Spanish Shilling

How can there not be enough homes in Spain? Well, there aren't - at least in the places where people would like to live. The properties for sale (or for rent) have increased in price over the last year by a large amount. Ara says 'Spain, the fourth EU state where housing prices increased the most: more than double the average. Real estate prices in the Spanish state grew 12.9% in the last quarter of 2025 compared to the same period of 2024'. 

From a comment raised at Thoughts from Galicia here: ‘The real reason for Spain’s housing crisis is the massive increase in one-person households. In the country, where 50-60 years ago most people lived in large families crammed together under one roof, the housing market has undergone an enormous transformation in the last decades. That and, of course, speculation, immigration, foreigners buying properties all over’. 

As of 2024 (says Google AI), ‘…there are over 27 million total dwellings in Spain. The total housing stock surpassed this threshold for the first time, reflecting growth despite a noted deficit in new construction in high-demand areas. While the total housing stock is high, roughly 3.8 million homes are classified as empty’. Come to think of it, with the population of Spain at 49.5m people, there are more than enough homes if everyone… doubled up! Of course, everyone wants to live in or near the city, or near their employment, or where the bright lights are. Few of us prefer the lost and empty country which in Spain is so vast.

Perhaps working from home would help, or converting those empty downstairs spaces under the apartment blocks or allowing the availability of land for more prefabricated homes. Yes, everybody wants to live near to, or in the choicest parts of Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia, and By Golly, there is money to be made.

Another note from Google AI refers to ‘The legacy of 2008: It is estimated that following the 2008 crisis, nearly half a million housing developments were left partially completed or abandoned. Many of these structures remain visible today as concrete "skeletons" in various regions’. These buildings often belong to the ‘Sareb’ (wiki), ‘the bad bank’ (which in my limited experience has little or no interest in selling them).

From El País here: ‘A roof over one's head for speculators: how housing was perverted and inequality skyrocketed. El ladrillo (viz. ‘housing’), once the largest store of wealth on the planet, has become today the main driver of exclusion’. Or you own a house (or several, or many), or you don’t. “Forty-five percent of the population is suffering from the crisis, and more than four out of ten households cannot afford basic expenses. The economy is growing, but poverty is becoming entrenched, and housing is pushing more households into precarious situations,” says Oxfam Intermón. Recent Eurostat data and OECD-based studies place Spain among the countries with the highest rates of housing overburden; in other words, too many citizens spend more than 40% of their net income on rent…’

‘Spain’s Senate has rejected a proposal to build tens of thousands of new public homes in the islands, highlighting the political divide over how to tackle housing shortages in tourist hotspots. The Spanish Senate (under the control of the Partido Popular) has voted against a proposal to launch a large public housing programme of 74,000 affordable public homes in the Balearic Islands and the Canary Islands aimed at easing the housing crisis in both archipelagos…’ More at Spanish Property Insight here.

And then, from The Olive Press, there’s this: ‘Spain’s crippling housing crisis is not a market failure but a deliberate ‘political choice’ designed to protect the wealth of property owners, a leading sociologist has warned. Javier Gil, a top researcher at the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC), claims the country has entered a devastating new era of ‘rentier capitalism’ that is quietly fracturing society…’

And while we are distracted by the squatters, the bank foreclosures and the tenants in arrears (and the insistent propaganda from the alarm companies), the reality is that the laws are stricter than the news-stories suggest and the Ministry of the Interior (the Home Office) reckons there are only about 15,000 homes with illegal squatters, or as LaSexta has: 'Data that debunks alarmist theories about squatting: only 0.05% of homes are occupied'. 

First of all, there must be housing for everyone: not under a bridge or in a bidonville or a camper van or an abandoned shed, but in a reasonably decent home. Then we can concern ourselves with the profiteers. From Google AI here: ‘The right to housing is constitutionally recognized in Spain (Article 47) as a guiding principle, directing public authorities to ensure decent housing and combat speculation. While it is a recognized right, it is not an absolute fundamental right, meaning enforcement depends on public policies and the 2023 Housing Law’. More from Housing Rights Watch here: ‘The State of Housing Rights in Spain’.

News reaches me from Sweden that Per Svensson has died at the age of 92.

Per was responsible for me launching my weekly bulletin ‘Business over Tapas’ (so called because Spaniards like to seal their deals over a beer in the bar downstairs). His own weekly mailings were called ‘News from Spain’ and he passed on to me his subscription list when he retired in 2012.

Per was the leader of a Norwegian communist youth group and was charged with looking after the cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin on a good-will visit sometime after 1961. Per told me that the official schedule of speeches and photo opportunities was soon broken as Gagarin wanted to go drinking. He presented Per with a Soviet watch and twenty-five different ways of saying ‘Cheers’ in Russian.

We next hear of Per moving to Spain in 1966 where, he writes, ‘…I became a privileged witness to the great transition from a rotten dictatorship to a modern democracy…’. Per’s first business was in real estate, working out of Tenerife – where experience and tricks learned there set him in good knowledge for his main role, as founder of the Institute of Foreign Property Owners out of Altea in Alicante, a service started in 1982. In 1985 he published a book called ‘Your Home in Spain – before and after the purchase’ which was followed by another 15 editions in six languages. He warned against property-fraud, the time share industry, municipal corruption (we remember the scandal of thousands of homes without building licences sold to unwitting foreigners) and buying off-plan – receiving many threats from local politicians and speculators in the process.

This consumer agency would produce a regular magazine for its many thousands of subscribers with news about property in Spain – the joys and the pitfalls – and included a list of any foreign-sounding name that appeared in the Spanish provincial government bulletins (fines, alerts and so on).

Later Per and a few friends (including me) started Ciudadanos Europeos, a political agitation group pushing to get the vote for foreign residents in Spain. In 1995, we EU citizens were allowed by Felipe González to vote in European elections (whoopee!) but the Minister of the Presidencia, Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, managed to stop us from the town hall vote (he thought we would vote for the PP) until 1999.

With this going on, plus meetings in Alicante and Málaga and presentations in Madrid at the Complutense, The Valencian government gave Per an office to run his program, but then de-funded it the day after the local elections of 1999 when its use was no longer important.

I next met up with him on a project to open a retirement village for Norwegians from the city of Bergen, with the idea that elderly Northerners would rather move to Spain if the municipal heath service could somehow finance a retirement home for senior citizens (it would be cheaper than one in Scandinavia – and certainly more enjoyable for the residents). The project eventually fell through.

Per spent his later years between Bulgaria (‘it’s marvellous here, and much cheaper than Spain’, he told me) and Hamburg, before finally returning north to a Swedish nursing home where he died earlier this month.

He leaves behind his wife Heidemarie, two sons and a daughter, and our fond memories.

Madrid, like Barcelona and Valencia, has adopted la gentrificacíon, urban renovation where the rents go up, the old joints are closed down or turned into vanity or impulse stores in a system known to Spanish economists as Premium Mediocre – that’s to say, cheaply expensive.

It sounds swell, looks good and costs a little more, whether it’s a Starbucks outlet, bubble coffee, choosing Uber over a taxi, a bottle of designer water, food that photographs better than it tastes, dragon fruit, stores with boiled pick and mix sweets sold by weight or Pistachio chocolate from Dubai… and of course voting Partido Popular (a few years back, it would have been supporting Ciudadanos, eating mangoes and putting watercress in sandwiches).  

My little romantic village of Mojácar has chosen a similar route, with the beach-bars now demolished and re-built in brick, bicycle lanes along the side of the beach-road, children's playgrounds (also invariably located on the beach), and an artful number of parades, fiestas and celebrations to attract the visitors. We have transformed in a short time from bohemian to bourgeois.

I was criticised by a British woman today while attempting to find a parking spot on the playa, because my car was covered in dust. 'Lady', I said, 'I live in a gravel pit'.

If this all means that the rents have gone up, well that's the point! 

Down past the Castellana, on the bit called Paseo de Recoletos, opposite the Biblioteca Nacional de España, is a famous old watering hole called the Café Gijón, founded in 1888. It’s probably Madrid’s most famous joint, along with the Bar Chicote (perennially popular since 1931 for its cocktails), Viva Madrid (where the hep out-of-towners would meet), the good old Cervecería Alemana (there used to be a sign there: ‘We don’t serve hippies. They don’t like us, and we don’t like them’), and there’s the Café Central (for the best live jazz since 1982). 

I used to enjoy the Café Gijón. It was olde-worlde and had mirrors everywhere, a house bootblack, free newspapers in a wooden frame, elderly waiters in white jackets, and an inevitable clutch of poets or philosophers arguing happily between each other while seated around one of the tables (it didn’t run to a bar). Spain used to do these things so well.

I had a French girlfriend back in 1980 when I was living in Madrid. Walking into the Gijón one day, I saw her sitting by herself at a table next to a window and enjoying a coffee. I ambled over and sat down – Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? I asked (those ten years of French at school stood me well with Huguette).

‘Who the hell are you’, she answered – and as it happened she had a point, since it turned out to be somebody entirely different.

Does that ever happen to you?

There’s a scene in La Colmena (a book about the penniless intellectuals in post-war Franco’s times) where a poet drops something on the floor. When he looks up from below – he finds that his marble-topped table is in fact a reversed tombstone mounted on the ornate metal legs of the slab with the inscription of some departed Spaniard inscribed thereon.

All the tables, he discovers looking around, are the same.

Do you remember those old off-white tables, before the Mahou plastic ones came along?

The years pass. Now the Museo Chicote, with its Guinness Book collection of bottles, has a disc-jockey. The Viva Madrid (1856) still sounds good – although it has turned into a cocktail bar, the Cervecería Alemana (1904) the best for ice-cold beers (rich hippies welcome), now only with table service and the Café Central (where you could see jazz greats like Pedro Iturralde and Jorge Pardo), well, the owner just put the rent up, so the jazz bar closes on April 15th to move to El Ateneo de Madrid, just a few minutes away.

As for the Café Gijón, the very best of them all (where I would meet my father when he was in town), the place was closed last year but has now reopened as a more professional operation.

Let’s see what they say: OKDiario gushes with ‘The historic Café Gijón, located on the Paseo de Recoletos, is embarking on a new chapter after its acquisition by the Majorcan Cappuccino Group, a deal that has generated considerable excitement in the city. After months of closure and renovations, the establishment is reopening with a promise to respect its legacy, but also with a necessary update to adapt to modern times…’

Here’s El Mundo: ‘Madrid's Café Gijón reopens, 'asking' for tips in the US style and targeting international luxury tourists’. It says that ‘…The lively conversations that used to fill the afternoons have given way to an offering geared towards high-spending tourists, in which traditional dishes have been replaced by an international menu’.

The bill, when you ask for it, comes with ‘a suggested gratuity’ of 10 or 15% on top.

Now, here in Spain – until yesterday at least – we don’t tip. The staff’s emolument is included in the bill. Half the time, if you do leave the change (a few coins, not more), the boss gets to keep it anyway.

The co-official languages of Spain are a mess.

Firstly – euskara is spoken by nobody outside the three Basque provinces plus  neighbouring Navarra (the Basques think that Pamplona should be their capital, but are stuck with Vitoria, or Vitoria-Gasteiz to be pedantic, which is at least in the right geographical location). All Basques will (and for practical reasons must) speak Spanish. You might get a word or two in Euskara to make the point, but, if nobody understands…

Then there’s galego, a mix of Portuguese and Spanish. There’s aragonés – or fabla – as well (it’s close to extinction apparently). Over to the East, the Catalans like to speak catalán (unless they live in Valencia, where it’s called valenciano). In Valencia, normally Partido Popular territory, they prefer to speak Spanish anyway, and they would no doubt prefer it if I said ‘castellano’.  Indeed, castellano is more like the King’s English; it’s best spoken in Valladolid, while worst savaged in Cádiz.

Catalán has so much baggage, what with that Independence thing, that Miriam Nogueras, the parliamentary spokesperson for Junts del Catalunya, insists on making all her presentations in that language. Since nobody else in las cortes either likes her or cares what she is saying, few deputies bother to plug a pinganillo into their ear for the translation...

Since we got on this subject, I would suggest that el inglés is probably the fourth-spoken idioma in Spain – rising to second place during the summer months.

Having trodden on more than a few toes with the foregoing, I’ll note here that my friend José Antonio Sierra (who founded the Spanish Cultural Institute in Dublin, and served as Director and Cultural Manager of the Instituto Cervantes in Dublin for many years) has been campaigning in Andalucía to get the escuelas oficiales de idiomas, who merrily teach English, French and German, to offer courses in Spain’s minority languages, so far without success.

Easter Week is here and for once the weather is on its best behaviour. Perhaps a few showers up there in Galicia (they seem to enjoy them), but warm and sunny for the rest of Spain.

Which means tourists, visitors, families and an agreeable amount of mayhem and hullabaloo. 

Those city folk who can trace the heritage of a far-off beginning in some abandoned pueblo will be back for a few days, making a fuss of the old people who stayed behind, proudly parking their car in the street which used to be more familiar with donkeys than with SUVs. The old kitchen with the fire lit and an agreeable smell of chicken and sausage (bought yesterday at El Corte Inglés) floats out the door where the menfolk are doing their best to appreciate some home-made wine, el vino casero. It’s rough but it’s honest.  

But most of Spain, plus a generous number of foreign visitors (they’ve wisely cancelled their hols in Turkey or Cyprus and decided on the old standby of España once again) are now on the beach, getting their first rays since last summer.

The locals are performing their processions, La Virgen María is on the move, and the town band is tootling along behind her, providing melancholic or joyous melodies as demanded. Jesús may be carried solemnly from the church once around the square no touchies, and followed by a clutch of old girls in black, but most of us are in the bars, the restaurants and the souvenir shops (which have stayed open late, just for you).

Is Easter a religious or a pagan holiday? Who knows and, with some small but no doubt vocal exception, who cares? 

The cities are another thing again. More crowds taking the week off work, milling about with their perambulators, and then there are the penitents, the nazarenos, often dressed in capirotes (those sinister outfits with the robes and pointy heads) marching down the side streets in columns, briefly posing for the cameras.

Easter is fun. There are special cakes at the bakery – including those wonderful torrijas soaked in milk, egg and sugar then fried (or with sweet wine instead of the milk): it’s a sort of jolly version of French toast, or if your generosity stretches far enough, the Spanish answer to the British hot cross bun.

It’s now the start of the season, and this year Spain is certain to hit its goal of a hundred million foreign tourists (after all, apart from France, where else can they go?). Once the Semana Santa is over, and before the bacchanalia really takes hold, I might be just about able to zip down to the supermarket (and the library) to load up on provisions for the inevitable summer onslaught.

My shopping list reads: beer, bangers and books.

For sure, it’s gonna be a hot one.  

There are two kinds of energy – one that is mined from the earth and the other which comes from the skies (or the lakes). The first is expensive to obtain, is (eventually) limited in supply and is a contaminant.

The other is wind, sun and water: limitless, free and easily harvested.

For a while there, the solar and wind energy were considered such a threat to the oil industry (and its taxes) that the PP government of Mariano Rajoy came up with a ‘Sun Tax’ (2015 – 2018) to disincentivise the solar industry. It was aimed at consumers who would be harvesting their own energy (principally from solar panels) and thus depriving the power company of its due. A bit like growing one’s own tomatoes but still having to pay a levy to the supermarket. Plus, of course, handing over the ones you didn’t eat. 

Silly, really, with all the sun we have here. We read: Spain typically receives over 2,500 to over 3,000 hours of sun annually, while Germany averages around 1,600 to 2,000 hours, and the UK generally receives 1,300 to 1,500 hours.

Back in 2012, Germany’s "Energiewende" (energy transition) and consistent feed-in tariffs spurred massive solar installations, making it the European market leader. The country had more solar power than Spain, despite their cloudy skies. Indeed, it still does today.

Here in Spain, we have plenty of clean energy, but oddly, we are still heavily reliant on oil.

Which has gone up thanks to its scarcity – for reasons to do with faulty politics elsewhere.

Then, the Government steps in to give subsidies, to lower the tax on gasoline from 21 to 10%, and help the farmers, the fishermen and certain other sectors. 

Faced with every oil crisis, says journalist Ignacio Escolar, Spain repeats the same formula: fuel discounts we don't have, paid for with public money we don't have to spare. It's a populist, ineffective, and regressive recipe. A misguided idea that has been backfiring for half a century.

Oil embargos or suddenly heightened prices (usually something to do with middle eastern aggression) are resolved in Spain with a desperate plan to avoid unpopular increases at the pump, meaning discounts which – along the way – would negatively affect Spain’s balance of payments. Consumption therefore remains unchanged, while the evidence to switch to clean fuels (such as electric vehicles) is largely ignored. Spain (normally speaking) has the second lowest taxes on petrol in Europe after Bulgaria – although it’s true that the base price for petrol and diesel varies slightly between countries.

As for electric vehicles, Spain can claim about 5.4% of its fleet to be fully electric (against Germany at 18.4%). ‘Oh, but they take so long to charge up’, you might say. However, it’s an industry that’s changing fast. The latest BYD Flash Charging stations available in China now take five minutes for a full charge.    

Having one’s own solar energy panels, says some bright spark, is a call for independence (imagine if Cuba was thus prepared). Having the entire country run on redeemable energy (if and when) is even more so. Neither coal nor oil to be torn from Mother Earth and turned – in part – into smoke, fumes and toxic pollution. Furthermore, a country like Spain with no domestic oil or gas production, can only keep its imports down with clean energy alternatives.

Today, Spain produces cheaper electricity thanks to renewables, which account for almost 60% of production. “Last Saturday, the price of a megawatt-hour in Spain was 14 euros, compared to more than 100 in Italy, Germany, or France,” boasted Pedro Sánchez at his press conference last week. “Spain is better prepared than almost any other country in our region for this energy shock,” he added. This is only half true.

In renewable electricity production, we have done our homework. Spain gets very good marks. However, in transportation, the failure is absolute.

Nobody wants to take such an unpopular measure as raising gasoline or diesel prices – or allowing them to rise. Electricity in Spain—the wholesale price—is among the cheapest in Europe. There are times, almost every week, when renewable energy production exceeds total demand. And yet, here we are: subsidizing energy we don't have through taxes, instead of investing in the energy we have in surplus.

Relations between Spain and the USA appear to be having a tough moment as the ineffable Yankee president lowers the tone to bar-room talk.

Trump calls Spain a ‘loser’ and warns the United States will not be a ‘team player’.

“Spain? I think they've been very bad” US President Donald Trump, speaking to reporters at the White House on March 11.

“I’m not learning your damn language, I don’t have time”, Trump telling the Latin American presidents (an anecdote that made its way to Spain).

Then there was Spanish-speaking Bad Bunny performing at the Super Bowl (“an affront to the United States”).

All in all, one might be forgiven for considering the MAGAts to be dumb (in the American meaning of the word) and most Europeans tend to take that line.

The USA is not easily comparable to Europe – Spain for example, a large European country, is 35% smaller than Texas. Over there, you can go a long way in your automobile and still be in the same country, eating the same food and watching the same television.

But not all Americans are Republicans, and even less these days are Trump supporters. Perhaps Trump just needs a decent paella and to sit on the beach in Marbella for a few days. Hey, the girls there often go topless.

There are of course, many Americans who love Spain – a country that has long been a favoured destination for American intellectuals. I can think offhand of Orson Welles, James Mitchener, Ernest Hemingway, Washington Irving, Barack Obama, Ava Gardner, Richard Gere, Michael Douglas, Gino Hollander and my old friend and neighbour the late Ric Polansky – who would never knowingly miss a bullfight. 

Spain/US relations have been a case of love and hate. Spain after all was long there before the USA was even a glimmer in the eye of George Washington (seen here crossing the Potomac).

Puerto Rico, Florida, California, Texas and so on were all once held by Madrid.

The Americans backed Cuba when it revolted against its overlords in 1898 leading to the Spanish–American War which soon cost Spain most of its remaining empire: Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam and The Philippines. 

Washington supported the Nationalists during the Francoist uprising, with the later comment from Madrid: ‘without American petroleum and American trucks, and American credit, we could never have won the Civil War’.

But that was then, now we are all happily united under the Nato flag.  

Donald Trump evidently has a grim view of Spain, as do (and must) his toadies. Lindsey Graham thinks that they should withdraw their two military bases in Seville and Cádiz and another, the foreign policy analyst Michael Rubin, suggests American support for Morocco to annex Melilla and Ceuta (with their combined population of 170,000).

While we are on the subject, there was even a plan, back in the 1890s, to invade and occupy the Canary Islands. Maybe somebody in the Pentagon could dust that one off.

Political pressure comes these days from the US embassy, warning its citizens to avoid Spain’s upcoming protests over ‘recent events in the Middle East’. On a happier note, the Madrid leader (and arch-conservative) Isabel Díaz Ayuso says she intends to celebrate the coming 250th anniversary of American independence on the 4th of July.

It certainly sounds fun.

Donald Trump evidently supports Spain’s far-right parties and receives homage from them in return. This may not be doing them a favour, as the Iran mission is far from popular here.

President Sánchez says: ‘¡No a la Guerra!’. Over in Hollywood, Javier Bardem echoed the sentiment at the Oscars: ‘No to War and Free Palestine’, earning ‘a huge round of applause’.

In Spain, they know a dictator when they see one. Giving in to one, whichever one, is out of the question.

I see we have been recently blessed with an alarming number of Döner Kebab outlets. My little Shangri-La has six (!) of them and Turre, the pueblo up the road, has another three.

Garrucha Port has eight of them (who needs fish?).

Indeed, the whole of Spain appears to be stiff with them. 

Is this the end of the late night pizza and the bocadillo filled with battered squid rings?

I checked with Google, which shrugged its shoulders helplessly. In Germany, there are 16,000 of them. Queues stretching around the block. In Spain, ¿quien sabe?

Another answer from Google says: 'Kebabs can be a healthy, high-protein meal, particularly when choosing grilled chicken or lean meat skewers served with vegetables and pita. However, commercial döner kebabs are often high in saturated fat and sodium, potentially exceeding daily allowances. Healthiness depends on meat quality, portion size, and sauce choices'. 

The BBC is equally catty: '...Last year food scientists for Hampshire county council found that döner kebabs were the fattiest takeaways. One contained 140g of fat, twice the maximum daily allowance for women, and the calorific equivalent to a wine glass of cooking oil. And 60% of the kebabs tested were high in trans fat, which raises cholesterol levels...'

Later it says: 'Research by the UK's Food Standards Agency in 2006 found that 18.5% of döner takeaways posed a "significant" threat to public health, and 0.8% posed an "imminent" threat...'

But that was in England twenty years ago. What about Spain in 2026?

Are they worth a try?

No doubt a good one is a culinary delight, especially with that yummy yoghurt sauce and some salad - however I imagine that restauranteurs blinded by the bright lights of commerce might find it easy to, er, cut corners. 

The last one I had was around 40 years ago. It was pretty tasty as I recall.

It's time I had another go. Maybe wash it down with a beer. 

But which one of them all is the very best? I suspect that I am only going to risk it the one time...

One of the most prominent memories in the Spanish scrapbook, along with the picture of the caudillo under the heading ¡Españoles, Franco ha Muerto! and another of the rebel Guardia Civil Antonio Tejero firing his revolver into the ceiling of Las Cortes, the Spanish Parliament, would be the smiling and unctuous photograph of José María Aznar along with Tony Blair and George W Bush at their meeting in the Azores on the eve of the (Second) American Gulf War and invasion of Iraq twenty three years ago this month.

Aznar paid dearly (as did Spain) for getting this country involved in a foreign adventure, especially so a year later on March 11 2004 when Arab terrorists planted some bombs in the local Madrid railway system, killing 193 people and wounding some 2,000 more.

Aznar compounded his error by blaming the wrong set of assassins, the Basque ETA group rather than Al Qaeda. This cost his party the general election just two days later, allowing the PSOE leader José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero to become the new president of Spain.

One of his first acts was to reverse Spain’s participation in the war against Saddam.

The question of course now arises – what policy would an actual PP/Vox government have taken following the current Israeli/American attack against Iran?

As we don’t have such a leadership, let us look instead at Pedro Sánchez.

I like a quote of his: ‘Spain opposes this catastrophe. Because we understand that governments are there to improve people’s lives, to solve problems, not to worsen them. And it is unacceptable that leaders who are incapable of fulfilling this task use the smokescreen of war to mask their incompetence and line the pockets of a select few’.

Donald Trump answered this by saying something like – ‘who needs Spain anyway?’

That remains to be seen; as much of the European Union, after a certain hesitation, now appears to agree with Sánchez. Although, you see, there’s Feijóo ‘and his Mariachis’ who of course continue to see themselves as vassals of Trump. A plan which is not playing well with much of the Spanish electorate.

Why do the conservatives here (with their allies in the Media) always try and sink the Spanish ship of state?

68% of Spaniards, says El País, say they are against Trump and Netanyahu’s war, with 23% being in favour. Even El Mundo (a conservative newspaper) can’t do much better, with 62% against the war (although we are told in the same headline that those respondents prefer China to the USA).

We see that the right-wing’s patriotism, it seems, has exceptions. It works against immigration, against separatists, against the left, against anyone who doesn't subscribe to the right's short-sighted view of Spain. But it vanishes the moment a thug with an American flag arrives and orders everyone to stand at attention.

Sánchez says – before we all cry ¡No Pasarán! – ‘The people must be aware that what may happen to their wallets has nothing to do with the decisions of the Spanish Government, but with a war in Iran that is illegal and that will bring much suffering.”

We’ve already seen the rise in petrol prices and the next electric bill won’t be far behind.

The Guardian reckons that Pedro Sánchez is ‘one of the very few European leaders to openly and emphatically reject the demands of a US president whose trademark negotiating style is an erratic mix of bullying, humiliation and self-aggrandisement’.

The war (or invasion) has had some bad press, from torpedoing an apparently unarmed Iranian frigate in international waters, to callously bombing a girls’ school with at least 165 children dead. Then there was the obscene prayer-meeting in the Oval Office (our fundamentalists are better than their fundamentalists) as ‘non-commissioned officers were elsewhere being told that the Iran war is part of God’s plan and that President Donald Trump was “anointed by Jesus to light the signal fire in Iran to cause Armageddon and mark his return to Earth”’. Not my Jesus, Buddy. 

Let’s give Sánchez the last word: ‘Es un orgullo ser español. Por defender lo que defendemos ante la barbarie y ante la guerra’. It is a source of pride to be Spanish. For defending what we defend in the face of barbarism and war.

No doubt I'll have to update this essay... (just sayin')