Over the years of observation and consideration, certain conclusions become rather inescapable. One of these is that the Spanish establishment is not altogether serious about preventing the exploitation of [mostly] foreign women. Down on the main street in my township of Poio, next to a bar called Anfield, there’s a ‘club’ with the unambiguous name of Factory Girls. Just in case you’re remarkably stupid, there’s a large and helpful picture of what you can expect to find inside. Over the years, en route to its current name, this has been called The Playboy Club and then Xanadu. These cosmetic changes have, I suspect, been impelled by occasional police raids and court cases. Notwithstanding these, I rather doubt that Factory Girls, any more than the Xanadu in its time, is operating under new management.

Another ineluctable conclusion is that it can take some time here for the national/regional authorities to deal with corruption that is an open secret in the community, if not the entire country. Down on the south coast the current - almost unimaginable - case of the prosecution of the entire Marbella council has come only after decades of blatant malfeasance by the mayor, Jesús Gil, and his numerous henchmen. And now, this week, we have the arrest of 16 civil servants in the Madrid town hall who have, it’s said, been openly taking licence bribes of up to 20,000 euros for years. So why these delays? Priorities? Ranking on a To-Do list? The need for someone to retire before action can be taken? Bad luck? . . . Theories welcome.

More mundanely . . . A sharp contrast in local service levels yesterday. Following another man-in-the-garden incident last night, a neighbour called the Guardia Civil. Within minutes, there were at least 2 cars and 6 men in the street. Against that, earlier in the evening, I’d been called by a shop asking me if I still wanted a quotation for the repair of some hi-fi equipment I’d left with them in June 2006. A mere 17 months ago. But they did have the decency to apologise. By the way, such a rapid and plentiful police response is, I suspect, the stuff of dreams in the UK these days. Pretty impressive. And all remarkably friendly and un-officious. Though, now that I think of it, they did rather laugh at my suggestion that a dropped cigarette might have useful prints on it.

Driving through Portugal last week, I couldn’t avoid the observation there was a certain shoddiness about the towns I passed through. Crossing the border between Bragança and Zamora, the difference in the road quality on the two sides was so great I even entertained the suspicion the Spanish were taking the piss out of their neighbours. As I drove on via excellent roads and motorways, I asked myself why Spain was clearly getting so much more EU money than poorer Portugal. Perhaps, I concluded, the answer lies in the principle of ‘matching’ operated by Brussels. In other words, they will only give you a grant equal to the amount you’re prepared to invest yourselves. So, if you can’t afford the latter, you don’t get the subvention. Or the improved road. Any better theories? Or facts, even?

Finally, and of my own free will, I’d like to highlight the new link from this blog to Notes from Madrid. Which is excellent. Especially the stuff from the fruit of my loins, Faye Davies.