Surprisingly, yes. JB is a genuine folk hero. He’s the underdog who turned cheese into a crown. He’s the absurd answer to a question no one asked. Polls show that 73% of Parisians support the new prince, mostly because he “makes the whole city look intentionally silly.” Even the puce lamp posts are growing on people.
There is, of course, a small opposition. A group called The Knights of the Correct Baguette protests every Tuesday, arguing that a prince should be selected by bloodline, not by lacto-fermentation speed. They wave signs that say, “Down with Camembert.” JB threw a ripe wedge at them last week. It hit their leader square in the forehead. Justice was served.
And let’s not forget the international reaction. King Charles III sent a very confused telegram that read, “Is this a fête or a prank?” The Vatican is “monitoring the situation” with a mixture of horror and amusement. Nobody knows what to do. So the world just shrugs and watches.
La première fastueuse réception de 2026 du roi Frederik X et de la
What’s Next for the Prince of Paris 2026?
JB has big plans for his one-year reign. He wants to rename the Arc de Triomphe the “Arc de Fromage” for the month of July. He’s also petitioning to make the accordion a mandatory soundtrack for all public transportation. Imagine: you’re late for work, stuck in the Metro, and a giant, grinning prince forces you to listen to “La Vie En Rose” on loop. It’s genius.
He’s also announced a new national sport: Quiche Twirling. Contestants must spin a full, hot quiche on a wooden spoon without dropping it. The winner gets a lifetime supply of eggs and a kiss on the cheek from JB himself. Sign-ups are already closed. The waiting list is 40,000 people long.
The most surprising fact? JB doesn’t even like cheese that much. He’s allergic to mold. He told Le Monde that he sculpts it only for the glory, wearing a hazmat suit and a look of pure, ridiculous determination. “I am a prince by accident,” he said, “but at least I’m a funny one.”
So, who is the Prince of Paris 2026? He’s a lactose-tolerant artist with a unicycle, a terrible taste in street colors, and a heart the size of a pumpkin pie. He’s the bizarre, glorious, and deeply French answer to a world that desperately needed a laugh. Long may he reign—or at least until the next Cheese Olympics.
