Our Ladies Of Wecan

All is not well in the Reform Church of Iglesias. The faithful have started to desert the pews of Saint Pablo and Our Lady of Wecan, seemingly alarmed at the thought that Wecan might weaken Spain by converting it into the Greek Unorthodox Church of Syriza. Had this thought not occurred to them before? Or is it the case that the faithful are only now rumbling Podemos? The easy part was grabbing hold of some power at the ballot box. The less easy part was always going to be convincing the faithful (and others) that, once handed this power, they aren't just a bunch of hairies from the students' union locked in mortal combat with each other in dissecting their own version of Dialectical Materialism rather than being taken seriously.

In former times, English slang gave us the "nit". In strictly linguistic terms, nit means nothing. The nit of slang was someone who was foolish, who did not do sensible things, who had nothing to offer except nittishness and being a nitwit. It would be harsh indeed to suggest that Podemos (We Can) have nothing to offer, because they have plenty, and some of it is sensible. However, they are doing their best to appear to be nits, a bunch of Charlies, some right Herberts, or even left Herberts.

Laura Camargo, considered by some to be the real power behind the Wecan throne in the Balearics of Dave Spart Jarabo, confronted the lovely, indeed immaculate Inmaculada de Benito of the Mallorcan hoteliers federation and launched into a tirade of fraud, worker abuses, exploitation, blah, blah. Laura might have a point, but it became lost in the vitriol. Why did she do it? Probably for public consumption. Wecan were wanting to show the Mallorcan public that they can stand up to the hoteliers, that the hoteliers' days in the sun of power are no more. Unfortunately, and despite a large number of Mallorcans concurring with the view that the hoteliers do have too much power, there is a far greater number who rely on the hoteliers and related businesses. Laura really should learn that she isn't in the students' union and that in the real world one adopts a less strident manner.

Our Lady Laura of Wecan was but one who was indulging in delivering sermons from the pulpit of Saint Pablo. There was also Our Lady Xelo. She informed his Royal Highness that, rather than splash the cash on the thrash at the Almudaina when various politicos and others are invited for some gin 'n' tonics, the moolah should go towards soup kitchens. On balance, one would have to agree with Xelo that this might be, in still-crisis times for many, a preferable deployment of financial resources, and the King, thoroughly admirable man that he is, might even be inclined to agree as well. However, protocol and all that does rather intrude into such affairs. Whether Xelo will ask for a doggy bag for her canapes and cut along with it to the nearest crisis centre after the reception, we will find out.