The precedents for, and some possible implications of, the Catalanisation of Barcelona’s cinemas. Plus some crowd-pleasing video of the Quebec language police in action. (Allez! Allez! Allez! And the hell with the economy!) All in somewhat fevered response to an article by Martin Dahms in the Tages-Anzeiger.

And of a great British pub landlord, Juan from Málaga.

Desultory bar philosophising on the socio-economic function of Secret Santa.

An illegal brothel at Girona Airport.

The cottaging zone is getting so popular they’re having to pipe the stuff in.

Arthur Thesleff seems to have burnt most film further east, but there’s a nice snap of some early Andalusians.

Gypsy clans living on an old dung heap north of Granada may have the answer.

A cloud of fruit flies have crawled in through Miquel Coll i Alentorn’s ear and devoured his brain.

Someone called Emily has found an original way of telling us apart.

It’s barrel-scraping time when the comments over at El país are smarter than the article. Check out Dienekes for a bit of common sense.

It would be Å vankmajer-nice to think that the wide-scale conversion of Spanish country restaurants into brothels is the logical, albeit unexpected consequence of a social craze for abandoning what is feared to be cultural in favour of what is assumed to be natural. However, the replacement of cooks by pimps means that we have not [...]

“Kraus was perfectly capable of using ‘feuilletonism’ without anti-Semitic undertones.”

As well as dancing the old fandango, being a brigand on the mountains, etc. His father was a something from Barcelonia. Here. Can anyone make out the entire text? (This isn’t Funiculì funiculà.)

I just don’t get why Jordi Pujol, the big man of Catalan nationalism over the past 40 years, said that “crossbreeding” (mestissatge) with immigrants would mean the end of Catalonia.
My dad’s been shagging Mrs P for years, and the kids are doing fine.