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After all that was the week, with the country in an unbridgeable state of decomposition, it occurred to Rajoy to congratulate Madrid with a tweet. It was a lucrative gesture of normalcy, although not so normal when he expected his presence in Kiev and left the clutter of representation to the King Emeritus (who did act of contrition, and much less ). Certain Gürtelian emergencies, alas, did not recommend Estafermo to leave Moncloa or the airspace of a Spain in B.

With the aerated zurraspa in the Gürtel and what is to come, Rajoy walked with the tuiter's pileup and congratulated Real Madrid with its acronym MR which is a rubric of sustained disaster. It serves him and his critical mass tolerates it. And it is curious that he is called MR when he is “Mariano Punto” in the prosody podemita of the prochalet … The important thing, nevertheless, is what MR communicates for the RRSS in the middle of the national and the overabundance of intimate feathers.

When we look at these days from a distance, we will not remember the alignment of Zidane nor a justified Welshman based on Chileans. No, that May in memory will be 'the memory' (sic) of a string of posh tanned and a Galician connoisseur who consented.

Every minute with Rajoy derives in national implosion and more pain in the ulcer. I look again at Rajoy's tweet: “To the end” and I foresee the twelve plagues, the gnashing of teeth and the Estafermo impassive there, congratulating the Selection and trotting cochineramente in that Spain in which the sun finally set.

The analysts give for dead the legislature and one knows that Rajoy grows as a rare flower in the detritus of his own . Their multimedia lackeys can and will surprise us. Maybe we'll see it. Rivera and Sánchez have the opportunity to remove the tumor, and so God blesses them-they are young. As far as possible and impossible.

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