Early yesterday morning, local police, later assisted by National Police, clashed with some 100 illegal street-sellers (looky-looky men) in Playa de Palma, following the arrest of one their number after he had tried to assault a police officer. By the time that the National Police turned up, however, the lookies had dispersed. A comment in this report by a German tourist does perhaps sum up what goes on with incidents such as this: "They are laughing at the police but they (the police) do nothing. In Germany they would all be arrested". Which is doubtless the case, but a problem the police in Mallorca have is that, even if they arrest the illegal street-sellers, there is little they can do with them. If an assault occurs, this is one thing, but for infractions such as illegal selling, detentions only mean clogging up cells and being unable to extract fines.
See more: Ultima Hora
Showing posts with label Looky-looky men. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Looky-looky men. Show all posts
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
George On The Beach: Looky-looky
George is his name. The name he gives himself at any rate. George doesn't really have a name because he doesn't exist. Officially. "Where are you from?" He waves with a surprisingly limp wrist in a direction along the beach. Somewhere over there. "No, not where are you from here. Which country?" George smiles. No, smile is the wrong word. He beams. He does a lot of beaming. You wonder what it is that he has to beam about.
I hazard a guess. "Senegal?" He laughs. No, laugh is not right. He splutters. "Ghana?" Now he splutters and thwacks an ochre palm lined with crevices of deeper brown on to a jeans-covered thigh. He's not telling, is he. Or it's a game. It doesn't matter.
He must get hot. It can't be easy walking up and down, up and down, up and down in the soft and deep sand. In the heat. With long trousers on and a bag over his shoulder. Keeps him fit, he says, and splutters through teeth clenched not because he's fighting off annoyance or anger but because his laughter is his defence.
For now, he's resting. It doesn't appear to bother him that the seat of his jeans will get covered by sand. He rocks from side to side as though there were a song in his head. "Manchester United?" he asks. Paul pulls a quizzical face. "He's a German boy." Momentarily, George appears baffled. You can see he's thinking. Then his eyes light up. "Bayern Munich." And he splutters all over again. The boy is the one who now beams, and George offers a high-five, which is happily reciprocated.
He is sitting in the sand because he is waiting. He hasn't been invited but nor is he asked to move on. He has business. Should the boy have been discouraged? He wanted the sunglasses though. And George is likable. Money has to be collected, as none had been brought to the beach. He doesn't mind waiting. He has all the time in the world. Plenty of time to rest from his endless trudging.
A different George ambles past, sand being gently kicked up by his flip-flops. The two Georges exchange languid nods of the head and indeterminate noises from somewhere deep in their throats. "A friend?" I ask. More spluttering.
I start to think that this laughing isn't because he can't speak English (or Spanish), as he can, but because he doesn't want to give any information. How often does he get asked questions by greater authorities than a group he has encountered on the beach? I would like to know, but it would get me nowhere. When he waved along the sand, where was he waving towards? What was he waving towards? Some pokey flat that he shares with four or five others? Towards or around Bellevue, I'd guess, though I could be wrong.
Heike's returned with her purse. George takes the note (notes) apologetically but graciously. He beams but doesn't splutter. Paul screws his eyes up behind his new sunglasses, sticks his chin out and moves his head towards and away from the direction of the sun. Now George does splutter. "Hey, cool," he says. "Cool," echoes Paul in the way that Germans of any age do, "Koo-ull".
George slopes off, loafing and shuffling in the sand, his bag over his shoulder. What does he have in the bag? More sunglasses? T-shirts? Something else? I doubt it. Not on the beach. Not during the day. He moves away but turns, waves and beams. He's happy, but how can he be happy?
What had George thought that he was going to find when he came from the country he won't admit to? A better life? Had he really thought that? What had he given up in wherever he was in exchange for traipsing along a Mallorcan beach, selling fake goods to tourists with wealth of which he could only dream? How had he got to Spain, to Mallorca? What dangers had he endured on a sea journey from Africa in order to be able to stop by a bunch of beachgoers and, in an almost childlike manner, enthral a child with his pirated wares?
What is it like to be George? To not see his family for years. To post by Western Union what he can for their upkeep. To not be at the margins of Mallorcan society but to not even be a part of it. To know that even if he becomes very poorly he would probably be refused treatment. What does George think of?
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
I hazard a guess. "Senegal?" He laughs. No, laugh is not right. He splutters. "Ghana?" Now he splutters and thwacks an ochre palm lined with crevices of deeper brown on to a jeans-covered thigh. He's not telling, is he. Or it's a game. It doesn't matter.
He must get hot. It can't be easy walking up and down, up and down, up and down in the soft and deep sand. In the heat. With long trousers on and a bag over his shoulder. Keeps him fit, he says, and splutters through teeth clenched not because he's fighting off annoyance or anger but because his laughter is his defence.
For now, he's resting. It doesn't appear to bother him that the seat of his jeans will get covered by sand. He rocks from side to side as though there were a song in his head. "Manchester United?" he asks. Paul pulls a quizzical face. "He's a German boy." Momentarily, George appears baffled. You can see he's thinking. Then his eyes light up. "Bayern Munich." And he splutters all over again. The boy is the one who now beams, and George offers a high-five, which is happily reciprocated.
He is sitting in the sand because he is waiting. He hasn't been invited but nor is he asked to move on. He has business. Should the boy have been discouraged? He wanted the sunglasses though. And George is likable. Money has to be collected, as none had been brought to the beach. He doesn't mind waiting. He has all the time in the world. Plenty of time to rest from his endless trudging.
A different George ambles past, sand being gently kicked up by his flip-flops. The two Georges exchange languid nods of the head and indeterminate noises from somewhere deep in their throats. "A friend?" I ask. More spluttering.
I start to think that this laughing isn't because he can't speak English (or Spanish), as he can, but because he doesn't want to give any information. How often does he get asked questions by greater authorities than a group he has encountered on the beach? I would like to know, but it would get me nowhere. When he waved along the sand, where was he waving towards? What was he waving towards? Some pokey flat that he shares with four or five others? Towards or around Bellevue, I'd guess, though I could be wrong.
Heike's returned with her purse. George takes the note (notes) apologetically but graciously. He beams but doesn't splutter. Paul screws his eyes up behind his new sunglasses, sticks his chin out and moves his head towards and away from the direction of the sun. Now George does splutter. "Hey, cool," he says. "Cool," echoes Paul in the way that Germans of any age do, "Koo-ull".
George slopes off, loafing and shuffling in the sand, his bag over his shoulder. What does he have in the bag? More sunglasses? T-shirts? Something else? I doubt it. Not on the beach. Not during the day. He moves away but turns, waves and beams. He's happy, but how can he be happy?
What had George thought that he was going to find when he came from the country he won't admit to? A better life? Had he really thought that? What had he given up in wherever he was in exchange for traipsing along a Mallorcan beach, selling fake goods to tourists with wealth of which he could only dream? How had he got to Spain, to Mallorca? What dangers had he endured on a sea journey from Africa in order to be able to stop by a bunch of beachgoers and, in an almost childlike manner, enthral a child with his pirated wares?
What is it like to be George? To not see his family for years. To post by Western Union what he can for their upkeep. To not be at the margins of Mallorcan society but to not even be a part of it. To know that even if he becomes very poorly he would probably be refused treatment. What does George think of?
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Tuesday, May 07, 2013
Years Of Doing Nothing: Trouble in Magalluf
Something that was conveniently ignored when there was all the absurd ballyhoo regarding the BBC's "Truth About Magalluf" documentary was the fact that it is not only the British media which takes an interest in the seamier side of Mallorcan tourism. Germany's is pretty keen to as well. And so is the Spanish, which includes, therefore, Mallorcan.
The attitude towards Magalluf among Mallorcans is far from positive. I don't recall a Mallorcan ever having had a good word to say about the place. There must be some, maybe those who make a living from Magalluf's tourism, but the resort's name has been dragged through as much local mud as it has foreign mud.
For the Mallorcan, Magalluf is drunkenness and hooliganism, and primarily British drunkenness and hooliganism. The average Mallorcan may never have even been to Magalluf because, rather like pompous Brits who manage to pontificate about Magalluf despite never having set foot in the place, they have no desire to be confronted by lagered-up, tattoo-ed-up moronism. This average Mallorcan can express his or her displeasure, despite being in close proximity to similar moronism elsewhere. And it's not just moronism. There are all those tacky bars in Magalluf, aren't there, of which of course there are no examples anywhere else in Mallorca.
Fair do's, Magalluf is extreme in that its excesses are worse than other resorts. This much is undeniable, but its extremism and its excesses are partly the consequence of a laxity that exists all over Mallorca, one that has, for years, permitted or turned a blind eye to poor behaviour, drunkenness, prostitution and illegal street-selling. Magalluf is the repugnant tip of a not always pleasant iceberg. A key reason for it having become this tip is that there will always be specific locations in which there is a concentration of the less than pleasant. It just so happens that Magalluf is Mallorca's.
The season barely underway, and there are already reports concerning the resort's prostitutes. One has been arrested for attacking attacking two British tourists, striking one on the back with a beer bottle, and stealing their mobiles. Everyone knows that these prostitutes are not on the game but are mobile mobile-robbers and robbers of anything else they can lay their hands on. Calvià town hall has made much of its intention to get to grips with the problem this summer, and maybe it will. But it is a problem that has arisen through a build-up over several years of what was initially just roguish petty criminality (that of the looky-looky men with their fake gear) into something rather more serious.
Magalluf bears the brunt of this more serious crime because of what it is. Clean it up, though, and will the problem go away or will it just go elsewhere? Things have a habit of doing so. Take scratch card, time-share touts. They were driven out and so turned up in Puerto Alcúdia, and it took a few years for them to be moved on; the particularly aggressive ones, that is.
The police, far from being idle or far from deserving criticism for being inactive, have a devil's own job. As do town halls. Street criminals can be picked up, they can be slung in a cell, but then what? They rarely have means to pay fines. They often have no fixed abodes. What do the police do with them? They could denounce them, haul them up in front of a judge, ask for a prison term, but they would end up costing money. They could request their deportation, but how long would that procedure take? How much would it cost? No, the police deserve an awful lot of sympathy.
Where there can be criticism for inaction dates back many years. It was a failure way back when to come to terms with the relatively minor street-selling infractions of the lookies which has now spiralled up to what can occur in Magalluf. This failure was not only one of officialdom, it was one also of tourists, who played along with the looky game, and of residents, among whom were and are Mallorcans, who would happily buy fake goods and still do buy them.
Magalluf is, therefore, a localised culmination of historical blind-eyeing. And because it's Magalluf and because also of the BBC ballyhoo, the Spanish media are even more on the case. Another report just into the season speaks of the "hooligans" having returned. It also speaks of counting 25 street-sellers (lookies, in other words) and 15 Asian massage girls. Shocking? Of course not. You can go to somewhere genteel like Puerto Pollensa and you would be able to count similar numbers were you to hang around long enough. And the reason why is because nothing was done years ago.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
The attitude towards Magalluf among Mallorcans is far from positive. I don't recall a Mallorcan ever having had a good word to say about the place. There must be some, maybe those who make a living from Magalluf's tourism, but the resort's name has been dragged through as much local mud as it has foreign mud.
For the Mallorcan, Magalluf is drunkenness and hooliganism, and primarily British drunkenness and hooliganism. The average Mallorcan may never have even been to Magalluf because, rather like pompous Brits who manage to pontificate about Magalluf despite never having set foot in the place, they have no desire to be confronted by lagered-up, tattoo-ed-up moronism. This average Mallorcan can express his or her displeasure, despite being in close proximity to similar moronism elsewhere. And it's not just moronism. There are all those tacky bars in Magalluf, aren't there, of which of course there are no examples anywhere else in Mallorca.
Fair do's, Magalluf is extreme in that its excesses are worse than other resorts. This much is undeniable, but its extremism and its excesses are partly the consequence of a laxity that exists all over Mallorca, one that has, for years, permitted or turned a blind eye to poor behaviour, drunkenness, prostitution and illegal street-selling. Magalluf is the repugnant tip of a not always pleasant iceberg. A key reason for it having become this tip is that there will always be specific locations in which there is a concentration of the less than pleasant. It just so happens that Magalluf is Mallorca's.
The season barely underway, and there are already reports concerning the resort's prostitutes. One has been arrested for attacking attacking two British tourists, striking one on the back with a beer bottle, and stealing their mobiles. Everyone knows that these prostitutes are not on the game but are mobile mobile-robbers and robbers of anything else they can lay their hands on. Calvià town hall has made much of its intention to get to grips with the problem this summer, and maybe it will. But it is a problem that has arisen through a build-up over several years of what was initially just roguish petty criminality (that of the looky-looky men with their fake gear) into something rather more serious.
Magalluf bears the brunt of this more serious crime because of what it is. Clean it up, though, and will the problem go away or will it just go elsewhere? Things have a habit of doing so. Take scratch card, time-share touts. They were driven out and so turned up in Puerto Alcúdia, and it took a few years for them to be moved on; the particularly aggressive ones, that is.
The police, far from being idle or far from deserving criticism for being inactive, have a devil's own job. As do town halls. Street criminals can be picked up, they can be slung in a cell, but then what? They rarely have means to pay fines. They often have no fixed abodes. What do the police do with them? They could denounce them, haul them up in front of a judge, ask for a prison term, but they would end up costing money. They could request their deportation, but how long would that procedure take? How much would it cost? No, the police deserve an awful lot of sympathy.
Where there can be criticism for inaction dates back many years. It was a failure way back when to come to terms with the relatively minor street-selling infractions of the lookies which has now spiralled up to what can occur in Magalluf. This failure was not only one of officialdom, it was one also of tourists, who played along with the looky game, and of residents, among whom were and are Mallorcans, who would happily buy fake goods and still do buy them.
Magalluf is, therefore, a localised culmination of historical blind-eyeing. And because it's Magalluf and because also of the BBC ballyhoo, the Spanish media are even more on the case. Another report just into the season speaks of the "hooligans" having returned. It also speaks of counting 25 street-sellers (lookies, in other words) and 15 Asian massage girls. Shocking? Of course not. You can go to somewhere genteel like Puerto Pollensa and you would be able to count similar numbers were you to hang around long enough. And the reason why is because nothing was done years ago.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Monday, February 27, 2012
MALLORCA TODAY - Palma police get tough with looky-looky men
Three men have been detained in an operation by Palma local police against the street selling of counterfeit goods in the central district of the city. Some 800 or so fake CDs and DVDs have been confiscated along with other pirated items.
While the police have been praised for this action, they will know how difficult it is to stamp this illegal trade out, and not just that of the street-selling lookies.
While the police have been praised for this action, they will know how difficult it is to stamp this illegal trade out, and not just that of the street-selling lookies.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Annual They Should Be So Lucky
The Calvia police conducted an operation against "vendedores ambulantes" a couple of nights ago. These vendedores are, of course, better known as "looky-looky" or "lucky-lucky" men. According to a report in "Ultima Hora", the number of luckies heading for Magaluf of an evening has recently increased, as has the number of complaints. Cue plod.
The luckies are a part of the local scene, in whatever resort. Mostly they are harmless, but like anyone who does some street "selling" - and these can include legitimate PRs where they are permitted outside their own establishments and the scratch-card wretches - they can be a damn nuisance. Apart from the fact that they are selling shit (and sometimes they are selling a type of shit that comes in small wrapped packages), the biggest beef with them concerns the fact that they take away business from shops or others and pay not a cent of tax or social security. None are legal.
That the police in the different resorts often turn a blind eye to them has to do with the sheer numbers, lack of police resources and the fact that even if they get hauled in there isn't much that can be done with them. The police in Magaluf let all of its 41 catch of luckies go, save for one who'd got stroppy. As was once pointed out by an Alcúdia policeman, take one lucky in and another will replace him. There is a production line that never seems to run out of resources.
By coincidence, "The Diario" had a report on different types of vendedores in Playa de Palma on Sunday. To the luckies can be added the beach vendors selling if not necessarily shit, then highly overpriced fruit or drinks. As one shopowner pointed out, they go to a shop, buy some cans and then go and flog them at four or five times the proper price. Another example of the tourist being ripped-off. Doubly if the shop was already charging over the odds.
The simple solution would lie with tourists not encouraging any of the street sellers by not buying their wares or not being hauled off for a hard-sell pitch for holidays they don't want or need. The latter can be more difficult to shake off as there are more silver tongues, ones that speak the language well. The luckies can be fobbed off, and many do fob them off. But many do not. Kids are especially susceptible, and so therefore are their parents, because the kids often find the luckies funny and enjoy the game of bartering.
But should we really be so sanctimonious? Who has never bought some shit from a lucky or another seller? Who has never bought a dodgy CD or DVD? There are some, including bar-owners, who are good customers for the luckies and for those who don't bother with luckies and sell direct their packaged, pirated DVDs by the hold-all load.
The luckies and their nuisance and illegal value are an annual theme. Every year's the same. Despite the efforts of the police, and the Magaluf operation will probably prove to be isolated, and despite local laws that make it illegal to not only sell but also buy hooky gear (as is the case in Alcúdia), the luckies are not going away. Like the poor, they will always be with us. And there will be some who, strange to report, will be quite happy that they are.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
The luckies are a part of the local scene, in whatever resort. Mostly they are harmless, but like anyone who does some street "selling" - and these can include legitimate PRs where they are permitted outside their own establishments and the scratch-card wretches - they can be a damn nuisance. Apart from the fact that they are selling shit (and sometimes they are selling a type of shit that comes in small wrapped packages), the biggest beef with them concerns the fact that they take away business from shops or others and pay not a cent of tax or social security. None are legal.
That the police in the different resorts often turn a blind eye to them has to do with the sheer numbers, lack of police resources and the fact that even if they get hauled in there isn't much that can be done with them. The police in Magaluf let all of its 41 catch of luckies go, save for one who'd got stroppy. As was once pointed out by an Alcúdia policeman, take one lucky in and another will replace him. There is a production line that never seems to run out of resources.
By coincidence, "The Diario" had a report on different types of vendedores in Playa de Palma on Sunday. To the luckies can be added the beach vendors selling if not necessarily shit, then highly overpriced fruit or drinks. As one shopowner pointed out, they go to a shop, buy some cans and then go and flog them at four or five times the proper price. Another example of the tourist being ripped-off. Doubly if the shop was already charging over the odds.
The simple solution would lie with tourists not encouraging any of the street sellers by not buying their wares or not being hauled off for a hard-sell pitch for holidays they don't want or need. The latter can be more difficult to shake off as there are more silver tongues, ones that speak the language well. The luckies can be fobbed off, and many do fob them off. But many do not. Kids are especially susceptible, and so therefore are their parents, because the kids often find the luckies funny and enjoy the game of bartering.
But should we really be so sanctimonious? Who has never bought some shit from a lucky or another seller? Who has never bought a dodgy CD or DVD? There are some, including bar-owners, who are good customers for the luckies and for those who don't bother with luckies and sell direct their packaged, pirated DVDs by the hold-all load.
The luckies and their nuisance and illegal value are an annual theme. Every year's the same. Despite the efforts of the police, and the Magaluf operation will probably prove to be isolated, and despite local laws that make it illegal to not only sell but also buy hooky gear (as is the case in Alcúdia), the luckies are not going away. Like the poor, they will always be with us. And there will be some who, strange to report, will be quite happy that they are.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Size Of A Cow: The early-season German tourist
Ah yes, spring. It seems so long. Warmth, that is. The snow and cold have been consigned to the dustbin of the wettest Mallorcan winter since the UK had one of its most severe winters - 1947. The birds are singing, all the other normal twaddle that gets waxed cliché-lyrically at this time of the year is twaddling, and the armies of the north are engaging in early-season Lebensraum. All of a sudden, great hordes have emerged, commandeering the space that is the local Eroski supermarket. These are not, or don't appear to be, the cycling Saxons; they're wearing normal clothes and when they walk they don't make a noise like comedy horses with coconut shells. But they are noisy, gutturally so, and vast. At what point in recent history did the Germans transmogrify into human high-rises? (And the same might be asked of the Dutch of whom there are also any number.)
Concentrate an invasion force into a confined area, e.g. a supermarket, and one is all but overwhelmed not just by its unexpected appearance but also by its sheer size, or rather their size - individually. The Germans, and the Dutch, are bipedal skyscrapers. Even the pre-secondary school ones could pass as England fast bowlers - of the Finn and Harmison variety, as opposed to rotund shortasses like Gough. Hovering high above the typically diminutive Mallorcans, they hoover up a month's shelf-life of sausage stock in a matter of minutes. Well they'd need to in order to fuel such giantism: the German economy runs not on engineering but on meat consumption. Which is all rather good news, so one would think, for the hard-pressed Mallorcan restaurant sector. Unhindered by the negative impact of a depressed currency rate, the Germans can seamlessly swap a ton of schnitzel in Stuttgart for the size of a cow in an Alcúdia or Muro eating-house.
Well you might think this would be the case, but there are those who would beg to differ. Tourists, or tourist nationalities to be more precise, are often defined according to how extravagantly or not they hand over hard cash in exchange for some marinaded and charcoal-grilled Porky or Ermentrude. For reasons that have long escaped me, the Germans are often viewed as bad spenders. It does, however, depend on what is being sold.
Which brings me to another tribe that has suddenly become quite evident. It would be falling into the stereotyping trap to assume that all the newly arrived Africans are "lookies" (aka "luckies"), but this might not be an unfair assumption. Like tour reps gather pre-season for what is comically referred to as "training" in venues such as Alcúdia's auditorium, so the lookies convene for their own learning experience - motivational speeches, sales techniques demonstrated with the aid of some ancient John Cleese Video Arts training videos (pirated of course), and so on. Or maybe they are programmed with some bird-like homing instinct to simply flock in a week or so prior to Easter. But some training aid might not go amiss. Approach a German woman at a café table and wave in front of her a CD compilation from the Spanish "X-Factor" equivalent is only likely to result in reinforcing the notion that Germans are not big spenders. It should all be about target marketing. The lookies should invest - or rather not invest, as I'm sure you see what I mean - in some Roger Whittaker downloads and they would be euros-in with a German market that has an unfathomable penchant for the weird-bearded-one's warbles. Possibly.
Ah yes, warbles. Warblers. Birds singing. Spring is here. And so are the first German tourists and illegal street-sellers of the phoney season. It's starting again.
QUIZ:
Yesterday: The Box Tops, "The Letter". The singer with the group, Alex Chilton, died three days ago. Today: which group sized up a cow?
Alex Chilton - RIP:
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Concentrate an invasion force into a confined area, e.g. a supermarket, and one is all but overwhelmed not just by its unexpected appearance but also by its sheer size, or rather their size - individually. The Germans, and the Dutch, are bipedal skyscrapers. Even the pre-secondary school ones could pass as England fast bowlers - of the Finn and Harmison variety, as opposed to rotund shortasses like Gough. Hovering high above the typically diminutive Mallorcans, they hoover up a month's shelf-life of sausage stock in a matter of minutes. Well they'd need to in order to fuel such giantism: the German economy runs not on engineering but on meat consumption. Which is all rather good news, so one would think, for the hard-pressed Mallorcan restaurant sector. Unhindered by the negative impact of a depressed currency rate, the Germans can seamlessly swap a ton of schnitzel in Stuttgart for the size of a cow in an Alcúdia or Muro eating-house.
Well you might think this would be the case, but there are those who would beg to differ. Tourists, or tourist nationalities to be more precise, are often defined according to how extravagantly or not they hand over hard cash in exchange for some marinaded and charcoal-grilled Porky or Ermentrude. For reasons that have long escaped me, the Germans are often viewed as bad spenders. It does, however, depend on what is being sold.
Which brings me to another tribe that has suddenly become quite evident. It would be falling into the stereotyping trap to assume that all the newly arrived Africans are "lookies" (aka "luckies"), but this might not be an unfair assumption. Like tour reps gather pre-season for what is comically referred to as "training" in venues such as Alcúdia's auditorium, so the lookies convene for their own learning experience - motivational speeches, sales techniques demonstrated with the aid of some ancient John Cleese Video Arts training videos (pirated of course), and so on. Or maybe they are programmed with some bird-like homing instinct to simply flock in a week or so prior to Easter. But some training aid might not go amiss. Approach a German woman at a café table and wave in front of her a CD compilation from the Spanish "X-Factor" equivalent is only likely to result in reinforcing the notion that Germans are not big spenders. It should all be about target marketing. The lookies should invest - or rather not invest, as I'm sure you see what I mean - in some Roger Whittaker downloads and they would be euros-in with a German market that has an unfathomable penchant for the weird-bearded-one's warbles. Possibly.
Ah yes, warbles. Warblers. Birds singing. Spring is here. And so are the first German tourists and illegal street-sellers of the phoney season. It's starting again.
QUIZ:
Yesterday: The Box Tops, "The Letter". The singer with the group, Alex Chilton, died three days ago. Today: which group sized up a cow?
Alex Chilton - RIP:
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Monday, September 07, 2009
Illegal
Alcúdia town hall has started a campaign to raise awareness of the harmful effects of illegal street selling and to instruct as to the consequences of buying stuff from the looky-looky men (and for the most part it is they against whom this campaign is directed).
It may be recalled that Alcúdia passed additional laws a year ago, designed to stamp out street selling. The campaign presumably serves as a reminder of the fines that can be levied not only on those doing the selling but also on bars where it might occur and on those who purchase the DVDs and all the rest. The campaign also suggests that those laws have not had the desired effect, and a wander around The Mile only goes to reinforce that view. Quite why it has taken till September to initiate a poster campaign, who knows.
The ineffectiveness of the laws lies to a large part in the lack of policing and also in what the police can actually do. Take one looky off the streets and another one takes his place. There's a looky factory somewhere, churning out guys and fake Gucci glasses. Fine a looky and look where it gets you. Keep on looking for the looky. So fine the bars instead; bars, many of them, which now want nothing to do with the trade. However, some certainly of the bigger bars would need to employ someone specifically to stop the lookies coming onto terraces. There seem at times that many of them that the bars cannot keep stop serving in order to deal with another illegal seller. So fine the purchasers instead. Yep, and cop a load of bad publicity when some hapless and unaware tourists fork out for a crap watch or some duff Lady Gaga. I've not actually seen any of the posters that form part of this campaign, but the reports say that it goes under the title - "Tots contra la venda il-legal". Catalan. Maybe there should be more effort directed at tourists.
But whatever sort of campaign is instituted, a problem is that the punters don't see this illegal trade as any big deal. For many it is a bit of fun (though there are also tourists who get hacked off with the harassment). For many it is a cheap way of buying CDs and the rest. There was a recent radio report regarding a campaign by trading standards somewhere in England. The reporter spoke to a few of the purchasers. Aware they may have been that the trade was illegal, but it didn't bother them. The amounts being spent were not great - indeed they were low - and there was little concern that some of the products might be of inferior quality and that there was no comeback. What does it matter when what you're spending is so low? Trading standards, and no doubt the Alcúdia authorities also, can point to the losses that are incurred by rights holders because of counterfeiting, but they are of minor consequence to most people - just consider also the level of illegal downloading. Even the money that can be made from the big piracy operations probably don't bother people either. There was another report recently in England about police action that netted the producers of illegal DVDs whose "business" was said to be worth several million pounds.
Fining purchasers might sound like a strong deterrent, but only if people are aware of such fines and are also unwilling to take the risk. It doesn't deter. Some friends who visited Alcúdia earlier this summer were surprised to see what they took to be a bar owner going through a whole bunch of CDs and DVDs and sorting out what he wanted. As ever with illegal trades, and the lookies also deal in contraband of a more serious nature, it is attacking the sources of supply that can limit the trade. However, though successful interventions by the police have indeed been reported in Mallorca, the trade still carries on. It isn't that difficult to replicate, or at least one imagines it isn't.
And then there is the illegal trade that does not rely on the wretched lookies. But let's not go there.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Spirit, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHz9Xag8LCM (the video is of an 80s incarnation of the band and not that good except for Ed Cassidy, the original drummer). Today's title - it featured Carlos Santana.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
It may be recalled that Alcúdia passed additional laws a year ago, designed to stamp out street selling. The campaign presumably serves as a reminder of the fines that can be levied not only on those doing the selling but also on bars where it might occur and on those who purchase the DVDs and all the rest. The campaign also suggests that those laws have not had the desired effect, and a wander around The Mile only goes to reinforce that view. Quite why it has taken till September to initiate a poster campaign, who knows.
The ineffectiveness of the laws lies to a large part in the lack of policing and also in what the police can actually do. Take one looky off the streets and another one takes his place. There's a looky factory somewhere, churning out guys and fake Gucci glasses. Fine a looky and look where it gets you. Keep on looking for the looky. So fine the bars instead; bars, many of them, which now want nothing to do with the trade. However, some certainly of the bigger bars would need to employ someone specifically to stop the lookies coming onto terraces. There seem at times that many of them that the bars cannot keep stop serving in order to deal with another illegal seller. So fine the purchasers instead. Yep, and cop a load of bad publicity when some hapless and unaware tourists fork out for a crap watch or some duff Lady Gaga. I've not actually seen any of the posters that form part of this campaign, but the reports say that it goes under the title - "Tots contra la venda il-legal". Catalan. Maybe there should be more effort directed at tourists.
But whatever sort of campaign is instituted, a problem is that the punters don't see this illegal trade as any big deal. For many it is a bit of fun (though there are also tourists who get hacked off with the harassment). For many it is a cheap way of buying CDs and the rest. There was a recent radio report regarding a campaign by trading standards somewhere in England. The reporter spoke to a few of the purchasers. Aware they may have been that the trade was illegal, but it didn't bother them. The amounts being spent were not great - indeed they were low - and there was little concern that some of the products might be of inferior quality and that there was no comeback. What does it matter when what you're spending is so low? Trading standards, and no doubt the Alcúdia authorities also, can point to the losses that are incurred by rights holders because of counterfeiting, but they are of minor consequence to most people - just consider also the level of illegal downloading. Even the money that can be made from the big piracy operations probably don't bother people either. There was another report recently in England about police action that netted the producers of illegal DVDs whose "business" was said to be worth several million pounds.
Fining purchasers might sound like a strong deterrent, but only if people are aware of such fines and are also unwilling to take the risk. It doesn't deter. Some friends who visited Alcúdia earlier this summer were surprised to see what they took to be a bar owner going through a whole bunch of CDs and DVDs and sorting out what he wanted. As ever with illegal trades, and the lookies also deal in contraband of a more serious nature, it is attacking the sources of supply that can limit the trade. However, though successful interventions by the police have indeed been reported in Mallorca, the trade still carries on. It isn't that difficult to replicate, or at least one imagines it isn't.
And then there is the illegal trade that does not rely on the wretched lookies. But let's not go there.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Spirit, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aHz9Xag8LCM (the video is of an 80s incarnation of the band and not that good except for Ed Cassidy, the original drummer). Today's title - it featured Carlos Santana.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
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