Spanish customs

As viewed from a Hampshire country pub.

The girl waiting next to me at the bar asks about my t-shirt depicting Michael Jackson as a fetid green zombie, George Michael contemplating park life, and a Mexican wrestler beating his boeskool, and in the ensuing it emerges that I live some of the time in Barcelona, and that she loves Gaudy and the Sangria Familia, how wonderful it must be to live in Spain and learn Spanish customs, orders a pint of cold white Rioja with ice. And with the sexiest man alive drinking just round the corner, and all.

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