I just found out there are no advertising billboards within 150 metres of the highways in Spain. But there are bulls – very large black ones, all of them 14 metres high. About 90 are scattered around the country. They used to advertise Osbourne’s Sherry until the advertising ban meant Osbourne had to take their logo off the bulls. But the bulls stayed and everyone who cares to know what sherry is, knows what the bulls represent. And in a country like Spain, the significance of bulls is up there with the pope. Osbourne’s 1 authorities 0.
Before getting into the road trip we need to consider Madrid, a truly magnificent city. But when we arrived, something was amiss (and amister). It took me approximately two minutes to be struck by the prevalence of crutch hugging cut away shorts and tiny, tight tank-tops. Sure, it’s summer but then I realised it’s also Gay Pride Week. There were stereotypes everywhere. And the straight girls were doing their best to compete in the skimpyness stakes.
Incidentally, and I digress (again), does Gay Pride Week only cater for the “G” in LGBTQ etc etc?
Now I’m as heterosexual as they come and I have absolutely nothing against homosexuals but opportunities to take the piss were everywhere. And I come from the Ricky Gervais School so if there is an opportunity to make a joke about anything, the default position is to do it and bugger the consequences. There is nothing quite as pathetic as a woke comedian whose alternative (to my and Ricky’s) default position is to abuse straight, white conservatives and ignore the absolute treasure trove that is the ridiculously idiotic green left (witness the current Democratic primaries in the US). If you’ll excuse my mixing my metaphors, this theme is not a minefield, it is a veritable goldmine.
In some virtue signalling quarters this would get me labelled homophobic and every other “phobic” under the sun. But I’m not the least bit scared of homosexuals which is what the word “homophobic” actually means (think arachnophobic or agoraphobic but not islamophobic, another stupid word which doesn’t mean what it purports to mean).
Anyway, the Spanish government would have been pleased to see an influx of big-spending, rainbow flag waving gays. Spaniards have this thing about electing socialists and obviously didn’t learn the hard lessons of 1936-1939 when this predilection with the left precipitated decades of fascist dictatorship under Franco. A rather extreme response to an exercise in democratic self-determination it has to be said. So instead of a vicious civil war with contributions from various scumbags from across the globe, now we have destruction of the economy via renewable energy. But this week we have seen a cocktail-led recovery.
What we most definitely haven’t seen is a hat-led recovery. It’s been stinking hot in Madrid with no cloud cover. My head would explode if I didn’t wear a hat in these conditions. So tell me why the current gay fashion of shaved head and 70’s porn star mo or beard alternative, with no hat, won’t result in an explosion of cranial melanomas in a few years that will make the AIDS epidemic look like a paper cut.
We can’t go to a new place without considering the food. Tapas has to be the best dining invention since barbecued mammoth. The CB and I sampled a few of the thousands here in Madrid. A bit of this and a bit of that interspersed with ice cold beers or lightly chilled Rioja (room temperature is for coffee and tea in this climate). The dining experience on this trip may result in a new gastronomic methodology in our household.