Members of the Balearic parliament last week became political prisoners, if only because they had attached small posters to the lids of their laptops in order to disguise which of them have got the latest and most expensive Mac PowerBook. These members were declaring their support for the Jordis, brothers in quasi-revolutionary arms who are currently banged up somewhere in Catalonia. Liberty for the Jordis read the posters displayed on the laptops.
Staring earnestly at the laptop screens were, quite naturally, the brother and sisterhood of Més and Podemos. PSOE, ostensibly partners in government, eschewed the opportunity to join in and become political prisoners. In fact, PSOE members of parliament don't tend to bother looking at laptops at all. Maybe they have more important things to do, like being parliamentarians. I mean, what do the likes of Més wild man David Abril find of such interest on a laptop? The Euromillions numbers?
If you've never taken the time to peer into a local estate agents, I recommend that you do. You will then appreciate how similar estate agents are to members of Més and Podemos. There they all are, eagerly ogling a computer screen. Well, I suppose if you're hunting for the commission on the sale of a five million euro gaff in Puerto Andratx, then you would do. That's the estate agents, by the way; not members of Més or Podemos (or maybe that's what they're doing in parliament as well).
Given that we learned once more last week that seven-figure properties are flying off the shelves (or rather the computer screens) but that local authorities can't find it within their generosity to make land available for affordable housing, perhaps the laptop-obsessed parliamentarians should display solidarity with those closer to home: Jordis plus families in Mallorca living in semi-penury and unable to find somewhere decent to live because all the property which isn't being flogged for seven figures had been snapped up and thrown up on Airbnb (before the government came along and put a stop to that - and rightly so).
Not, it has to be said, that this would go down at all well with the estate agents. A two hundred grand hovel in Inca? Not worth my while getting out of bed, mate.
But no, the parliamentarians - some of them - insist on campaigning for the Jordis and raising motions demanding that the Supreme Court immediately orders their release. Personally, I don't disagree - the Jordis and the others shouldn't be in prison - it's just that one feels these dear elected officials should be spending their time and taxpayer money in pursuit of more meaningful matters.
Someone asked me the other day if we are all led to believe that island politicians make themselves out to be a lot more important than they really are. The answer to which was unquestionably yes. Some are undoubtedly worthy and do worthy things, but how many are basically just nits who consider it worthwhile to waste parliament time on motions for which the parliament does not in any event have any say? (Separation of powers and all that; a regional parliament has no authority whatsoever to tell the Supreme Court what it should or shouldn't do.)
And how many of these nits have been thrust into a political spotlight courtesy of a small percentage share of the vote and now wish to foist Catalonia Mark II onto a populace that would rather slit its collective wrist than ever be under the control of Barcelona and find itself part of the mythical Catalan Lands?
Excluded, it must be stressed, from the ranks of the nit is our favourite president (aka speaker) of the Balearic parliament. Balti celebrated his first year as president last week, and he said that people may feel as though they can identify more with him than with someone who wears a suit and a tie.
If one looks like a one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band, favours a pair of Converse and drives a clapped-out Renault Twingo, then one probably does identify with Balti. But this is a disparagement. Balti's image may be somewhat unconventional, but he believes - and he's probably right to believe - that he's doing a decent enough job. And why shouldn't he?
He spoke last week about his first year, suggesting that people have got used to him now. More important was how sincere he sounded. Unlike some who are on-message with all the consensus and citizens guff, when he said that his motivation is to help the citizens, you were left under no illusion that he really meant it. There's a humility with the bloke that is endearing. And it's not as though he's actually coining it in. He earns 3,400 euros a month, and 800 of that is handed over to Podemos.
"I know why I took this step (to become speaker). I know we must be very clear in not falling into any temptation." Amen. Balti? Why not Balti? Think who has occupied the speaker's chair in the past. One of them will be looking at the inside of a prison cell for at least seven more years. And no, she is not a political prisoner.
Showing posts with label Balti Picornell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Balti Picornell. Show all posts
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Sunday, December 31, 2017
The Year Of Balti
One of the Three Kings, aka Three Wise Men, is Balthazar (other spellings are permitted). He was apparently a Babylonian scholar, which should really have set the alarm bells ringing in a Nativity sense, as Babylonia didn't exist as such around 0AD. But this is mere trifling. Balthazar was there, and that's all that matters.
Such wisdom has been passed down the generations and the millennia, and it finally settled on the chair occupied by the president (speaker) of the Balearic parliament. One has to take wisdom to be the principal attribute, as the Baltasar (this is the local spelling) of the Balearics is not someone who you would describe as scholarly. And it was this that helped elevate him to the status of my Person of the Year.
Balti Picornell became president after Xe-Lo Huertas was prised out of the speaker's throne for not having been thoroughly correct in a Podemos style. Podemos weren't about to give up the throne, as holding the parliament presidency was their reward for having acceded to being a complete pain in the arse as part of the so-called agreements for change by which the Balearic government allegedly operates. The party cast around for a suitable replacement for Xe-Lo. This suitability was meant to have been determined by the Podemos fascination with feminism. Unfortunately, they discovered that feminists were in short supply - female ones at any rate.
The closest they could thus get was Balti. This was despite the beard. It wasn't so much the hair, the beard, the sort of lumberjack shirt or his insistence on wearing Converse sneakers that were the problems where some within the government parties appeared to have been concerned. It was what Balti had done before. Depending on reports (or translation), he had either been a mechanic or a metalworker. Normally, the Balearic political class is dominated by those with law degrees or others who have been geography students or have owned (or continued to own) a chain of pharmacies. Balti didn't therefore quite fit the mould. Non-scholarly, it might have been suggested. And it was.
Well of course, they eventually all denied that having been a mechanic or a metalworker was in any way a reason for exclusion from the speaker's chair. Balti was duly anointed, and in a Babylonian manner became one of the more recognisable of all Podemos politicians. He even met up with Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the Podemos Tenerife rasta in Congress, Alberto Rodríguez.
Once installed, Balti endeared himself by completely refusing to bow to convention or indeed to bow to the King, to whom he instead gave a present of the book of the life of his namesake, the communist Aurora Picornell, who had been executed in 1937. There was also his Renault Twingo, in which he arrived on his first day as president. This was subsequently traded in for a secondhand Kangoo Van after he had a bit of a prang with the Twingo.
The exchange of vehicle occurred around the same time as Balti was being lauded by Podemos member of parliament Aitor Morrás for having gone on an official visit to Ibiza and having settled for just having the "dish of the day" at a local café. Nothing ostentatious for Balti, though we have still to find out if he has ever eaten balti.
Barely a month after becoming speaker, Balti rattled several cages by working entirely according to his Little Red Book. This was the book of parliamentary rules, one of which has to do with the speaker having the power to request that the media and the public leave the chamber if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. There was, and it had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. The press and public trooped out, and all the parties had a pop at Balti for having followed the rules.
Meanwhile, Balti was encountering some issues with his predecessor, Xe-Lo, and her sister-in-arms, Montse Seijas, who like Xe-Lo had been ejected from the Podemos parliamentary party. Xe-Lo and Montse were having to slum it in an office which, according to parliament technicians, was barely big enough to swing a cat let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. Xe-Lo and Montse issued a formal denuncia, and we never heard any more about it.
Montse, it was to turn out, clearly had designs on something more spacious. And so it happened that parliament's security became aware of noises at night on the third floor of the parliament building. They went and investigated, and who should they find but Montse, who had taken to sleeping in the parliamentarians' common room. Balti was informed, and he instructed security that no one was allowed in parliament offices or rooms after eleven at night. These were the rules.
Balti, who goes by the book. Sometimes. No question, however, that he was Person of the Year.
Such wisdom has been passed down the generations and the millennia, and it finally settled on the chair occupied by the president (speaker) of the Balearic parliament. One has to take wisdom to be the principal attribute, as the Baltasar (this is the local spelling) of the Balearics is not someone who you would describe as scholarly. And it was this that helped elevate him to the status of my Person of the Year.
Balti Picornell became president after Xe-Lo Huertas was prised out of the speaker's throne for not having been thoroughly correct in a Podemos style. Podemos weren't about to give up the throne, as holding the parliament presidency was their reward for having acceded to being a complete pain in the arse as part of the so-called agreements for change by which the Balearic government allegedly operates. The party cast around for a suitable replacement for Xe-Lo. This suitability was meant to have been determined by the Podemos fascination with feminism. Unfortunately, they discovered that feminists were in short supply - female ones at any rate.
The closest they could thus get was Balti. This was despite the beard. It wasn't so much the hair, the beard, the sort of lumberjack shirt or his insistence on wearing Converse sneakers that were the problems where some within the government parties appeared to have been concerned. It was what Balti had done before. Depending on reports (or translation), he had either been a mechanic or a metalworker. Normally, the Balearic political class is dominated by those with law degrees or others who have been geography students or have owned (or continued to own) a chain of pharmacies. Balti didn't therefore quite fit the mould. Non-scholarly, it might have been suggested. And it was.
Well of course, they eventually all denied that having been a mechanic or a metalworker was in any way a reason for exclusion from the speaker's chair. Balti was duly anointed, and in a Babylonian manner became one of the more recognisable of all Podemos politicians. He even met up with Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the Podemos Tenerife rasta in Congress, Alberto Rodríguez.
Once installed, Balti endeared himself by completely refusing to bow to convention or indeed to bow to the King, to whom he instead gave a present of the book of the life of his namesake, the communist Aurora Picornell, who had been executed in 1937. There was also his Renault Twingo, in which he arrived on his first day as president. This was subsequently traded in for a secondhand Kangoo Van after he had a bit of a prang with the Twingo.
The exchange of vehicle occurred around the same time as Balti was being lauded by Podemos member of parliament Aitor Morrás for having gone on an official visit to Ibiza and having settled for just having the "dish of the day" at a local café. Nothing ostentatious for Balti, though we have still to find out if he has ever eaten balti.
Barely a month after becoming speaker, Balti rattled several cages by working entirely according to his Little Red Book. This was the book of parliamentary rules, one of which has to do with the speaker having the power to request that the media and the public leave the chamber if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. There was, and it had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. The press and public trooped out, and all the parties had a pop at Balti for having followed the rules.
Meanwhile, Balti was encountering some issues with his predecessor, Xe-Lo, and her sister-in-arms, Montse Seijas, who like Xe-Lo had been ejected from the Podemos parliamentary party. Xe-Lo and Montse were having to slum it in an office which, according to parliament technicians, was barely big enough to swing a cat let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. Xe-Lo and Montse issued a formal denuncia, and we never heard any more about it.
Montse, it was to turn out, clearly had designs on something more spacious. And so it happened that parliament's security became aware of noises at night on the third floor of the parliament building. They went and investigated, and who should they find but Montse, who had taken to sleeping in the parliamentarians' common room. Balti was informed, and he instructed security that no one was allowed in parliament offices or rooms after eleven at night. These were the rules.
Balti, who goes by the book. Sometimes. No question, however, that he was Person of the Year.
Sunday, October 15, 2017
Absolutely Fabulous: Parliamentary Fashion
The new Balti look was given an airing at the do for the Guardia Civil on Wednesday evening, when the atmosphere was so frosty between Sweet and Friendly Francina and the Witch of Salom that they should have all been togged up in scarves and mittens. The reason for this, what with Maria looking straight at Francina when accusing the government of undermining national identity, had something to do with a bit of a carry-on in Catalonia, whatever that was all about.
Balti wasn't alone in mystifying or intriguing keen political fashion observers. Earlier in the week there was a line-up of various parliamentarians who had gathered for a photo opp to publicise a highly worthy initiative, which is that next year will be the year of mental health in the Balearics. One stresses that this is a most laudable idea, but what sort of statements were some of our dear parliamentarians making in order to honour it? I mean, why was Marga Prohens dressed in some kind of Baby Doll frock and looking as though she was sweet sixteen? The contrast with the Podemos Boot Girl, Laura Camargo, couldn't have been greater. Laura was in a power black dress. She might have failed in her bid to become the Podemos Coordinator, but she was leaving the victor - Granny Mae - in no doubt as to who still wears the trousers, the boots and the black dress around Podemos. She has, after all, spent the past couple of years letting Alberto Jarabo know this.
But there was more. The Earth Mother, Patricia Gómez, had traded in the kaftan for a full-length black gown and white jacket. The health ministry must have been having a cocktail party to celebrate having reduced consultant waiting times by 0.47% this month. It was hard to think what other explanation there could possibly have been.
And then, ah yes then, there was Xe-Lo. Removed from the public eye for some months since having been dispatched to the Valley of the Fallen behind the PP in the parliament arena, Balti's predecessor was clearly determined to make a real statement and to confirm one's suspicions that she had indeed spent much of her time as parliament president developing the Xe-Lo range for the fuller feminist.
What a statement it was too. Black t-shirt on which was emblazoned in a sparkly silver on two rows - FABU LOUS. Well, you go for it, girlfriend. It must indeed be absolutely fabulous to still be picking up the parliamentary pay cheque, despite having been banished by Podemos. But while we're at it, what actually was it with the use of English? Does the government's linguistic "normalisation" police know about this? Maybe there should in fact be a government fashion normalisation department. No, forget that, they might actually think it's a good idea and put Balti in charge.
* Photo comes from the Partido Popular.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
When The King Met Balti
Do you suppose that when the King's packing for his summer hols he thinks to himself who on Earth are the Mallorcans going to drag out for me this time? One guesses that he doesn't need to as he is already well aware. The Royal Household presumably has a sort of regional politician ProZone software analysis replete with video footage to put on DVD for his Majesty. The King will know in advance how to play the Mallorcan politicos.
He's getting used to it. Francina and her ilk are a piece of cake, as they conform to the norm for the smiling photo opportunities. Others are less so. Previously the King was confronted with Xe-Lo. Why doesn't His Majesty, rather than splash out for the Almudaina thrash, spend it all on soup kitchens for the downtrodden citizens of Palma, she inquired of him. The question hadn't, though, prevented Xe-Lo attending the thrash and eating all the pies.
Balti is another thing altogether. How often does the Royal Household arrange audiences for the King and haul in the bass guitarist from a heavy rock band? Not too often, one would think. What do they talk about? Does Balti offer tips on Converse footwear? Might the King (and Queen) think about kitting out the nippers with such informal feet furniture? We'll find out tomorrow when the family does its annual photo pose in the Marivent Gardens (appropriately closed to the general public). If it's anything like last year, Balti will be disappointed. The royal 2016 collection was like a Marks and Sparks summer pastels range with a slight nautical theme for him and her and the kids. There was certainly no sign of any Converse.
The King, you may not know, does Facebook, though one suspects that someone does it for him. If he really did it, one might expect one of those hilarious (sic) interventions on statuses which goes - That awkward moment when you ... (add as applicable). In the King's case, it would be - That awkward moment when you are presented with an extreme Republican with hair down his back and a pair of Converse sneakers. To which, if it were really him and his friends, Tizzy might reply - "You ok, hun?"
In fact, the King might want to have a word with whoever at the Royal Household does his Facebook page. There are four snaps of him with the happy politicos. And they are all obviously happy. Francina is positively radiant and beaming. Balti is clearly delighted. Mick of the Council is pleased enough with himself, while Noggin of Palma town hall bears the contented look of someone who has just been made mayor (which he has). The King on the other hand ... .
But if one looks carefully at the King's status with these photos, one finds in the accompanying texts that Francina, Mick and Noggin are, respectively, D.ª Francina Armengol i Socías, D. Miquel Ensenyat Riutort and D. Antoni Noguera Ortega. They are therefore either Dona or Don. But with Balti it's just Baltasar Picornell i Lladó. No Don for Balti. Perhaps he had requested there shouldn't be. Either way, we should be told.
* The King on Facebook: https://es-es.facebook.com/FelipeReyfelip/
He's getting used to it. Francina and her ilk are a piece of cake, as they conform to the norm for the smiling photo opportunities. Others are less so. Previously the King was confronted with Xe-Lo. Why doesn't His Majesty, rather than splash out for the Almudaina thrash, spend it all on soup kitchens for the downtrodden citizens of Palma, she inquired of him. The question hadn't, though, prevented Xe-Lo attending the thrash and eating all the pies.
Balti is another thing altogether. How often does the Royal Household arrange audiences for the King and haul in the bass guitarist from a heavy rock band? Not too often, one would think. What do they talk about? Does Balti offer tips on Converse footwear? Might the King (and Queen) think about kitting out the nippers with such informal feet furniture? We'll find out tomorrow when the family does its annual photo pose in the Marivent Gardens (appropriately closed to the general public). If it's anything like last year, Balti will be disappointed. The royal 2016 collection was like a Marks and Sparks summer pastels range with a slight nautical theme for him and her and the kids. There was certainly no sign of any Converse.
The King, you may not know, does Facebook, though one suspects that someone does it for him. If he really did it, one might expect one of those hilarious (sic) interventions on statuses which goes - That awkward moment when you ... (add as applicable). In the King's case, it would be - That awkward moment when you are presented with an extreme Republican with hair down his back and a pair of Converse sneakers. To which, if it were really him and his friends, Tizzy might reply - "You ok, hun?"
In fact, the King might want to have a word with whoever at the Royal Household does his Facebook page. There are four snaps of him with the happy politicos. And they are all obviously happy. Francina is positively radiant and beaming. Balti is clearly delighted. Mick of the Council is pleased enough with himself, while Noggin of Palma town hall bears the contented look of someone who has just been made mayor (which he has). The King on the other hand ... .
But if one looks carefully at the King's status with these photos, one finds in the accompanying texts that Francina, Mick and Noggin are, respectively, D.ª Francina Armengol i Socías, D. Miquel Ensenyat Riutort and D. Antoni Noguera Ortega. They are therefore either Dona or Don. But with Balti it's just Baltasar Picornell i Lladó. No Don for Balti. Perhaps he had requested there shouldn't be. Either way, we should be told.
* The King on Facebook: https://es-es.facebook.com/FelipeReyfelip/
Sunday, June 04, 2017
Montse On A Sofa
Bear with me a moment, I have a story from university days. It concerns a friend who spent a good part of an entire academic year living in an office. This was the college junior common room's office (JCR, for those of you unfamiliar with such things, being the student organisation). The office was nicknamed the Witch office, after the college student magazine that ultimately folded under the weight of potential libel and obscenity charges.
When one says that this friend lived in the office, he only slept there. Facilities, such as showers, kitchen, what have you, were readily available in friends' halls of residence corridors; mine, normally. There was rarely any issue with his using the office. Security, such as it was, fell to the college porters, who would not make a habit of entering the office. Until Old Frank did. He was a dear chap with a Blackburn accent, of whom the student body was very fond, unlike another of the porters - Young Frank (though young was relative). Old Frank once stumbled into the office and very swiftly stumbled out again. He was later to be found wandering along corridors, muttering to anyone who came in earshot: " 'Ave you 'eard abaht shaggin' in t'Witch office?" By which time, we most certainly had.
The reason for the friend utilising the office was pretty simple. Money. Despite being on a full grant (there were such things then), there were greater priorities to living than paying for books or, more importantly, rent.
This anecdote serves as an introduction to what has been occurring in the Balearic parliament. The Old Franks of parliament security were alerted recently to noises on the third floor of the building. This was in the early hours of the morning. They considered calling the police but decided to investigate for themselves. The room on the third floor is the one available as a rest area for parliamentary deputies. It has, among other things, showers, a telly and sofas. The Old Franks entered and who should they find but Montse Seijas. One should point out that noises were not of the Witch office nature. Montse was there on her own, bedded down on a sofa. But naturally enough the Old Franks sought out Balti the next day. " 'Ave you 'eard abaht Montse in t' office?"
The president of parliament, the equivalent of a college bursar, thus informed the Old Franks that after eleven at night there can be no one in the parliament's offices. And there most certainly cannot be anyone sleeping in them. Called to explain herself, Montse said that she often worked late and had availed herself of parliament accommodation on four or five occasions.
Now, the thing with Montse is that is she's from Minorca (actually, she's from Galicia, but that's another matter). She was a Podemos deputy for Minorca before Podemos threw her out of the party. The Minorca connection entitles her to a 90 euros a night allowance. Given this, some people put two and two together. Or thought they did. Montse has flatly denied trousering the 90 euros and sleeping in parliament for free. She couldn't, she said, keep on imposing herself on friends, she doesn't have a car and she had been unable to find a hotel. "It's very difficult to find one in the centre of Palma," she complained.
And let's be honest, she has a point. A report last week suggesting that one can hand over up to 500 euros a night for a Palma hotel room makes the 90 euros allowance seem distinctly miserly. What could one get for 90 euros anyway? It occurs to me that she might have booked something through Airbnb, but as a good Podemos deputy, or rather ex-Podemos, that would never do (unless you're Alberto Jarabo).
Balti's command was followed to the letter. The Old Franks came across Montse on another occasion. It was half eleven. You'll have to leave, they told her. Where did she go? She hasn't said. But it could be that she was forced to blow the equivalent of several nights' allowance on one night in a Palma boutique hotel. Wherever it was she went, she has had harsh words for her one-time comrade in Podemos, Balti. His decision to ensure that she is removed from the premises by eleven o'clock is all down to an obsession that Balti and Podemos have with her.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted, one supposes. And at least Montse had a sofa. The friend at university made do with the floor.
When one says that this friend lived in the office, he only slept there. Facilities, such as showers, kitchen, what have you, were readily available in friends' halls of residence corridors; mine, normally. There was rarely any issue with his using the office. Security, such as it was, fell to the college porters, who would not make a habit of entering the office. Until Old Frank did. He was a dear chap with a Blackburn accent, of whom the student body was very fond, unlike another of the porters - Young Frank (though young was relative). Old Frank once stumbled into the office and very swiftly stumbled out again. He was later to be found wandering along corridors, muttering to anyone who came in earshot: " 'Ave you 'eard abaht shaggin' in t'Witch office?" By which time, we most certainly had.
The reason for the friend utilising the office was pretty simple. Money. Despite being on a full grant (there were such things then), there were greater priorities to living than paying for books or, more importantly, rent.
This anecdote serves as an introduction to what has been occurring in the Balearic parliament. The Old Franks of parliament security were alerted recently to noises on the third floor of the building. This was in the early hours of the morning. They considered calling the police but decided to investigate for themselves. The room on the third floor is the one available as a rest area for parliamentary deputies. It has, among other things, showers, a telly and sofas. The Old Franks entered and who should they find but Montse Seijas. One should point out that noises were not of the Witch office nature. Montse was there on her own, bedded down on a sofa. But naturally enough the Old Franks sought out Balti the next day. " 'Ave you 'eard abaht Montse in t' office?"
The president of parliament, the equivalent of a college bursar, thus informed the Old Franks that after eleven at night there can be no one in the parliament's offices. And there most certainly cannot be anyone sleeping in them. Called to explain herself, Montse said that she often worked late and had availed herself of parliament accommodation on four or five occasions.
Now, the thing with Montse is that is she's from Minorca (actually, she's from Galicia, but that's another matter). She was a Podemos deputy for Minorca before Podemos threw her out of the party. The Minorca connection entitles her to a 90 euros a night allowance. Given this, some people put two and two together. Or thought they did. Montse has flatly denied trousering the 90 euros and sleeping in parliament for free. She couldn't, she said, keep on imposing herself on friends, she doesn't have a car and she had been unable to find a hotel. "It's very difficult to find one in the centre of Palma," she complained.
And let's be honest, she has a point. A report last week suggesting that one can hand over up to 500 euros a night for a Palma hotel room makes the 90 euros allowance seem distinctly miserly. What could one get for 90 euros anyway? It occurs to me that she might have booked something through Airbnb, but as a good Podemos deputy, or rather ex-Podemos, that would never do (unless you're Alberto Jarabo).
Balti's command was followed to the letter. The Old Franks came across Montse on another occasion. It was half eleven. You'll have to leave, they told her. Where did she go? She hasn't said. But it could be that she was forced to blow the equivalent of several nights' allowance on one night in a Palma boutique hotel. Wherever it was she went, she has had harsh words for her one-time comrade in Podemos, Balti. His decision to ensure that she is removed from the premises by eleven o'clock is all down to an obsession that Balti and Podemos have with her.
Oh well, it was good while it lasted, one supposes. And at least Montse had a sofa. The friend at university made do with the floor.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Xe-Lo And Montse Denounce Parliament
The office of the president (aka speaker) of the Balearic parliament is - decor-wise - much in keeping with the interior of houses inhabited by ancient Mallorcans. There is, therefore, an enormous amount of wood. Wood panelling, wood flooring, crafted wooden chairs, wooden coffee table and a very wooden desk. The principal concession to modernity is the three-piece with silken yellowish finishing that matches the curtains and what small areas of the walls aren't wood. The other concession is the occupant of the office, Balti.
Given his former life as some form of metalworker, one might have anticipated Balti having performed a metallic refit; even a Metallica one. Out with wood, in with aluminium. Or, in a more traditional (Mallorcan) style, in with some bits of old wrought iron that had been rusting in a shed in Binissalem and which can now be restored by artisan apprentices on youth guarantee schemes, paid for by the vast surplus that parliament turns in, and held up as examples of economic diversification and as a means of tackling tourism seasonality. (All types of alternative employment, you may have noticed, address seasonality.)
Not so long ago, the Balearic government was said to be eyeing up the cash that is sitting in parliament's bank accounts. In other words, the government wanted it. Assuming that the accounts haven't been raided or that finance minister Catalina Cladera hasn't been banging on the glass-pane wooden door to the office and handing in a demand for several million euros, President Balti will have a bit spare to kit out some other offices.
As there are some offices - one, in particular - which need a makeover, surely Balti could get in his new (secondhand) Kangoo and nip down to Ikea for some furniture. He must also, you would think, know the odd artisan office renovation chappy who could be hired, albeit that the process for doing so - in order to prevent any accusations of favouring a mate - would entail a public tender (put out for thirty days of public consultation) and verification by the numerous Podemos citizen councils.
So, getting things done, as in getting new offices sorted out, probably does take some time. Might this, therefore, be the explanation for the discontent being shown by two members of parliament - two former members of Podemos members of parliament?
Xe-Lo, who not so long ago could rattle around the vast presidential suite, and her chum Montse are clearly getting ever more brassed off with their ostracisation. The two fully paid-up members of the Not-Podemos-But-Would-Still-Like-To-Be Party have taken considerable umbrage at the state of their office, if only they had one.
There is apparently a room available, but parliament technicians have told Xe-Lo and Montse that it is barely big enough to swing a cat (not that anyone from Podemos either present or past would do such a thing) let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. These same technicians say that the room is not appropriate for working. This being the case and also that Xe-Lo and Montse are having to store vital documents in boxes, they've issued a denuncia against the parliament's board. Off it has gone to the employment ministry's work inspectorate, while they have also raised the matter with parliament's health and safety committee and the occupational hazard prevention officer.
This is clearly an outrage. Here we have a government which espouses dignified working conditions and yet two members of the house are presumably having to make do with sitting on a corridor floor. Obviously things have got so bad that they can't even just have a word in the shell-like of the employment minister, Iago Nicaragua (or whatever it is). He was himself, after all, once a work inspector.
Balti, meanwhile, appears not to have made any comment on this sorry state of affairs. In the spirit of being all-inclusive (in a citizens' style as opposed to a hotel), he must be able find space for Xe-Lo and Montse in his office. And with all that wood acting as soundproofing, no one would ever hear ... .
Given his former life as some form of metalworker, one might have anticipated Balti having performed a metallic refit; even a Metallica one. Out with wood, in with aluminium. Or, in a more traditional (Mallorcan) style, in with some bits of old wrought iron that had been rusting in a shed in Binissalem and which can now be restored by artisan apprentices on youth guarantee schemes, paid for by the vast surplus that parliament turns in, and held up as examples of economic diversification and as a means of tackling tourism seasonality. (All types of alternative employment, you may have noticed, address seasonality.)
Not so long ago, the Balearic government was said to be eyeing up the cash that is sitting in parliament's bank accounts. In other words, the government wanted it. Assuming that the accounts haven't been raided or that finance minister Catalina Cladera hasn't been banging on the glass-pane wooden door to the office and handing in a demand for several million euros, President Balti will have a bit spare to kit out some other offices.
As there are some offices - one, in particular - which need a makeover, surely Balti could get in his new (secondhand) Kangoo and nip down to Ikea for some furniture. He must also, you would think, know the odd artisan office renovation chappy who could be hired, albeit that the process for doing so - in order to prevent any accusations of favouring a mate - would entail a public tender (put out for thirty days of public consultation) and verification by the numerous Podemos citizen councils.
So, getting things done, as in getting new offices sorted out, probably does take some time. Might this, therefore, be the explanation for the discontent being shown by two members of parliament - two former members of Podemos members of parliament?
Xe-Lo, who not so long ago could rattle around the vast presidential suite, and her chum Montse are clearly getting ever more brassed off with their ostracisation. The two fully paid-up members of the Not-Podemos-But-Would-Still-Like-To-Be Party have taken considerable umbrage at the state of their office, if only they had one.
There is apparently a room available, but parliament technicians have told Xe-Lo and Montse that it is barely big enough to swing a cat (not that anyone from Podemos either present or past would do such a thing) let alone accommodate the substantial forms of both themselves (plus two lucky staff), a couple of tables, four chairs and a closet. These same technicians say that the room is not appropriate for working. This being the case and also that Xe-Lo and Montse are having to store vital documents in boxes, they've issued a denuncia against the parliament's board. Off it has gone to the employment ministry's work inspectorate, while they have also raised the matter with parliament's health and safety committee and the occupational hazard prevention officer.
This is clearly an outrage. Here we have a government which espouses dignified working conditions and yet two members of the house are presumably having to make do with sitting on a corridor floor. Obviously things have got so bad that they can't even just have a word in the shell-like of the employment minister, Iago Nicaragua (or whatever it is). He was himself, after all, once a work inspector.
Balti, meanwhile, appears not to have made any comment on this sorry state of affairs. In the spirit of being all-inclusive (in a citizens' style as opposed to a hotel), he must be able find space for Xe-Lo and Montse in his office. And with all that wood acting as soundproofing, no one would ever hear ... .
Sunday, May 07, 2017
All Bound For La La Land
"He's justified and he's ancient, he drives a Kangoo Van. He's justified and he's ancient, part of the master plan. They called him up in Felanitx and said Balti, stand for president. All bound for La La Land."
Borrowing from the words of Tammy Wynette and the KLF, Balti Picornell is justified as a determined Republican, he is ancient insofar as his appearance is one of having remained at Yasgur's Farm and the Woodstock Festival, while he does indeed drive a van. According to Tammy, the justified and ancient had an ice-cream van, but let's be honest, when was the last time you saw an ice-cream van in Mallorca. The nearest one gets is a lorry with a crane to lift an ice-cream kiosk from space it has occupied for centuries in Puerto Pollensa and at which septuagenarians hurl walking-sticks in protest at the eviction of their dairy goodness heritage.
Balti's van has been newly acquired. We learned this last week. Seemingly, he had a bit of a prang with his ancient Twingo and traded it in for a Kangoo. Does he have shares in Renault? Probably not, but it is most reassuring to learn that the Balearic parliament's president prefers something modest with which he can traverse the island by road, assuming that the roads are actually open.
Such modesty is all part of Balti's endearing charm, as also are his dining habits. We are yet to learn whether Balti does in fact eat Balti - a question I have been asking ever since he was elevated to the parliamentary presidency - but we are at least edging a little closer to knowing the Picornell prandial instincts. And we have to thank fellow Podemosite, Aitor Morrás, for offering the insight, which he did on Twitter last week.
Balti, opined Aitor in fewer than 140 characters, was "great" for having had a "dish of the day" at the Cafeteria Concord while on an official visit to Ibiza. You are probably as unfamiliar with this establishment as I was prior to Aitor's tweet. So I can inform you, courtesy of the gastronomic oracle that is TripAdvisor, that it ranks 127 out of 430 restaurants in Ibiza Town and receives 13 excellent reviews out of 17. "WanMadrid", for example, says that its prices are reasonable, something which is unusual for Ibiza. Moreover, its tortilla is "spectacular".
So was that it? Was tortilla Baltl's dish of the day? Aitor didn't get as far as explaining that. In fact, he removed the tweet. Whatever for? Did Balti not wish to be revealed as a modest diner? We will probably never know.
Still, Balti had his new (secondhand) Kangoo to continue him on his journey to La La Land (as opposed to the KLF's Mu Mu Land), which is where, were he a fellow traveller with Més (which he clearly isn't), he would have encountered Palma's Neus Truyol. In case you need reminding, Neus has, when not single-handedly been saving the city from drought, been pursuing a policy of converting Palma into Europe's recycling central. And pursuant to this, her Emaya municipal services agency staged the world premiere of its new video last week. Well, it went up on YouTube (4,075 views at time of writing).
This epic of awareness-raising, one might have hoped, would be replete with singing rubbish containers. "Please stuff me with your 1.5 litre plastic bottles from Eroski (other supermarkets do also apply)." Something snappy along those lines. Alas no. What we have instead is "La La Land, the Emaya Remix". From now on, all citizens, taking their lead from the video, will dance their way to the nearest containers, and they will wear broad smiles as they deposit the evidence of the previous night's drinking.
In the absence of the singing containers, they could at least have got Neus to do the dancing and singing, accompanied by fellow Mésite, the soon-to-be-mayor Noguera. But no. A PR trick missed, one fancies.
* The video is of the original Justified And Ancient, in case you were wondering as to the reference.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Balti's Little Red Book
It may well have been the first time that each parliamentarian reached for his or her Little (Reddish) Book. Obligatory reading it quite possibly is, but who ever complies with such obligation? They will from now on, rather in the way that Dylan Hartley promised to make the rules of rugby his bedside companion following the Italian (First Half) Job.
The whole episode stirred memories of the students' union past. Back in the day, Mao's Little Red Book was mandatory for all of a Maoist persuasion and even some who were not. The book would ostentatiously be laid on a junior common room bar table, while its owner ferreted for some scarce loose change with which to pay for a pint of Maoist Mitchell's bitter.
There was another book, one reserved only for the wise elders of the students' union. This was the constitution book. It itemised rules that had to be obeyed or conveniently ignored. Into the latter category fell "ultra vires" payments, an arcane matter that was nevertheless hauled out at every meeting. Could the Iranian 91 (or numerous alternatives) receive union funds or not? Very few students, bar the elders, gave a toss whether they could or couldn't.
Far greater observance was paid to the holding of meetings. Rules were there to be adhered to in order that Marxist-Leninists, Trotskyists, Maoists and other-ists were given their due time to apply and spout ideological thinking to the price of meat and two veg in the university refectories. The point having been, you see, that those of solidly left-wing convictions did things by the book (when it suited them).
Thus it was with Balti the other day. Rules contained in parliament's Little (Reddish) Book, which no one other than Balti had obviously read, permit the speaker to eject the citizens and the media if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. The decorum in this instance had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. Fellow Podemosites - Jarabo and The Boot Girl - had set up the chance to give Gijón a good booting. It wasn't to be in public, decreed Balti. The book says no.
Parties were unanimous in criticising Balti's observance of the letter of the rules. Those to the right were less willing to forgive. Balti had acted with "authoritarianism". He was "incompetent". Such reaction was entirely to have been expected. The opposition hadn't wanted Balti to succeed Xe-Lo Huertas. His qualification for the position was being drawn into question, as it had been prior to his election. What can a metalbasher, or whatever he was in a former life, know about parliamentary protocol? And one, moreover, who looks as if he still inhabits student unions circa the mid-1970s. Well, a great deal more than those whose qualifications for parliamentary life normally involve their having been lawyers, geographers or pharmacists, especially the latter. Or so it appeared.
Further criticism suggested that rather than parliament being open to the citizens in a participative, Podemos manner, it was being closed. We were thus to presume that Podemos say one thing and do the precise opposite. Which was nonsense. Balti was merely maintaining a tradition of hard-leftist application of rules, though he says he wouldn't do it in quite the same way the next time.
Frankly, it was a fuss about very little. And perhaps Balti had done the legal process and the odd parliamentarian a favour. A public airing of thoughts about Gijón might be less than wise, given that he has been implicated in various corruption allegations. He has also hinted that he is not above seeing in court anyone who voices allegations. Balti did right. Or was it left? Or was it neither?
The whole episode stirred memories of the students' union past. Back in the day, Mao's Little Red Book was mandatory for all of a Maoist persuasion and even some who were not. The book would ostentatiously be laid on a junior common room bar table, while its owner ferreted for some scarce loose change with which to pay for a pint of Maoist Mitchell's bitter.
There was another book, one reserved only for the wise elders of the students' union. This was the constitution book. It itemised rules that had to be obeyed or conveniently ignored. Into the latter category fell "ultra vires" payments, an arcane matter that was nevertheless hauled out at every meeting. Could the Iranian 91 (or numerous alternatives) receive union funds or not? Very few students, bar the elders, gave a toss whether they could or couldn't.
Far greater observance was paid to the holding of meetings. Rules were there to be adhered to in order that Marxist-Leninists, Trotskyists, Maoists and other-ists were given their due time to apply and spout ideological thinking to the price of meat and two veg in the university refectories. The point having been, you see, that those of solidly left-wing convictions did things by the book (when it suited them).
Thus it was with Balti the other day. Rules contained in parliament's Little (Reddish) Book, which no one other than Balti had obviously read, permit the speaker to eject the citizens and the media if a matter affecting parliament's "decorum" is to be debated. The decorum in this instance had to do with the PP's Álvaro Gijón. Fellow Podemosites - Jarabo and The Boot Girl - had set up the chance to give Gijón a good booting. It wasn't to be in public, decreed Balti. The book says no.
Parties were unanimous in criticising Balti's observance of the letter of the rules. Those to the right were less willing to forgive. Balti had acted with "authoritarianism". He was "incompetent". Such reaction was entirely to have been expected. The opposition hadn't wanted Balti to succeed Xe-Lo Huertas. His qualification for the position was being drawn into question, as it had been prior to his election. What can a metalbasher, or whatever he was in a former life, know about parliamentary protocol? And one, moreover, who looks as if he still inhabits student unions circa the mid-1970s. Well, a great deal more than those whose qualifications for parliamentary life normally involve their having been lawyers, geographers or pharmacists, especially the latter. Or so it appeared.
Further criticism suggested that rather than parliament being open to the citizens in a participative, Podemos manner, it was being closed. We were thus to presume that Podemos say one thing and do the precise opposite. Which was nonsense. Balti was merely maintaining a tradition of hard-leftist application of rules, though he says he wouldn't do it in quite the same way the next time.
Frankly, it was a fuss about very little. And perhaps Balti had done the legal process and the odd parliamentarian a favour. A public airing of thoughts about Gijón might be less than wise, given that he has been implicated in various corruption allegations. He has also hinted that he is not above seeing in court anyone who voices allegations. Balti did right. Or was it left? Or was it neither?
Sunday, February 12, 2017
The Balearic Parliament Show Goes On
Sweet and friendly Francina Armengol was apologising the other day for the "show" that has been the Balearic parliament. It's not the sort of display that the citizens - who else - deserve. Oh really? The citizens may not deserve it but, boy oh boy, have they been having a laugh. And things, as a political party elsewhere once maintained, can only get better, and we have Podemos to once more thank.
While many of the Podemos citizenry is away in Madrid or poised over the participation online voting button in deciding the fate of Pablo and The Infant Errejón, some of it has stayed at home in order to prepare for Tuesday's Great Show. Yes, Francina, the show must go on, and you're partly to blame (or to be thanked). Even if you don't understand a word of what's being said, I'd recommend a revision of normal daytime television viewing habits and tune into Tuesday's parliamentary session, during which Balti will ascend to the presidential (speaker's) throne.
It would be nice to think that this ritual could be performed with Balti clad in pure white robes and with angelic Jarabos and Camargos fluttering above him before anointing him with an artisan-crafted halo. "Truly he is the Son of Pablo," the angels would chant. Alas, this will not be. Balti, we can anticipate, will be sporting a checked sort of lumberjack affair and dodgy jeans. Besides which, any even vaguely religious connotation would be severely frowned upon, as much as any monarchist leanings would be, which Balti most certainly doesn't have.
Francina and chums have been asking (pleading) that when it comes to the moment for Balti to speak, he shows "restraint". They are more than slightly concerned about what he might come out with. This being just one of the reasons why they would have much preferred someone else to replace Xe-Lo Huertas. Will Balti take the opportunity to declare war on the Bourbons or some such?
Balti's elevation to the throne was assisted last week by a surprise guest appearance of none other than our good friend Alberto Rodríguez Rodríguez, aka Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the rasta Podemos Congress deputy from Tenerife. One had wondered when the two of them might team up, and prayers that they would do were fulfilled. Natty met Balti and there was a selfie (also containing the clean-cut Alberto Jarabo) in which Natty was sticking his tongue out. As you do.
While in the Babylon that is Palma, Natty was asked whether "a long hair" (Balti) and a rasta mark a change in political aesthetics. Appearance is not important, actions are, he explained. It's better that there is a speaker with long hair than one who looks to favour friends, he added. And one knew precisely to whom he was referring - Xe-Lo.
The former speaker was having her day in court. Not that she was in the dock, but rather she was making her case to be readmitted to Podemos. Among other justifications presented by her lawyer was the fact that she had her right to equality denied by being discriminated against in favour of Balti. This was because Balti had supposedly also supported the cause of Daniel Bachiller. It was the funding of his research laboratory which kicked off the whole Podemos crisis. The Podemos lawyer said the situation with Balti was different, so that was all right then.
While many of the Podemos citizenry is away in Madrid or poised over the participation online voting button in deciding the fate of Pablo and The Infant Errejón, some of it has stayed at home in order to prepare for Tuesday's Great Show. Yes, Francina, the show must go on, and you're partly to blame (or to be thanked). Even if you don't understand a word of what's being said, I'd recommend a revision of normal daytime television viewing habits and tune into Tuesday's parliamentary session, during which Balti will ascend to the presidential (speaker's) throne.
It would be nice to think that this ritual could be performed with Balti clad in pure white robes and with angelic Jarabos and Camargos fluttering above him before anointing him with an artisan-crafted halo. "Truly he is the Son of Pablo," the angels would chant. Alas, this will not be. Balti, we can anticipate, will be sporting a checked sort of lumberjack affair and dodgy jeans. Besides which, any even vaguely religious connotation would be severely frowned upon, as much as any monarchist leanings would be, which Balti most certainly doesn't have.
Francina and chums have been asking (pleading) that when it comes to the moment for Balti to speak, he shows "restraint". They are more than slightly concerned about what he might come out with. This being just one of the reasons why they would have much preferred someone else to replace Xe-Lo Huertas. Will Balti take the opportunity to declare war on the Bourbons or some such?
Balti's elevation to the throne was assisted last week by a surprise guest appearance of none other than our good friend Alberto Rodríguez Rodríguez, aka Natty Dreadlock In A Babylon, the rasta Podemos Congress deputy from Tenerife. One had wondered when the two of them might team up, and prayers that they would do were fulfilled. Natty met Balti and there was a selfie (also containing the clean-cut Alberto Jarabo) in which Natty was sticking his tongue out. As you do.
While in the Babylon that is Palma, Natty was asked whether "a long hair" (Balti) and a rasta mark a change in political aesthetics. Appearance is not important, actions are, he explained. It's better that there is a speaker with long hair than one who looks to favour friends, he added. And one knew precisely to whom he was referring - Xe-Lo.
The former speaker was having her day in court. Not that she was in the dock, but rather she was making her case to be readmitted to Podemos. Among other justifications presented by her lawyer was the fact that she had her right to equality denied by being discriminated against in favour of Balti. This was because Balti had supposedly also supported the cause of Daniel Bachiller. It was the funding of his research laboratory which kicked off the whole Podemos crisis. The Podemos lawyer said the situation with Balti was different, so that was all right then.
Thursday, February 09, 2017
Balti Eats Balti: Mr. Speaker
I have a photo opportunity suggestion for when the new president (speaker) of the Balearic parliament is finally sworn in. He should be whisked off to the nearest curry house, where hopefully they do more than tandoori, in order that the headline can read "Balti eats Balti".
It is just possible that Balti does eat Balti, though his Mallorcan authenticity might possibly preclude this. A hearty dish of organic frito is more likely to be Balti's favoured dish "de jour". Whatever it is, one trusts that it doesn't get stuck in his beard or hair when (if) parliament resumes for the post-lunch session. They have cameras trained on parliament speakers and the speaker, you should take note.
For reasons not entirely clear other than to procrastinate ever longer, Baltasar Picornell will not be sworn in as the new speaker of parliament until next week. It's all a bit like Joe Root taking over as England captain from Alastair Cook. Everyone knows this is going to happen, but process needs to be gone through, which is rather more necessary for electing a parliament speaker than it is an England cricket captain. (Though the social media obsessives would beg to differ; the ones who still hold a candle for Kevin Pietersen and for whom due process was not observed with Cook. The obsessives maintain that Cook sold KP out in order to keep his job.)
Apart from fairly obvious differences between Balti and Joe - appearance, sport, that sort of thing - the one major difference in terms of being lined up for promotion is that Balti only recently became the frontrunner. Podemos had insisted that he would be right for the job but their preference was for another woman to replace the excommunicated Xelo Huertas. Unfortunately, the woman they had in mind, Marta Maicas, has found herself needing to do some explaining to a court in respect of allegations that the digital signature of Montse Seijas was forged - Seijas being the other Podemos deputy to have been terminated. Consequently, it was becoming clear a month ago - because Podemos were saying so - that Balti was "gaining points" in the speaker bid.
But despite assuming pole position, Balti's elevation was far from secure. That was because the Podemos partners in the "agreements for change" - PSOE and Més - didn't want anything to do with him being speaker. They still don't, but their hands have been forced by the Podemos threat to break the agreements and therefore cease to be a "partner".
Having gone through the turmoil of the institutional crisis created by the Huertas affair, the two other partners were insisting that her replacement needed to be able to guarantee stability. In fact, there are still rumblings of this nature, but Balti is being foisted upon them and on parliament because Podemos were never going to give up the parliamentary presidency: it remains for now their most significant position in regional administrations anywhere in Spain.
Why might they be so concerned that Balti will not ensure stability? To answer this, one has to consider Huertas and how she was as speaker. The history books are rapidly being revised, but she was generally felt to have made a decent fist of the job. It is one that does require being evenhanded and also a certain amount of dignity. She may have lost this because of the affair, but even when she was meeting the King and insisting that he spend the money for the official reception on soup kitchens, she didn't come across as being extreme.
This, really, is part of the issue with Balti. Not that he has hippy hair and beard, not that he was a mere metalworker (or whatever it was), but rather that he comes from a background that is strident even by Podemos terms. His membership of the union for the Third Republic and the Balearic civic unit for a Republic should make his meeting with the King something to look forward to, assuming he doesn't boycott it.
Being a Republican, though, hardly sets him out as unusual among Podemos ranks. There has to be something a bit more to the reluctance of PSOE and Més to have not wished to sanction his election. And it may just boil down to the very simple belief that they don't think he's up to the job. Fina Santiago, who is the Més minister for social services, was outraged by the idea that he was being opposed because of his work background. She explained that she believed that there were individuals within Podemos who were better qualified, better suited. She also found it odd that Podemos were backtracking on their aim for the speaker to be a woman.
Such a principle went by the board. Laura Camargo ruled herself out, Maicas was being quizzed by a judge, so there was no other option than a man. Balti it was and Balti it is, unless by some bizarre twist of politicking, the PP's candidate Nuria Riera is elected. Were she to be, then the government's pact would be well and truly busted.
It is just possible that Balti does eat Balti, though his Mallorcan authenticity might possibly preclude this. A hearty dish of organic frito is more likely to be Balti's favoured dish "de jour". Whatever it is, one trusts that it doesn't get stuck in his beard or hair when (if) parliament resumes for the post-lunch session. They have cameras trained on parliament speakers and the speaker, you should take note.
For reasons not entirely clear other than to procrastinate ever longer, Baltasar Picornell will not be sworn in as the new speaker of parliament until next week. It's all a bit like Joe Root taking over as England captain from Alastair Cook. Everyone knows this is going to happen, but process needs to be gone through, which is rather more necessary for electing a parliament speaker than it is an England cricket captain. (Though the social media obsessives would beg to differ; the ones who still hold a candle for Kevin Pietersen and for whom due process was not observed with Cook. The obsessives maintain that Cook sold KP out in order to keep his job.)
Apart from fairly obvious differences between Balti and Joe - appearance, sport, that sort of thing - the one major difference in terms of being lined up for promotion is that Balti only recently became the frontrunner. Podemos had insisted that he would be right for the job but their preference was for another woman to replace the excommunicated Xelo Huertas. Unfortunately, the woman they had in mind, Marta Maicas, has found herself needing to do some explaining to a court in respect of allegations that the digital signature of Montse Seijas was forged - Seijas being the other Podemos deputy to have been terminated. Consequently, it was becoming clear a month ago - because Podemos were saying so - that Balti was "gaining points" in the speaker bid.
But despite assuming pole position, Balti's elevation was far from secure. That was because the Podemos partners in the "agreements for change" - PSOE and Més - didn't want anything to do with him being speaker. They still don't, but their hands have been forced by the Podemos threat to break the agreements and therefore cease to be a "partner".
Having gone through the turmoil of the institutional crisis created by the Huertas affair, the two other partners were insisting that her replacement needed to be able to guarantee stability. In fact, there are still rumblings of this nature, but Balti is being foisted upon them and on parliament because Podemos were never going to give up the parliamentary presidency: it remains for now their most significant position in regional administrations anywhere in Spain.
Why might they be so concerned that Balti will not ensure stability? To answer this, one has to consider Huertas and how she was as speaker. The history books are rapidly being revised, but she was generally felt to have made a decent fist of the job. It is one that does require being evenhanded and also a certain amount of dignity. She may have lost this because of the affair, but even when she was meeting the King and insisting that he spend the money for the official reception on soup kitchens, she didn't come across as being extreme.
This, really, is part of the issue with Balti. Not that he has hippy hair and beard, not that he was a mere metalworker (or whatever it was), but rather that he comes from a background that is strident even by Podemos terms. His membership of the union for the Third Republic and the Balearic civic unit for a Republic should make his meeting with the King something to look forward to, assuming he doesn't boycott it.
Being a Republican, though, hardly sets him out as unusual among Podemos ranks. There has to be something a bit more to the reluctance of PSOE and Més to have not wished to sanction his election. And it may just boil down to the very simple belief that they don't think he's up to the job. Fina Santiago, who is the Més minister for social services, was outraged by the idea that he was being opposed because of his work background. She explained that she believed that there were individuals within Podemos who were better qualified, better suited. She also found it odd that Podemos were backtracking on their aim for the speaker to be a woman.
Such a principle went by the board. Laura Camargo ruled herself out, Maicas was being quizzed by a judge, so there was no other option than a man. Balti it was and Balti it is, unless by some bizarre twist of politicking, the PP's candidate Nuria Riera is elected. Were she to be, then the government's pact would be well and truly busted.
Sunday, February 05, 2017
The Playground Of The Balearic Parliament
It doesn't get much better, does it. Aspiring parliamentary headmaster, Vicenç Thomas, took the throne that he covets, if only temporarily, and started to read the register. "Huertas?" "Seijas?" "Has anyone seen Huertas or Seijas?" "They're behind Més," blurted Jarabo. "Huertas, Seijas, why are you behind Més?" "We are of the left," they responded as one. "You may well be, but you were told to go and sit on the naughty chairs behind the PP. So I ask again - why are you behind Més?" "This deputy's going nowhere," insisted Seijas. "Look, I shall ask you only once more to go and sit behind the PP. If you don't, then I'll call security and they will physically move you." "It'll take a small army of security to do that," scoffed Jarabo. "Please, Jarabo, I expect better from you. There will be no weightist or fattist jokes in this chamber. Huertas, Seijas, why are you still there?"
And with that Xe-Lo and Montse arose and plodded off to the one and nines of the public gallery. Rarely, if ever, have the public been privileged to have a former speaker and friend come among them. And the public gallery is to where they will return until such a time as they are granted their wish to be among Mésites, if only in the rear. When might this be? Hell will probably have frozen over or perhaps the arrival of a new headmaster (not Vicenç) will enable a more conciliatory approach. This is unlikely, though, if Jarabo gets his way. Balti is the only man (or woman) for the job, it now seems. And if the Mésites and PSOE turn him down, then Jarabo and Podemos will break the pact. So there. Yah-boo!
They don't want Balti because he's a metalworker, insisted Jarabo. Which isn't strictly accurate as he's a full-time parliamentary deputy. He once was, though. But this isn't of course the reason why PSOEMés don't want him. It's pretty obvious why not. He looks like the one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band. That's why. Get a haircut, Balti, and you'll be ushered in no problem.
Once the Xe-Lo/Montse panto was dispensed with, it was the turn of the PP to put on a display. As one they stood up and marched out of the chamber. Normally, in Congress anyway, it's Podemos who are the ones for the walking in response to jibes (typically of a Venezuelan nature) being launched from the PP. The insults were on the other foot (or mouth) in parliament.
Jarabo described a "mafioso relationship" between the PP and Palma police. Illegal trafficking in and possession of weapons, obstruction of justice, trafficking influence, malfeasance, coercion, bribery, threats, extortion, falsehood, insider dealing, crimes against public health, offences against the environment. And there, among the PP ranks, was the alleged "boss" of this network - Alvaro Gijón. Off marched the PP, two of them returning only for formality's sake, while there were heated discussions to a) get them all to go back and b) get Jarabo to apologise, which he didn't.
Vicenç, if he had seriously felt that the parliamentary presidential malarkey was worth it, would have been having second thoughts. Best let Balti handle things in future, Vicenç. Things can only get more ridiculous.
And with that Xe-Lo and Montse arose and plodded off to the one and nines of the public gallery. Rarely, if ever, have the public been privileged to have a former speaker and friend come among them. And the public gallery is to where they will return until such a time as they are granted their wish to be among Mésites, if only in the rear. When might this be? Hell will probably have frozen over or perhaps the arrival of a new headmaster (not Vicenç) will enable a more conciliatory approach. This is unlikely, though, if Jarabo gets his way. Balti is the only man (or woman) for the job, it now seems. And if the Mésites and PSOE turn him down, then Jarabo and Podemos will break the pact. So there. Yah-boo!
They don't want Balti because he's a metalworker, insisted Jarabo. Which isn't strictly accurate as he's a full-time parliamentary deputy. He once was, though. But this isn't of course the reason why PSOEMés don't want him. It's pretty obvious why not. He looks like the one-time bass guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band. That's why. Get a haircut, Balti, and you'll be ushered in no problem.
Once the Xe-Lo/Montse panto was dispensed with, it was the turn of the PP to put on a display. As one they stood up and marched out of the chamber. Normally, in Congress anyway, it's Podemos who are the ones for the walking in response to jibes (typically of a Venezuelan nature) being launched from the PP. The insults were on the other foot (or mouth) in parliament.
Jarabo described a "mafioso relationship" between the PP and Palma police. Illegal trafficking in and possession of weapons, obstruction of justice, trafficking influence, malfeasance, coercion, bribery, threats, extortion, falsehood, insider dealing, crimes against public health, offences against the environment. And there, among the PP ranks, was the alleged "boss" of this network - Alvaro Gijón. Off marched the PP, two of them returning only for formality's sake, while there were heated discussions to a) get them all to go back and b) get Jarabo to apologise, which he didn't.
Vicenç, if he had seriously felt that the parliamentary presidential malarkey was worth it, would have been having second thoughts. Best let Balti handle things in future, Vicenç. Things can only get more ridiculous.
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