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Sunday, 1 May 2011

WHO WERE YOU?

I've been a bit busy living and trying to make sense of this mental world we live in but I feel I understand it a bit better now. It started with Saint George who is known as Jorge here and on his day the done thing if you are under twenty is to ascend Saint George's hill which is next to Saint George's hospital, get pissed and be sectioned by eleven o'clock the same morning. Anyone with a sense of decorum descends on the nearest bar or restaurant which is why we started in Bar 27 and ended up in Casa Frauca last weekend. Spain has excellent restaurants and seeing as today is the first of May and tomorrow is my birthday we ended up this weekend in Lillas Pasta for the first time since we landed here. This restaurant lost its Michelin Star or award or whatever it is recently but that didn't put us off and we dined like kings and drank like tramps and still had time for a siesta.

On the subject of Kings, we bumped into the parents of a pupil last night in a new tapas bar. We were doing what everyone does here which is go on a tapas crawl and the parents were so excited to talk to us about the wedding. 'What wedding' was my mother's reply a few days ago when my aunt mentioned she was going to a party for the wedding and I must admit I had been a bit vague about the whole occasion but I was surprised when the parents said they had watched the whole shebang on Spanish tele. Being a bit of an idler I am too lazy to hang up the bunting and too inert to be against anything anymore. That comes from living here, and protesting about everything as a teenager. Henderson and I kept a watchful eye on the so called masses and for some reason we singled out Will Self the writer and social climber who through the medium of snide brought out the worst in us. We did the obvious and turned his surname upside down for the best part of the day. Others who got it in the neck were the so called Republicans who seem to think the poor masses who they are above, have been brain washed somehow when they, the observers of the hoi polloi have probably never attended any event outside London where deckchairs, flasks of tea, Union Jack memorabilia and ruddy cheeks abound. Well, if you don't like it you can always move to France.

Meanwhile, back at the Circus of Death we have the beatification of a pope which attracted even more of the easily led in a place with the highest crime rate and lowest age of consent. The Vatican has allowed Mugabe to come along for this knees up on account of him being Catholic and the Vatican not being in the European Union where he is sometimes banned.

Last but not least I have had my beady eye on David Cameron whose wife according to my now awake mother, 'wasn't even wearing a hat' when the happy couple got spliced. I saw him during the nuptials do a weird double take as he sang Jerusalem I think. It was quite a disturbing look as if he had seen a ghost and I could make it my mission to find out what or who it was that spooked him but can't be bothered. He also told an MP recently to 'calm down dear' which made me think he was a bit camp and the women he said it to had a lucky escape as she could have had a one legged Torrente type in an electronic wheelchair shout out 'hola guapa' as he sped by me the other morning.

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