Hoylake and West Kirby on the coast of the UK’s Wirral peninsula are both very genteel places, with tea rooms to prove it. Essentially, Hoylake is where you go to die respectably - like Brighton, perhaps - and West Kirby is where you go to buy a small mansion to demonstrate how much money you’ve made. Strange to relate, Hoylake is home to the Royal Liverpool Golf Club, where Tiger Woods played in a British Open Championship not so long ago. I had a round of golf myself in Hoylake today, though not at the Royal Liverpool. I played at the municipal course across the road - where the great man goes to practice - with one of my oldest friends, Mike, from downmarket Wallasey along the coast, where we grew up together a few years back. All this is by way of an intro to a joke told at my Friday dinner with Spanish friends last week and which I related to Mike as we spoilt a good walk by trying to hit a tiny ball with a thin stick. As I said to him, it’s a classic of the Spanish genre. And here it is:-

A Frenchman, an American and a Spaniard are drinking in a bar in London. The Frenchman insists his bar in Paris is superior as, after two drinks, you’re given a third one free. The American counters with the claim that in his home bar you get a free drink for every one you buy. The Spaniard - a Basque called Patxi - laughs at these claims and tells them that in his bar in Bilbao you can drink free all night and then go upstairs and have free sex. Amazed, the others ask him when he last availed himself of these bounties. “No, not me.” he says. “My sister”.

So, why is this a classic? Because it hits several buttons all at once:-
1. It’s about sex
2. The sex is illicit
3. It’s set in a brothel
4. It centres on the stupidity of someone from another region of Spain
5. It makes reference to vainglorious Basque boastfulness, and
6. Women don’t come out of it at all well.
But it does lack one standard element - no one has ‘the horns’ put on them. No one is cuckolded or cheated on.

What this says, if anything, about Spanish culture I leave to you. But one other significant way in which it differs from many of the jokes of this genre is that it's quite funny. Though you may choose to differ. Especially if you’re a woman. And who could blame you? Funny thing, humour.

I mentioned yesterday that Spain’s GDP may soon be boosted by the numbers relevant to the huge prostitution, drug-trafficking and smuggling sectors of the economy. What I overlooked was that, once this happens, Spain will not only be less entitled to hand-outs from Brussels but will also be expected to contribute more to the central coffers. Which is why, it seems, Holland has been resisting for years the inclusion of prostitution revenue in its data. With some justification, the Dutch feel they pay enough already. The Spanish, of course, pay bugger-all but receive a lot. So, I guess we can expect them to now ally themselves with the hard-hit Dutch. Strange times, strange bed-fellows. Catholic Spain and Protestant Holland, each claiming there's no prostitution of any significance within its borders, despite the evidence of one's own eyes. And ears.

Here in the UK, there is currently a media feeding frenzy over the huge expense claims of Members of Parliament. Stoked by the tabloidisation of even the quality press, the situation reeks of British hypocrisy and prurience. And the vast quantities of froth are obscuring the basic truths that 1. The expenses scheme was a back-door way of giving the MPs a huge salary increase when this couldn’t be done publicly, and 2. There are now far more MPs than can be justified when much, if not most, of the country’s legislation comes from Brussels. There’s understandable panic among the political classes here that a lot more dirty washing is to be hung on the line. And they must be right. But this is clearly blinding them to the real threat facing them, viz. that their numbers will surely now be reduced to a far smaller total of professional MPs who are so well paid they don’t need to max out on their expenses. Not that many Labour MPs will worry too much about this as there will be many fewer of these after next year’s general elections come what may. Meanwhile, click here for a brilliant commentary on all this nonsense.

And click here for an even more stupendous piece on contemporary British society, which will surely leave you weeping if you are around my age. Or even if you just have the ability to look ahead a few years.

After the bathos, the pathos. Boom, boom.

Positive as I try to be, it’s getting increasingly hard to avoid mention of Spain’s rapidly deteriorating economy. ABC’s headline this morning screams that the housing market is drowning and that as many as 2.2 million jobs are at risk. The dread R word [recession] has even made its first appearance. Which probably explains why it was bloody mushrooms for tapas again today. And which, when I pulled a face, were replaced by a plate of unappetising cheese, instead of the jamon I usually get. This can’t go on. Let’s get this recession over and done with.

Talking of property – ABC also reports today that the agency set up to help young people rent flats by the woman who subsequently became Minister for the Armed Forces has turned into a fiasco. Let’s hope she has more luck in her new position. Otherwise we can forget Perejil island.

And still talking about the press – The head barman brought me the Correo Gallego today and asked me to explain a joke he was having difficulty finding funny. A man was searching for English lessons but everything was too expensive. Eventually he heard of a place charging only one euro an hour. So he called it and asked if this was true. To which the answer was [In English] – If, if. Between, between. After some reflection, I said I thought it was a play on the Spanish words Sí/Si [Yes/If] and entre [Come in/Between]. So? he asked, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Yes, not at all funny’, I replied. But I will have to leave it to experts to advise whether this is Spanish or Galician humour. Or just not humour at all. As we know it, Jim.

Recent correspondence with readers has thrown up the word hypocrisy, something which the British are said to be renowned for. Coincidentally, I’ve heard two BBC programs recently about a book by David Runciman in which he distinguishes between good and bad hypocrisy and says all societies need a modicum of the former. He says that George Orwell made a similar distinction between the good sort of hypocrisy which stopped Britain becoming a dictatorship in the 1930s and the bad sort surrounding the British Empire. The Spanish, of course, share the Continental view that the British – and not just the News of the World - are hypocrites but, for me, there’s little more hypocritical than a Spanish male who claims he’s relaxed about female sexuality but really regards all women as either whores or Madonnas, visits the former on Friday, confesses this on Saturday and then makes his weekly visit to his mother, the main Madonna, on Sunday. With his wife and kids, of course.

But talking of Britain, here’s a thought-provoking article which asks why the country has become ‘a more vicious place; fearful, suspicious and angry’. Where ‘adults are afraid of children and children afraid of nothing’.

Finally – Someone has plastered all over my letter box – and the nearby lamppost and rubbish contenadores – little green [of course] stickers advertising a dead pet pick-up service. It was hell of a job to get rid of these before Ryan could see them. I know he’s already suspicious of my plans to replace him with a Spanish galgo when he’s gone. And if there’s one thing you don’t want around your house it’s an angry border collie with a bad wind problem. Believe me. I’m an ex-lawyer.

Galicians are famed in Spain for their ‘closeness’ and their tendency to be obscure. Hence this serpentine comment from the ex Franco minister/ex Xunta president, 85 year-old Manuel Fraga, about the would-be PP leader Esperanza Aguirre – “She should just shut up”. One wonders what he can mean.

Official forecasts for Spain’s economic growth this year now range from a high of 2.5% to a low of 1.8%. The Finance Minister here has just reduced his from 3.1% but I’ll leave you to guess which of these it is.

Toying with the thought of which person or act would best represent today’s popular culture in the UK, I came up with the ubiquitous and repulsive Piers Morgan. Thinking about Galicia, I alighted on the [allegedly] comic duo known as Los Tonechos. When it comes to Spain, I’m even less in the picture than I am with Galicia. So I’m really at a loss for anyone other than Chikilicuatre. Suggestions welcome.

Talking of British culture, I happened across this acronym this week – Tufty. Too ugly for television. That’s why you see bloody Piers Morgan all over your screen instead of, say, me.

I also heard this week of an epidemic of laughter somewhere in Africa in the 1960s. The Journal of Humor Research [yes, it really exists] confirms that this broke out in Tanganyika. Though its extent and duration have been exaggerated a little by those desperate for a laugh.

Which reminds me – A group of Islamic teologists and scientists has suggested that Mecca is a more logical site for the zero meridian long accorded to Greenwich. First an alternative calendar and now an alternative clock. I would have thought Islam already had enough to differentiate itself from the rest of the heathen world.

The Voz de Galicia this morning labels Manchester United’s performance against Barcelona last night ‘cowardly’. Boring, too, in my opinion. Allowing me to be distracted into various theories for the little beer mug icon which kept switching from one corner of the screen to the other. Possibly some form of subliminal advertising of the sponsor’s product. Anyone know?

For Spanish speakers, here’s a fine little performance by María Álvarez which is said to be one of the most viewed items on YouTube.

Galicia Facts

In the interests of balance, I should report that the sun came out yesterday midday and is still with us today. Thank God. I can now reduce the height of the grass in my garden from its current 30cm.

I should also report that the lovely wife of no-longer-nice-and -still-noisy Tony, Amparo, has immediately complied with my plea that she doesn’t put her high heels on when she gets up to go doctoring at 7 in the morning. So she didn’t wake me up – earplugs notwithstanding – early today. But my accursed brain did.

In contrast, I was not happy with the lady in my regular café-bar yesterday who had all 5 newspapers piled up in front of her so she could go through them one by one. But I’ve learned to be Spanish about these things. So took the one I wanted and embarrassed her into putting three aside. Some days are diamonds.

I occasionally write about prostitution, something which it’s hard to avoid being aware of in modern Spain. Just in case there’s any doubt, I don’t share the attitude of those of my Spanish friends who think it’s an integral part of a ‘fun’ life. And this is an article with a viewpoint I share.

Is Mr Zapatero a president or a prime minister? I ask because he’s regularly referred to as both of these, though not at the same time.

Crime News: The policemen arrested down on the Costa del Sol have been accused of various offences – stretching back over years – including those of stealing confiscated property and extorting bribes from criminals. It must be like Chicago in the 1920s down there. At a national level, there’s concern about yet more domestic murders. However, as someone has pointed out, one reason these have such a high profile is that murder generally is nowhere near as common in Spain as it is in other countries.

If you really want to, you can see Spain’s controversial Eurovision entry here. You have to scroll down the page to get to it. At least this latest version seems to centre a little less on the female rear end than the original. As I say, it could very well win.

I’ve just heard the French word ballet pronounced balette on Spain’s classical music station. Fair enough; most foreign words are Hispanicised here. John Wayne, for example, is Juan By-nay. But then I checked the Spanish spelling and found it to be ballet, in which case it should be pronounced bayette. Or, if you’re a really old Castilian, balyette. It all brought to mind the variable pronunciation of another French word chalet. This means not much more than a shack in British English but refers to a semi-detached [duplex] or terraced house [condo] here. It’s pronounced both cha-lay and chalette but is also written both chalé and chalet. Which seems a little more consistent. I won’t bore you with ticket.

Galicia Facts

In various of the regular Our Community v. Your Community reports we get in our local press, I’ve read these facts this week about our region:-
1. It’s the 5^th autonomous community when it comes to exports.
2. It’s seen the highest increase in productivity in the last 20 years.
3. It rates worst for the state of health of its inhabitants, thanks to smoking and obesity.

My comments:-
1. I thought the main exports might be fish and wine but they turn out to be cars, ‘fashion’ and boats.
2. The increase in productivity may be an artefact born of a declining population. I read in a national paper yesterday that Galicia’s competitiveness had reduced over the years.
3. Smoking and obesity tend not to go together with at least Pontevedra’s young, stick-thin women.

Good news. Ponters is going international. Again. We have a new Indian restaurant down in Vegetables Square, which I shall be trying tonight. En passant, there’s a vegetarian restaurant in this square too. But, in a struggle to survive, it’s added meat dishes to its menu. Very pragmatically Spanish.

Finally, for those who are kind enough to tune in regularly - Just in case you missed it, yesterday’s post was rather late in the day. And . . . If you could all just get 20 or 30 friends – or even 10 – to read this blog today, I will be able to leave for the UK tomorrow on the back of 100,000 hits. Go on. You can do it . . . See, I haven’t written anything about the bloody printer.

With the election well behind us, the government has admitted it might have been just a tad optimistic about the inflation rate. Which has just hit 4.4%

In the UK, life continues to converge in the direction of that of Spain. A staggering 53% of British men aged 25 are now said to be still living with their parents as . . . they know that Mum will wash their clothes and lend them the taxi fare for a night out, while she fills out their job application forms.

Talking of Spanish families . . . An ex deputy mayor of Palma, Majorca has been accused of spending €50,000 on prostitutes. As if this weren’t bad enough, the money came from the public purse and the whores were male, even though he is [was?] a married man with three daughters. But the affair did provide us with one of those lovely Spanish quotes – this time from his boss, the mayoress. Defending herself against the charge of dereliction of duty, she retorted “I wasn’t his mother!”.

I was going to add a paragraph about how many/few hours €50,000 would have got him - if he'd been otherwise inclined - with Ashley Alexandre Dupre, of New York, and then compare this with how many hours he might have got - in another world - with Mesdames Aguirre and Fernandez de la Vega. But, in the end, I decided this would be in bad taste.

The latest cosmetic surgery development is reported to be something called el implante en el plano subfascial. Apparently this is situated en medio del pectoral, which a Spanish friend tells me translates as ‘Just above the tits’. But I’m a little sceptical about this. And I still have no idea what it is.

Quotes of the Day

Up betimes, this being the first morning of my promise upon a forfeit not to lie in bed a quarter of an hour after my first waking.
Samuel Pepys in his diary, 13 March 1664

This day my wife begun to wear light-coloured locks, quite white almost, which, though it makes her look very pretty, yet not being natural, vexes me, that I will not have her wear them.
Ibid.

The Spanish have a talent for mockery and satire. Not to mention farce. Click here for a good take on the nightmare of dealing with the bureaucracy here. Even if you don’t understand Spanish, there’s an English transcript.

As my Catholic upbringing tells me we must be close to Passion Week, it’s fitting I should write that the favourite phrase of the Spanish to describe such bureaucratic challenges is un calvario. But, really, this is just a cheap and easy way to move to my update on the printer saga. Which is that Epson Spain has pulled the same trick as Carrefour and said that I had a limited time in which to be able to swap the rubbish I was sold for a new machine. However, they did say this was 30 days, against Carrefour’s mere 15. I've told them this is not the law and that, anyway, I started the dialogue with Epson UK within 30 days. From the HQ of Carrefour in France, so far nothing. The battle continues.

Quote: The fact that Kosovo's fight for independence from Serbia was born in violence is a cause for unease, particularly in countries with separatist problems, such as Spain. Well, yes. And never more so than right now, after ETA’s ending of its latest ‘permanent ceasefire’. On this, the leader of the opposition here has continued his progress towards the statesmanship required by stressing now is not the time for reproaches. Nor for questioning the President’s credibility. A bi-partisan approach looks closer than many feared even a few days ago. The first challenge appears to be agreement on how to handle the latest ETA version of Sinn Fein [the ANV], which won quite a few seats in the recent municipal elections.

It’s getting close to round-up time for the wild horses of the Galician mountains. Sadly, the first signs are emerging of birth deformities associated with last August’s awful fires. These defects are attributed to the inhalation of smoke and the eating of ashes. Let’s hope the various measure being taken to prevent a repetition this year prove successful, whatever the causes. Which are much disputed here.

On Sunday, Pontevedra FC played a crucial match against Cordoba FC to decide who would continue in the play-offs for promotion into the big time. By midday, the visiting fans had taken over the centre of the old quarter and we soon found ourselves sitting next to the nosiest group to make the trip. With their nearest competitors on our other side. But, as ever in Spain, it was all good-natured fun and we were amused to see the Cordoban banners featured the legend Nunca caminarás solo [You’ll never walk alone]. Naturally, we felt obliged to point out this had been lifted from Liverpool. But, as we’re all Everton supporters, the truth is we couldn’t have cared less.

Threading my way though the throng, I was reminded that, in Spain, one never senses the fear associated with negotiating crowds of young men in the UK. Simply put, boozing rarely leads to aggression here, merely to even more of the give-and-take for which Spain is renowned. By the way, Pontevedra didn’t go through, having thrown away a two-goal lead. And despite seeing four of the Cordoba team sent off. But I’ve read no reports of the sort of post-match, vengeful violence which would be virtually inevitable in the UK.

Topical Spanish humour: A cartoon by El Roto in yesterday’s El Pais showed a young woman saying wistfully, “I was thinking of having kids but, when I started to pay my mortgage, my periods stopped”.

Oh dear. What am I to do now? Following my reference to gallo and Cuntis, I received the following [computer-generated?] message:- “I'd like to know more about the word Gallo. Anything new will be added to our website; www.galloworldfamily.org. We are always on the search for facts, legends and lore, of the Gallo word. In my case, surname”. Well, I’m not so sure. For those of you who don’t speak Spanish, the longer version of the English equivalent is ‘cockerel’. Assuming this citation is picked up by a bot or spider, I wonder if this really will appear on the above web site.

Finally, a plug for Matthew Bennett and The Big Chorizo. Matthew is the only person to include my blog in his [sorry] Faves on Technorati’s revised, search-oriented web site. Thanks, Matt. Perhaps he's just the vanguard . . .

Today, a Spanish humour special. I’ve been given the following document on the subject of machismo in the Spanish language, something I’ve touched on in the past. I leave it to you to answer the question - Is this a genuine list of examples or is it piss-taking on the part of the very Spanish males who revel in it . . .

MACHISMO IN THE SPANISH LANGUAGE

The Association of Hispanic-American Women has complained that, according to them, Spanish is fundamentally machisto. Let’s have a look at a few examples:-

AMBITIOUS
Masculine form: With fixed aims. ‘Not backwards in coming forward’
Feminine form: Self-interested. ‘Bloodsucker’.

DARING
M: Bold. Courageous.
F: Rude. Badly brought up.

ADVENTURESOME
M: Bold. Original and risk-taking.
F: Easy. Frivolous.

CALLEJERO: A street map
CALLEREJA: A streetwalker. A whore

WHATEVER
M: Whomsoever. A so-and-so.
F: A whore

GOD: The creator of the universe whose divinity passed to his son through the male line
GODDESS: A mythological creation of obsolete, forgotten and superstitious cultures

HERO: An idol
HEROIN: A drug which kills

MAN OF THE WORLD: A man of great experience and broad view
WOMAN OF THE WORLD: A whore

PUBLIC MAN: A prominent person. A civil servant.
PUBLIC WOMAN: A low life. A whore.

HOMBREZUELO: A man of insignificance
MUJERZUELA: A whore

MACHISTO: A man who is macho and tough
MACHISTA: A dyke. A lesbian

HERITAGE: A combination of goods
MARRIAGE: A combination of evils

DOG
M: Man’s best friend
F: A whore

PUTO: A womaniser. A Binger.
PUTA: A whore

QUICK
M: Intelligent. Open-minded.
F: A whore

REGALADO: Past participle of the verb to ‘To give a present’
REGALADA: A whore

UNMARRIED
M: Popular. Intelligent. Able
F: Timid. Slow. ‘Prickly customer’.

FATHER IN LAW: Father of your spouse.
MOTHER IN LAW: Witch. Busybody.

BULL: An animal of class and breeding. Strong and noble.
COW: Fat and podgy. As ugly as a manatee.

FOX
M: Swordsman [Zorro]. Skilful. Audacious.
F: Yet another Whore.