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.

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 ... .

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.

The Jesús And Montse Chain

If rock music had never existed, its invention may well have used as its prototype The Jesus and Mary Chain. Here, pre-Oasis and pre-Primal Scream, was a post-punk creation, aided by Alan McGee's Creation Records, notable and notorious for two brothers with a capacity for duelling cricket-bat violence that could have acted as the manual for the Gallaghers and a further capacity for vast drug-taking in the grand style of the Primals' Bobby Gillespie, who had after all been their original drummer. Naturally enough, it was to eventually all end in tears, the Reid brothers at the point of killing each other.

They have, of course, in good rock tradition, reformed, having discovered a maturity that was singularly lacking in the eighties. The fate of The Jesus and Mary Chain may act as a metaphor (minus, one trusts, the drugs and violence) for what is the new political rock 'n' roll. Had political parties never existed, the invention could have been Podemos. Ostensibly ultra-democratic, extending a message to an audience of worshippers like those waving their lighters at a rock concert, forging rather than breaking a mould of staleness, they burst onto the scene with a previously unknown vim and vigour. But as with many a rock band, they are confronted with the difficult second album, the first having been the astonishing impact at the Euro elections and then the regionals and generals. The difficulty is such that there are political (musical) differences, a fragmenting and no small amount of infighting and intrigue.  

Amidst all this, we have the Jesús of the party: Jesús Jurado, the second vice-president at the Council of Mallorca, the number three to the Banbury Boy, Mick of the Consell. All had seemed sweetness and light at the Council, Mick steering a consensual ship with his able vice-presidential men, Jesús and Francesc Miralles of PSOE, navigating in the same direction. Then there came the thorny problem of budgets. Darkness encroached, and more was to come. Jesús, so it is being alleged, had been selecting senior officials by himself, forming his own off-shoot group at the Council and leaving the three-piece band appearing to be shorn of one member.

While Mick's band is running up against its difficulties, Jesús's alleged contracting enters the territory signposted Ethics. Or rather, in the opposite direction. Podemos, refuting any unethical behaviour, are adopting a somewhat different line to that regarding Xelo Huertas and Montse Seijas. The latter was branded a "defector" by the local leadership as she was formally dismissed from the parliamentary group last Monday. Where her defection will lead her remains an unknown, but the meeting at which she was expelled didn't hint at the political differences ending up with her and Xelo forming The Happy Mondays.

Montse returned the compliment. The defectors are in fact the Podemos leadership. She, Montse, said that she will continue to defend the ideas of Podemos. It is they, the leadership, which are not. "They do not defend what the citizens voted for." Following this, and like rock bands resort to litigation in squabbles over royalties, Podemos now find a court taking an interest.

Montse presented a "denuncia". This claimed that her digital signature had been used without her knowledge. She had registered questions that she wanted to ask on health matters. Some while later, it emerged that the questions had been withdrawn without her consent. A judge, therefore, would like a word with the Podemos leadership. It could, say could, represent a violation of her rights as a representative of the citizens, which would be a serious issue. The leadership's response is that this was "an administrative error" in a "routine" procedure such as the automated system of signatures. The judge will seek to unravel this particular chain.

Meanwhile, Podemos give an appearance of themselves unravelling. Might they split, citing political differences, only to reform some time in the future and return having acquired greater maturity? Probably not, but they nevertheless face the problem of the difficult second album.

No We Cannot: Podemos Dissension

Podemos are fast becoming No Podemos - We Cannot. Disappearing rapidly is the curiously Obama-esque positivity, which is being replaced by the squabbles of the over-promoted. Thrust under a political spotlight, the previously unknown and unheard-of are all wanting the light to shine on them. Look at me, look at us. Yes, we can. Oh no we can't.

Montse Seijas, one of the sisterhood of two with Xe-Lo Huertas cast adrift by the politburo in Madrid, has been laying into the Agitpropist-In-Chief, Alberto Jarabo. And that's because it turns out that Alberto isn't as agit as he has previously been made to look. According to Montse, Alberto is in fact weak and selling Podemos out to the revisionist left of Més and, worse still, PSOE. Moreover, so brassed off are Balearic Podemosites with Alberto that he has lost their support. Or so says Montse.

The suspension of Montse and Xe-Lo from the party is, therefore, designed to quash the voices of dissent. Which does, it must say, all sound rather odd, as the suspensions were ordered by the harder left element in Madrid (the Pablo Iglesias faction). But Montse is suggesting that Alberto has gone all soft and is aligning himself more with the Iñigo Errejón wing in Madrid, which is precisely the wing that Montse and Xe-Lo had seemed to be signed up to.

In fact, Alberto doesn't seem to have gone weak at all. Whereas he had said that Podemos wouldn't be seeking changes to the 2017 budget, this is exactly what they are doing, roaring around parliament waving sheets of paper with almost fifty amendments. They don't, for instance, want any more money to go to the university's medical faculty; they've been against it from the outset. And they don't want Biel Barceló spending any money on tourism promotion. The demand is that mostly all the money for promotion - 3.6 million euros - goes instead to innovation and development. Barceló says this is unrealistic, not least because a sizable amount of the promotion budget has already been committed to pay for attendance at travel fairs next year. It's a waste of money, insist Podemos, given that the Balearics are swamped by so many damn tourists as it is.

On a non-financial matter, Podemos have also been wading into the Majorca Day debate. In seeking an alternative to the current day - 12 September - the Council of Majorca has somewhat madly come up with the notion of having two days, one of which would be 31 December, the day when Jaume I took Palma. No, no, no, say Podemos, this will never do, as it would be a tribute to monarchy, something just as bad as supporting a religious act. Hence the day should be 24 April, when the Council of Majorca was constituted in 1979 and would be a celebration far more pointless than the current one. No one much pays any attention to 12 September as it is. Absolutely no one would be interested in 24 April.

Meanwhile, three members of the Podemos citizens' council have resigned because of their support for Montse and Xe-Lo. Others may follow. All the time, someone is keeping very quiet, and that is the Podemos Boot Girl, Laura Camargo. Montse implies that she's privately had it with Alberto as well. Given that she has always been the real power, might there be a putsch? Who can possibly say? Can we? No we can't.

The Podemos War Has Come To The Balearics

It wasn't the best of weeks for the Podemos sisterhood. Despite having been suspended by the politburo in Madrid, Xe-Lo mysteriously still managed to bustle into the Balearic parliament and take her place on the speaker's chair. It wasn't, therefore, the best of weeks for other parliamentarians. No one was paying any attention to them. All eyes were on the suspended Xe-Lo.

Suspension was the polite way of describing the early stages of the Podemos purge of dissidents. Along with the purge was coming the spin. Xe-Lo, we were led to believe, had applied pressure to the initials - B.B. (Biel Barceló) and C.C. (Catalina Cladera) - to seek to ensure continued funding to the laboratory run by the alarmingly big-haired Podemosite doctor, Daniel Bachiller, who could himself be mistaken for a member of the sisterhood.

The idea that there was pressure being applied seemed somewhat fanciful. Had she tied B.B. to his parliamentary chair and poked him until he agreed to handing over every last euro of tourist tax revenue to the Bachiller lab? And what about C.C.? A fully paid-up member of the PSOE sisterhood, it was unlikely that she would accede to demands made from someone - Xe-Lo - who fell out in spectacular fashion with sweet and friendly Francina Armengol when she jumped PSOE ship some four years ago and ended up in the ranks of Podemos. To put it bluntly, Francina can't stand her.

And on closer examination, what was really the fuss about the Bachiller funding? He may not have been coming up with the research goods, but it turns out that this arrangement goes back some ten years. Should we conclude, therefore, that it was all the fault of Jaume Matas? It was during his reign that the funding started, and it continued through the Antich phase and on into the Bauzá era, when austerity was all the rage but apparently not when it came to a lab that wasn't achieving a great deal.

While Xe-Lo was resisting calls from the likes of Wild Man Més, David Abril, to vacate the speaker's chair, another one of the Podemos sisterhood was active in seeking a counter-purge. The also suspended Montse Seijas, who no one had ever heard of until last week, denounced Podemos general secretary Alberto Jarabo over his connections with the broadcaster IB3. Jarabo, in his former life, was a producer. Seijas, it turned out, had commissioned a report which raised "alarm" where she was concerned because of the apparent ongoing, if indirect, relationship between Jarabo and IB3; essentially, the production company for which he had been working has allegedly been getting more work. This report was, according to Seijas, sat on because of its supposedly defamatory nature.

Questions have been asked as to why Podemos High Command got involved in the local issue of the Bachiller lab and who put High Command up to suspending Xe-Lo and Seijas. The IB3 angle suddenly made things appear (potentially) somewhat clearer.

While all this local business was going on, High Command, in the form of Podemos leader Pablo Iglesias, was stamping his authority more firmly on the party. Amidst the internecine struggle between Iglesias and the Infant Iñigo Errejón, an Iglesias man, Ramón Espinar, was named general secretary of the party in Madrid. The loser was Rita Maestre, most famed for having taken her clothes off (well some) in a Madrid chapel and therefore having ended up in court on a charge of denying religious freedom (she was fined some four thousand euros). Rita is referred to, in somewhat disparaging terms, as "la chica de Errejón".

Anyway, her defeat confirmed the progressively more left-wing shift of Iglesias, who is now firmly aligned with the anti-capitalist extreme wing of Podemos, of which the Balearics Boot Girl, Laura Camargo, is a leading light. And it is Laura, as everyone knows, who wears the trousers in the Balearics. Jarabo is her soul mate. The Seijas IB3 intervention was a declaration of internal war. And the winners will not be either another Errejón "chica", Xe-Lo, or Seijas.