Vicis nacionals

Crouched on the street with the usual placard. A granny passes:
–5 cents, for the love of God!
–Sorry, no.
–Well then let me give you a lucky gypsy kiss! (Leaps up and embraces the granny, despite her protests.)
–Oh all right then. Wait, I want to give you 20 cents.
–Thanks, I’ve already got it.
Tribes continue to be rounded up and deported. These are clearly not racist razzias because, unlike the Italians, we have a socialist government.

Sevillanadas has photoshopped back into place one of the Moorish city’s gates, demolished in 1868 by the same man who restored it twenty years earlier following a serious bout of generalised brotherly hate. Will it now be rebuilt?

Francesc Peirón and his Vanguardia editors don’t know the name of the world’s most famous stock market index. “Down Jones” is used jokingly for “Dow Jones” when the market is falling (it’s up this morning) and in suppressing the Legitimate National Aspirations of the Welsh Race (we have none).

Vilafranca is a quiet country town, but the weekly market attracts an interesting range of pickpockets. Hopefully numbers will increase as the works in the main square are completed and the recession begins to bite. This lady put her hand into S’s pocket at a vegetable stall:

She works with another Latin American women with magnificent Indian features who she is calling to find out where she has got to. The stallholder says they are both newcomers. Neither had time for interviews.