Welcome to Declassified, a weekly humor column.

The cold steel door of Nicolas Sarkozy’s cell swung shut on Tuesday as the former French president and legal trouble enthusiast began his prison sentence. He’s the first former French head of state to end up behind bars — a fate almost worse than being named prime minister — since Nazi collaborator Philippe Pétain.

Sarkozy told Le Figaro that he would be taking with him a copy of Alexandre Dumas’ “The Count of Monte Cristo” — which tells the story of a man who escapes prison after being falsely accused of treason and locked up without trial — along with a biography of Jesus Christ (no spoilers about the end of that one, please).

But Sarkozy hasn’t just been reading while inside. He has also been working on his prison diary, and has shared an extract with Declassified (in exchange for a packet of cigarettes, the ultimate French prison currency).

Prison de la Santé, Paris. October 2025

As if we needed any more proof that France is a far greater country than the United States, French prisoners do not have to wear a uniform, and especially not a bright orange jumpsuit (Carla would never visit me if I had to commit such a fashion faux pas).

But that is some rare good news from this hellhole (at least the prison is in the 14th arrondissement, which is kind of acceptable). I am staying in the laughably titled VIP wing of the jail, which means I get my own room with a television, although it is not high-definition and I cannot fully enjoy my favorite TV show, “L’amour est dans le pré.”

My biggest fear is that, because of prison overcrowding, I’ll one day be forced to share my cell with the people who robbed the Louvre.

A few things give me comfort in these difficult times. One is the famous names that have been in this place over the years, including Carlos the Jackal. In my new role as a hardened — albeit innocent, very innocent — prisoner, maybe I should have a nickname too. I used to be called President Bling-Bling, which I quite liked, and Le Top Cop, but that might not go down too well with my fellow inmates.

Speaking of whom, many of these prisoners are downright rude. They have been singing “Oh Sarko, la ch*tte à ta mère, réveille-toi!” at the top of their voices in order to keep me awake at night. For my English readers and admirers, that sentence is an extremely defamatory statement about my mother and I have instructed my lawyers to take action.

Another famous inmate in this place was Michel Vaujour, who escaped by helicopter after threatening guards with a fake pistol and nectarines painted as grenades. His wife took helicopter lessons so she could be the getaway pilot. Carla says she is too busy to take such lessons but I have strong hopes for my son Louis, who is already a high flyer (that is a little joke). It was darling Louis who urged my fans to come out and show their support as I was headed to jail — and as many as 100 did so. That’s how beloved I am.

Vaujour also once escaped from another prison by making an impression of a key in the rind of a Babybel, but I would never stoop so low … as to eat a Babybel (I prefer Époisses de Bourgogne).

Nicolas, aged 70

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“And in his search for food, Pavel the Polar Bear decided to leave Russia’s sphere of influence, so I sent a fleet of drones and had him killed. The end.”

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“No, you don’t know how to play rock, paper, scissors.”

by Stephen Robinson