The news has come through the Spanish media a short time ago that expresident Carles Puigdemont has now fled to Belgium to start a new life as a political refugee, together with five more ministers from his two-hour long Republic of Catalonia.
Now that life returns to normal after the Catalan Circus, I’d just like to say how relieved I am that I don’t have to hear that awful dirge Els Segadors on the Spanish television news every night. (I even prefer the heavy metal version…) Nor do I want to watch more excruciatingly embarrasing political propaganda from Omnium Cutural based on decades of ultra-right Ukrainian victimhood, and paid for out of MY taxes!
Blimey! And you thought that Trump was a big liar, didn’t you? They are all the same these populists, aren’t they? All emotion and no facts.
Well, Carles Puigdemont and friends, I hope this has cheered you up. And apart from chocolate there’s also surrealism and Hercule Poirot. But nothing else, so you’ll find Belgium unbearable. And damp.
So here’s a plan:
If you get fed up with Flemish and chocolate; and your new plan to make everyone in Belgium speak Catalan doesn’t work out (like most of your plans), I propose a way to get back to the sunny Mediterranean.
After 2019, if you haven’t died of the damp Belgian weather, you can go ask those naughty Brexit separatists in England if they’ll give you and your fellow oppressed separatist refugees a British passport. Then hop on a plane to Alicante and visit us in Benidorm!
Here in “Catalunya South” – the Costa Blanca – we have better beer than the Costa Brava and you will not find any of those awful butifarra and mongetes lunches. There are regular fights organised by the separatists (British) in Benidorm every Saturday night, so you can still enjoy a bloody time on the streets fighting the Policia Nacional.
But you must learn to sing this first! It’s de rigeur * among the English.
* And as you see, we speak some words of Catalan.
Equus Asinus 
This video is true propaganda. It is blatantly anti-chocolate, without admitting that you personally aren’t a chocolate fan. Neither does it mention how much the Donks actually love chocolate. Outrageous.
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Never mind that, Alys. If Morris, Aitana and Matilde had brayed wildly when I played Els Segadors the first time, the video would have gone viral. They found it so awful, they brayed loudly for me to stop the music and Matilde jumped on Rubí and bit her to help steady her teeth.
Second time, with video running, nothing. A squeak from Morris… Little beasts.
Anyway, it’s a Rubí Tuesday blog post tomorrow. At least I don’t live in expectation she will ever learn to bray.
🙂
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I think their total lack of interest in your propagandist video against chocolate works very effectively. Donks know irony. They deserve chocolate treats for their efforts.
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Oh while we are in silly joke territory, when I was speaking with the ex-Mayor of Finestrat last Friday night, I recalled a conversation we’d had last year when he said to me, “Gareth what is happening with the English: this Brexit is madness.”
Now I could turn the tables and say, “Ahah: we are not the idiotas of Europe now, are we Honorato? You have a Republic of Cataluña which is economically illiterate! A hundred times more tonto than Brexit!!!”
At which point he informed me some people referred to it as Catexit.
“In English we call that a cat flap,” I said.
This was a side-step in the banter which I then spent the next few minutes regretting, as I had to explain what a cat flap was, how it operated, and for what purpose; and I even digressed to explain my friend Carl has only this week installed an electronic one that responds to a microchip in the cat.
“So you don’t get the wrong cat in the house, you see.”
At which point, Señor Honorato Algado, ex-mayor, medical doctor, associate of the Prime Minister, and quite an important personage in the regional Partido Popular, made his excuses and left hurriedly in the direction of the fire exit.
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Oh dear… If only Carl could install a hologram flap for you, to appear in such moments…
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