Regular readers of this column – and I know that a few of you are out there – will know about my ongoing relationship with the Spanish police.
Due to my angelic good looks, I’ve often tended to get pulled over by security guards at gated communities, stewards at football matches, and customs at the airport.
Even the girls behind the counter at McDonalds look at me warily.
But over the last few months I have been pulled over in my car by both the Local and Nacional Police and given a thorough grilling.
The one group of boys in azul who hadn’t pulled me over though were the Guardia Civil.
Well that was until last week. Now I have a very healthy respect for the Guardia.
As a motorbike-riding teenager in Spain in the 80s I had various encounters with the old style Guardia. Franco may have been dead for a decade but most of these guys didn’t know it and acted accordingly.
I frequently had the bruising to prove it and often used the phrase ‘Don’t Fxxk with the Guardia’. Nowadays of course, the Guardia Civil are a throughly modern force quite different from before.
But they still put the fear of god up most people. So imagine my lack of surprise when out for lunch with the Olive Press’ editor, we spotted a couple of Guardia at the bottom of the road.
They were about to wave us on when one spotted me and ‘Bam’ we were ordered to stop.
“This never happens to me,” said a bewildered Ed, who at 3pm was getting very peck’ish.
I however, had to fight the urge to shout ‘Bingo!’ having achieved the hattrick in just two months.
I’ve now got the complete set – Local, Nacional and Guardia! My next mission is to head up to Barcelona. I can’t wait to be detained by the Mossos d’ Esquadra!
Let the Games Begin!
A press realease for the Marbella Club Spring Games dropped into my inbox the other day.
Apparently the great and the good (and Philip Junot) get together for three days of skiing, golfing and tennis with a cup inevitably being awarded to some minor German aristoscrat or another.
I have half a mind to organise an alternative Marbella Spring Games, where the sports would include escrache avoiding and transfering your slush fund to your Swiss bank account in the shortest possible time.
Iñaki Undangarin could award the prizes.
And so to football.
I’m not a huge fan of the round ball, but I did follow Málaga’s heroics in the Champions League closely as it really did have something of the fairy tale about it.
While the pundits will debate endlessly about whether the winning Dortmund goal should have been allowed to stand, I’ve been telling my football mad friends that they should regard it akin to being dumped after a two-week all expenses paid fling with a supermodel in Antigua.
Don’t be sad it’s over…just be grateful it happened at all!!!
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