A forthcoming Catalan-language play by Jordi Casanovas (pictured above) takes on the charismatic, disgraced Catalan ex-premier Jordi Pujol, the former president of the regional ‘Generalitat’ government (1989 to 2003), who, in 2014, admitted to holding undeclared millions in secret foreign bank accounts for a period of 34 years. While he claimed the cash to be an inheritance, the 85-year-old Pujol and… Read more »
Click here for Andy Beckett’s excellent book review of Paul Mason’s Why It’s Kicking Off Everywhere. “The failings of the free market may have given the protesters their cause … but the free market has also given them the means to take political advantage.” Click here for Tom Lamont’s interview with Alan Moore, the creator… Read more »
Strict austerity measures having had the opposite effect, El Corte Ingles and Transports Metropolitans de Barcelona further contribute to the recession.
last week on DRAMATIC EXIT … In the sneak out we explored what to do when enough is enough and even a “goodbye” seems superfluous. In the scatter we covered how a public exit, executed with panache, can rattle up sad and sedentary members of society, and shine an interrogatory light on the more ridiculous… Read more »
In the second of three imperative posts, I introduce a means of getting the hell out of there with the maximum fuss possible. This – very public – withdrawal comes into play when one wishes to fritter up one’s dispassionate, glum and/or anti-social companions on a bus or a subway journey: the type of folk with… Read more »
There is nothing like a dramatic exit to strike a line through the evening. It’s undignified, childish, and you may be excruciatingly embarrassed afterwards, but for once you’ll have something to write home about. Good cause is important, but so too is to know your own limits. Though the culprit may merely have ‘tipped the… Read more »
Last night, at around 9pm, I received a terrible phone call from a Mr Rodrigo Rojas. “I’m calling from Telefonica. We’ve knocked at your door many, many times, but for some reason, you are never in.” “I work,” I confessed, “Is there a problem?” “Are you Ms … of C/ … ?” “I am. ” “And… Read more »
A Boxing Day stroll along Diagonal was intercepted by a violent incident with a madman. “Puta!” yelled the hefty, pee-soaked man, who had already attracted my attention by spitting at me. “Why do you say that?” I replied. I realised my mistake immediately. “Puta!” he raged “Zorra!” He tossed aside his black bag and lunged at me. On your own, love. I… Read more »
A moist, sickly-sweet lump of sugar (1kilo), smashed almonds (1kilo) and 12 semi-solidified egg yolks, the lightly browned Túrron de Yema must be the quintessentially backhanded Christmas gift; the booby prize of the seasonal raffle. One might go so far as to suspect that the same single bar has been circulating the peninsula since Wilfred… Read more »
