THE idea of philosophy clubs is nothing new, and Merseyside has pub-based groups you can join to discuss the higher things in life while refuelling the inner man and woman.

But a French former journalist, Jean-Marie Gourio, has taken the notion much further and turned bar-room musings into a literary phenomenon.

This isn’t, however, about the esoteric theories of Hegel and Wittengenstein or simply a load of Kant.

By just watching and listening, the denizens of cafés, bars and bistros have become Gourio’s raw material, inspiration and office all in one.

Oh, and there’s the chance to have a drink or many while involved in this thirsty work, to lubricate the cerebral process and wash away any writer’s block.

Grourio is refreshingly unpretentious about his art: “My publisher thinks I’m studying human nature. But mainly I just go for a drink.”

However, he’s far from a slouch. Intrigued by the conversations he overheard while at his local in 1987, he wrote down first one and then other bons mots (as we say in Britain), which soon filled his notebook.

After having accumulated the first 15 of these original homespun observations, he suddenly realised he had hit upon the big idea for his life’s work.

That was more than 20 years ago, and he compiled them for a book, Breve de Comptoir (Bar Briefs), which proved highly popular.

Since then he has clocked up an impressive 15 volumes, with sales of 1.3m, of this true-to-life portrait of the French drinking classes, with this folksy wit and wisdom.

There’s a fair amount of grumbling, but I suppose, as in any society, chewing the fat with your fellows is a harmless way of letting off steam. Even Shakespeare noted that there was never yet the philosopher who could bear the toothache patiently.

It also proves that great Oscar Wilde aphorism that philosophy teaches us to bear with equanimity the misfortunes of others.

Gourio’s volumes include cultural insights such as: “A painting is only a thing you fix to the wall with a nail. Rembrandt’s nothing without a nail.”

Or the gloomily pragmatic: “With the TV, we don’t have time to talk, but that’s not a bad thing seeing that we don’t have much to say to each other.”

Then there’s the place of religion in modern life: “If Jesus returns, it’s going to be press conference after press conference.”

And the last word on genetic engineering: “After four children, you should have the right to give birth to something else.”

All this has made a fortune for Gourio, who has just published his 20th anniversary edition, which has soared into France’s best-seller charts.

While alcohol is a frequent topic of conversation, it isn’t associated with violence as it is in the UK.

Another contrast with Britain is that arguments are common in bars, but fights are rare, says Gourio.

In fact, foreigners and Britain, in particular, is viewed with distaste by his drinking companions.

As one said: “The Channel Tunnel? If it’s to go to England, no thanks.”

But other subjects are very familiar: marital stress, a suspicion of intellectuals, artists and modern technology.

These remarks are culled principally from the bars which cater for the French artisan class, such as plumbers, roofers and carpenters.

Bankers and lawyers are hopeless at providing anything like the same wit, perception or piquancy, says the author.

One sad aspect is that Gourio is likely to be recording a dying way of life, rather than merely holding a mirror up to it. There, bars numbered more than 500,000 in 1910, but have fallen to 50,000 today.

“They keep being turned into clothes boutiques or shops selling flat-screen televisions. I used to think this world would never disappear. Now I’m not so sure,” says Gourio.

On the other hand, it might convince us that, with this rich diversity of opinion laid out for us, Noel Coward was right about philosophy when he wrote: “I long ago came to the conclusion that nothing has ever been proved conclusively about anything.”

Still, let’s go forward with hope into 2008. Happy New Year, everybody.