“Let Txapote vote for you.” A cardboard of 0.80 euros in any stationery shop, a cheap marker and four words was barely enough to demoralize the premier, in early September, of the “people’s government” campaign, something like Popeye’s spinach Joe Moncloa. had borrowed speech (well, spreading words without rhyme or reason) that the unemployed Iglesias left as a toxic legacy in the coalition executive. Because that “taxapot vote for you” is the heavy bag that Sanchez will carry from here until he decides to call an election and, incidentally, will also break back by Page, Vara and Lambon and the rest of the proxy. Barons who in the spring present themselves to the test of municipal and autonomous peoples. When he saw on TV and in the press the cardboard that was raised over his head and stirred up at the rally leader’s arrival, in the background the prop that slid like a stowaway in Sanchez’s triumphant selfie, he saw the Baron with his forks. placed on them. Plates and morsels went elsewhere when they swallowed, knowing that from now on “Let the Texapot vote for you” would torment their sleep on the eve of any meeting. Since breaking that cardboard with a simple rhyme as devastating as it is to the Sanchista project, Image is blindfolded and trying to kill the piata with harmless blows. Blind sticks, alliances in the air, error after error, whether theoretical, argumentative or merely declarative, it is what it is, it leaves no room for success. His nerves are eating him alive and all those failed attacks become a futile endeavor, almost comically useless if it were not for the grim backdrop of the energy that was wasted by power in crisis-ridden Spain, where the nearest horizon The ends, he says, beckon two final examples into one, although there are dozens. The Social Security minister is left up in the air with Tafanario, on his own, announcing a “recentralisation” of taxes, refusing Moncloa, which put him in an almost ridiculous position the day he watered. Holes for glass … without glass. Or the Minister of Justice, Pilar Lope, in a fearless march through the hills of Obeda where the wolf of his surname devoured him, stuttering and unable to make it clear to Congress that Catalonia is Spain, Rufian, that politician was not the one to get angry. Is. And to remain in the mess, he faces the Supreme Court, placing his authority at the height of the Botorita peace court, to justify the pardon of the corrupt Ere. Well, only for Grinan, that if it’s for the government the rest can get used to the prison farm and the Huelva Prison Commissariat, if any censure. Txapot, the one with the cardboard, Huelva was fine in prison, serving a sentence for fourteen murders, including that of Miguel ngel Blanco, until Marlasca (always great) and Sánchez (the giant in his case) ‘reward’ him. decided not to give. A step forward for the Basque Country. The piata’s treasure has undoubtedly gone to him.