«Among the Potato Eaters. An Exiled Spanish Scientist looks at Britain»
£ 3,99 it costs less than a pint of beer at the pub.
Today Britain is at a crossroads, Brexit is a danger for the life and existence of this country.
This book looks at the hideous politicians who are destroying their own country, and tells amazing details of life here, unknown to the public of other countries who have in mind a very wrong image of the country, created by TV and the movies.
Many of the British survive on potatoes -that’s why my chosen title- and low quality foods like that as if they were still living in the 19th Century, and what is still worse, some newspapers propose to feed the population, on insects!
Most of the population survives in abject poverty, in desperation they think only of their benefits -social aids, common to other European countries.
If Britain breaks away from the EU there’s even the danger of hunger, apparently the Army has been warned to keep the peace in case disturbances occur if food is no longer available in the islands.
The causes of this disaster are studied and explained, and some of the individuals who are soiling their own nest, to increase their wealth and power, denounced.
I published this book yesterday, and today what I say has been proved, The May, this horrible woman who is the Prime Minister, who far from being a new Margaret Thatcher mark 2 is just a low graduate in history -Thatcher was a scientist- blames the European Union for her own mistakes, and she is hailed by the worst newspapers in the world, the Daily Telegraph and the Daily Mail.
I am Spanish and this book offers a Spanish view of many things British, certainly different from the boring and repetitive fare that is published in Britain, where they copy each other and not an original thought among the lot of them.
There are also reflections on British and Spanish literature -you may find the comparisons illuminating- and on the present state of ruin in Spain, this author doesn’t shake the Spanish flag, rather, tells things as he sees them.
A chapter of the book I add now, as a premium for your confidence.
Rest assured that the ideas put forward are mine and only mine, as far as I know, it is of course very difficult to be original in this life, is mine the comparison between Boris Johnson and Emperor Claudius, who also spoke Latin and Greek like Johnson, only better than this dangerous man.
32. Boris, the minister for cocktail parties?
Rather, the Emperor Claudius of our times
It used to be in Britain that the ninety per cent, before they were given the right to vote, before the First World War when not even all the men had the right to vote (just a few men did, and nobody was complaining) but all put their faith in the clever ten per cent, perhaps even in the exalted one per cent.
Then the 1 % sent them to die in the trenches and when the Russian revolution happened the people at the top in Britain gave the right to vote to the masses being assured that it was going to be much the same thing.
When the Second World War began, Britain was really the World Empire of Evil, lording over half of humanity by force of arms, not that it raised the standard of living of the British population, who were poor as rats.
Then Britain lost the war and lost its Empire.
Being monsters of humbug, the Russians had defeated the Nazis and the Americans had defeated the Japanese but the Brits said that they had won the war, called it VE day, Victory in Europe, when the Soviets entered Berlin.
Nevertheless I admit that at the time they had some fine people as leaders.
Now they are scrapping the bottom of the barrel.
Boris Johnson, ex-mayor of London and MP is the son of an MP and he graduated at Oxford –like very many people too.
Do you know in what he graduated, in which subject? I put the question because nobody I have asked knows, it may be that I am a foreigner, that’s why I know. Do you know?
He graduated in Greek language.
Not a subject that prepares a person to the problems and challenges of the 21st Century, but it doesn’t matter because the people of this country worrying only about their benefits, they don’t know and couldn’t care less.
When he started Boris was made editor of a right-wing magazine, owned by the owners of the D.elirium T.remens –the Daily Telegraph of the brothers Barclay, well known property speculators.
In The Spectator he had a swell time with some fine English wenches, sharing them with the Minister of Home Affairs of Tony Blair, a blind man with a guide dog but of course women don’t mind if you are blind or married with children as long as you have money and power you can lift them up by the doughnut.
Boris made the most out of the D.elirium T.remens, writing trash about straight bananas and the EU, and how when he was a kid wrote about atomic power from a Ladybird book, so that qualified him as an MP to expound about atomic power stations. But the reader of the D. T. sloshed on G&T is happy, Boris reassures him in his ignorance and prejudices. Drunkenness has a lot to answer for in this country.
After a few days as an MP he got to be Mayor of London by riding in a bicycle to show the people what a man of the future he is, our future being a poor version of the past, riding on a bicycle looking at an iPhone.
In Spain a half-wit who graduated in Greek and rode a bicycle would had been laughed at by a more intelligent, sensible and aware population but the dumbing down of the British population has reached such depths that David Cameron imitated Boris, going to work on bicycle while the official car behind him carried his documents.
Boris has been twice Mayor of London, and as the British haven’t yet opened the season on their politicians it is OK –as I write this there are a thousand politicians and Mayors of the Popular Party in Spain facing prison for corruption, embezzlement and other Spanish practices, they have opened the season on them, you see.
When David Cameron called the referendum on Brexit, to lose it on purpose of course, for a time the rodents jumped the sinking ship but very quickly the rats jumped back on board.
The ship may sink, but they always float like a cork or like the other thing that you are thinking and also floats.
At present Boris has a brain hernia every other day, regular.
He proposed to rebuilt the Royal Yacht, a new Britannia, to travel in pomp and circumstance to shores of other countries –taking along a destructor with 500 soldiers and attack helicopters and missiles, it is going to cost a pretty penny.
The next week he wants to declare war on Russia, then forgets about it and engages in a hissing and scratching fight with The May who’s presiding or prime-ministering if you wish, over the destruction of their country.
John Carlin, an English journalist and intellectual of renown –he used to be the editor of the Buenos Aires Herald, a position of much worth- angry at the sorry spectacle of Boris hamming it as Minister of Foreign Affairs (a position once occupied by Palmerston and by the first Lord Ponsomby) baptized Boris as The Minister for Cocktail Parties, seeing that The May took away from him all powers leaving him with social ceremonies to attend.
Like Claudius, emperor of Rome.
Credit where it is due, Boris knows the history of Rome.
Claudius, if you have read the book by Robert Graves or you know the history of Rome that I knew when I was thirteen years old and living at the other corner of the globe, or if you saw the TV series “Claudius the God and the Empress Messaline” or you can look it up in a famous Encyclopedia; Claudius was a minor and despised member of the Imperial Family of Rome, a mumbling fool (!) who knew Greek (!) he even proposed some new Greek letters for the Roman alphabet some kind of an intellectual but weird and laughed at. (!)
His love life was a shambles. (!)
After the slaughter of Caligula, Claudius was upped to the throne and conquered Britain (!), or rather it was conquered for him and he came to this island where no Englishman had yet set foot, and paraded riding an elephant, a showman emperor Claudius he was (!).
His rule was one of assassinations(!) and Neronian fires (!) and don’t tell me that Nero came after Claudius, I already knew it very well when I was wearing short trousers, because several emperors had set fire to Rome before Claudius, starting with Julius Caesar who had a Fire Insurance company in Rome and if you didn’t pay his rates, he had a gang of criminals who would set fire to your house and then pull your house down because of the risk to others, Nero simply did what the other emperors were fond of doing, only he did it bigger and better, and the terror tactics he had learned from Claudius his adopted father.
Boris, far from being the mumbling lovely fool he pretends to be, a Minister for Cocktail Parties as Carlin called him, as a real working Minister of Foreign Affairs he owns the spying department MI6, rather the real organization that hides under that fantasy name.
Hail, Emperor Boris/Claudius! well you pulled the wool over the eyes of the woolly folk.
Max Hastings, who used to be the boss of this fellow has said that Boris is just mad, and swore that if Boris is ever in control of atomic weapons he will start an atomic war to kill the poor, (that means to kill you) and that he will fly away to Buenos Aires or some such if Boris ever gets to be PM.
Keep the passport ready, Sir Hastings.
Información para españoles, poco dotados para el inglés son Uds.
Mi libro no es largo, los capitulos son cortos, creo que es ameno -hay bastantes agudezas y chistes en él- y cuenta cosas ignoradas y sorprendentes sobre la vida hoy y ahora en el Reino Unido, este país en peligrosa decadencia.