Nasdas_off

Nasdas — the Perpignan phenomenon — is France's most controversial influencer: the Snapchat king whose Team Nasdas empire turned live-streamed chaos into a cultural force.

The empire was built on Snapchat. Nasser Sari, born June 3, 1996, in Perpignan's Saint-Jacques quarter, launched his account under the name Nasdas in 2018 and did something nobody else was doing: he filmed his neighborhood without a filter. "Team Nasdas" — a rotating cast of local characters, friends, and fixtures of the quarter — broadcast their lives in near-real time: giveaways, arguments, reconciliations, cash handed out on camera, everyday dramas turned into appointment viewing. A 2019 viral video gave him his first real explosion, and by the early 2020s he was arguably the most-watched French-language creator on the platform — the "Robin des bois" (Robin Hood) of Snapchat, as the French press dubbed him.

The formula was redistribution as spectacle. Nasdas handed out money, organized charity operations, and positioned himself as the voice of the quartiers populaires — the working-class neighborhoods mainstream France prefers not to look at. After the 2020 election of a National Rally mayor, Louis Aliot, in Perpignan, Nasdas became a vocal opponent of the municipality, calling out its policies in the neighborhoods on camera. Some residents started calling him "le maire" — the mayor — half joke, half indictment. Political parties reportedly courted him; he kept his intentions blurry while making clear he wanted to weigh in on public debate.

The money talk made headlines. In April 2024 he claimed to earn between $7,000 and $41,000 a day from Snapchat; at his June 2025 hearing before the National Assembly, he put his monthly revenue at "hundreds of thousands of euros." Whatever the exact figure, the economics of the operation were undeniable: filming the neighborhood had made a neighborhood kid a millionaire, and he said it out loud — on camera, in parliament, everywhere.

The controversies stacked up in parallel. Critics accused him of "poverty porn" — exploiting the quarter's misery for buzz — and questioned how much of the redistributed money actually reached people. He was slammed for once sharing his bank card number publicly, triggering waves of fraudulent charges. Videos of minors in difficult situations on his account drew formal reports. The June 2024 "Laymoon" operation — a giveaway-style event — blew up into a full scandal when rapper Booba denounced it as a banking scam. He starred in the film Les Déguns 2 (2023), sat for Konbini's "24h avec Nasdas," and became a fixture of French media debate about influence itself.

2024 turned personal. His son Aylan was born in May, from his relationship with Morgane; by September the couple had separated. In June he filed a complaint in Perpignan after an alleged €30,000 extortion attempt. In April 2025 the Perpignan prosecutor's office opened an investigation into attacks by his dogs in Villelongue-de-la-Salanque. Through it all, the cameras kept rolling — the chaos was the content, and the content was the chaos.

The parliament hearing was the turning point. On June 10, 2025, Nasdas appeared before the National Assembly's commission of inquiry into TikTok's psychological effects on minors, chaired by deputy Arthur Delaporte with Laure Miller as rapporteur — one of five influencers summoned. He answered questions about his earnings, his feuds, his Snapchat videos, his responsibility to young viewers, live and unfiltered: "la chienneté," as his community calls it. When asked about his revenue, he volleyed back at the deputies — "Et vous?" It was peak Nasdas: the kid from Saint-Jacques, in the house of the Republic, refusing to play the repentant influencer.

Weeks later, he walked away. In June 2025 Nasdas announced his withdrawal from social media to focus on his family — a stunning exit for France's Snapchat king, and maybe the most Nasdas move of all: the man who filmed everything, choosing finally not to film.

The cultural footprint goes beyond the scandals. Nasdas proved that French influence didn't need Paris, production budgets, or polish — just a phone, a neighborhood, and the nerve to show it all. The fan-clip ecosystem around him turned his every stream into a thousand TikToks, making him one of the most remixed figures in French social media. Love him or loathe him, the template he built — raw, local, relentless — reshaped what influence looks like in France.

He also leaves behind a question French media still hasn't answered: what do you do with influence that big when it was never supposed to exist? Nasdas wasn't cast, wasn't signed, wasn't focus-grouped. He pointed a phone at Saint-Jacques and millions watched. The Assembly heard him, the press covered him, the quarter called him mayor — and then he put the phone down.

Why people watch: it's reality television with no producers. France's influencer scene gets its most raw, most argued-about figure here — chaos with a conscience, or chaos for the cameras, depending on who you ask.

Previously covers Nasdas because nobody turned a phone camera into a louder megaphone. La chienneté — whether you love it or not, you know it.