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/ kalebeul / category / of philosophers / george orwell /

The minister’s knickers

“The Parallel has tree faces,” writes Max Aub in Campo cerrado, “day, night, and Sunday morning.” The Parallel–crammed with artistes and whores–was a key location in the rise of the anarchist gangsters for whom Orwell fought, yet the Church of England’s favourite anarchist seems to have missed it and various other crucial locations on the [...]

They’re coming to take me away

Cars and chariots of death.

Burying Bakunin

Homage to Catalonia achieved the double-whammy of focusing attention on the Stalinist terror that followed the 1937 coup while whitewashing the merciless anarchist repression here in 1936. With the heroic optimism that often accompanies foreign jaunts, Orwell seems to have approved wholeheartedly–although never in public, my dears!–of the slaughter or exile of the Catalan clergy [...]

Digging up Orwell

Orwell biographer DJ Taylor wants to dig up the common of Southwold, a quiet Suffolk seaside resort, in order to find a time capsule that Orwell allegedly buried there 70 years ago. If found, I suspect that it will not contain a bucket and spade.

Reflets sur l’eau

When we went down to the beach last Saturday to see how much of it had survived last week’s storms, a little old man was sitting on the wooden decking of the walkway drinking beer. We sat next to him and exchanged pleasantries while he finished one can and opened another. Thus emboldened, our Cordovan [...]

Ooh I really hate that Tony Blair, by Rafael Ramos

Those of you with a memory longer than those interesting socks your boss is wearing this morning may remember that I pointed out in May that Rafael Ramos, La Vanguardia’s correspondent in London, appeared to be semi-literate, prone to invention, and a plagiarist. When I complained to the paper’s ombudsman, Josep Maria Casasús, he emailed [...]

Political animals

Elections are still taken too seriously in Spain and Spain is still too monocultural for there to have arisen a tradition of mock-millenialist non-conformist participants such as Holland’s Rapaille Partij and Britain’s Monster Raving Loonies. And this probably isn’t going to change anytime soon: judging by its mistakes, this Sant Cugat election poster (click it!) [...]

Barcelona. Shop no 1 is closed at 11:30, well within its normal opening hours. The iron street blinds are down and there’s no message posted, so I walk across town to shop no 2. Yes, no problem, pay now and we’ll confirm the delivery date in a moment. The call comes a couple of hours later:
- That model isn’t available right now.
- When will it be?
- We may be able to tell you later this month, so to save trouble why don’t you just buy this more expensive model?
- No thanks. I’ll be over later to get my money.
- Oh, we’ll have to see about that.
I tend to try to buy through foreign suppliers and I pray for the day when the Chinese will be running everything. Call me a racist, but it keeps me out of the loony bin.

It now seems that Iceland has defaulted, apparently believing Russia will be foolish enough to attempt to protect what’s left of its cod against ETA trawlers from Bilbao. Spain is not going down that road, at least not yet, but one of the more-quoted papers on the subject (De Paoli, Hoggarth & Saporta, Cost of sovereign debt) informs us that it did so thirteen times between 1500 and 1900. I rather liked this Punch item on steps towards a more united Europe, dated September 1 1860:

LATEST CLUB NEWS
SPAIN, put up by France and Austria, as a candidate for admission to the United European, has been blackballed by England, who declines to associate with an Uncertificated Insolvent. Spain is so frantic that she is half inclined to pay her debts, but will probably think twice over so rash an act.

The Dutch haven’t got any genuine armed forces, so they’re sending in the bailiffs to repossess office furniture from the Dutch Icesave, which has also done a runner.

Classic nimbyism, enabled by Spain’s lack of effective central government: Castilla y León has lots of wolves, but other communities which, according to ecologists, should in historical and biological terms have some, don’t want to take the overproduction. So they’re being shot. I don’t suppose we could airlift them to the outskirts of Reykjavik.


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