The Guardian’s Editorial: Is Spain’s Future in the Hands of Sanchez or the Extreme Right?

This week, “The Guardian”, one of the best pijiprogres newspapers in Europe, surprised me with an editorial that seemed more like a “working class” tabloid or a voiceover that Rupert Murdoch commissions from Fox, in which he portrayed Sánchez as the savior of Europe, an elongated Napoleon, a tall Charlemagne. Wow, if Spain does not vote for him, the continent would be in the hands of the extreme right or the extreme right, which is what they say in Moncloa. The International Brigades have arrived, led by George Orwell, to serve the Republican troops since Feijóo, as everyone can see just by looking at his face, is going to blow up the European Union with his fascist rebellion. If the Galician has brought me some crests lately!

As happened in the national episodes of the “procés”, the most “woke” foreign press once again focuses on a Spain that seems to cage emigrants and take power away from judges, which is what, however, I wanted to do Sanchez. So Great Britain continues to be a democracy after Brexit and suffering from Boris Johnson’s drunkard, according to the chronicles that came from the loss of Albion, but as Feijóo lands in Moncloa dressed in green like a Celtic Zelenski here we will not see a farewell to “British” bachelor in Benidorm, the kind that ends up with underpants, or panties, on the head.

There is a bully argument according to which the right can govern anywhere except in Spain, and that Franco has already been exhumed, but Franco can’t come back from the grave because he doesn’t even know where the hell he is anymore. That demon is taken out for a walk without embarrassment by the crude left (there are no longer intellectuals left but instagramers), the left here and apparently also the left for which Spain is Francoist in general, authoritarian with Catalonia in particular and anti-ecologist with strawberry flavor, the ones that are going to stop buying from us for our good because we are drowning the planet in the west.

In the apocalyptic discourse there is no note at the foot of the page about the radicalism of the opponent, not just the partners, who always were, but the savior of Europe, who has entered the metaverse to do everything at once everywhere. , with a stop, of course, in the thirties. Our “handsome” is a drunken Fitzgerald even in abstemious mode, past metasomething, like that Zuckerberg who chooses what we should talk about as if he were spitting.