Let's be frank, lobster rolls are sexy sandwiches. Maybe, the sexiest sandwich that exists, conjuring up images of New England summers, secluded beaches, the pervasive smell of suntan oil. Firm, delicate meat, creamy sauce, the crunch of an ever so slightly toasted bun. In New England, with lobster available pretty much everywhere for cheap, it's part of the local culture and collective memory, yet still has cachet.
Flash to Paris where a new Lobster Bar has been opened by a former Swiss screenwriter, pining for an imagined Maine, seaside childhood that never happened, replacing the local Maine product for Breton bleu, with a side of fries and salad for 26€ (!). Turns out it's just another luxe Frenchification of American comfort food.
The Figaroscope says "10cm of limp, panini grilled sandwich at 26€, find the error", and calls them "cette arnaque", which in French is a nasty word for swindle or theft.