In Zaragoza a man is poisoned by his ex with a croquette. Eating the aforementioned, feeling bad and, the next day, in addition to the headache, missing 27,000 euros from his checking account was all one. The thief croquette was served to her at the Los Juncos bar, where she had met the one who was in love with her, with whom she was divorcing her. The drugged croquette oozed benzodiazepine and bad host, obviously. If it had been combined with a lot of alcohol, she could have been a killer kibble. Ah, passion, what surprises it deals us. That when you go looking for the bravas, the woman you adored manipulates a lid to rob you, or that they get you off a tour if you are Pancho Varona, and your boss, Joaquín Sabina, who has now left the left, but still does not leave the ways to nail Trotsky with ice axes.
There are passions that one accepts from those one loves even if they are incomprehensible to them, such as having toxic partners or liking Joaquín Sabina. Beyond some rumbitas as poisoned by Bambino as the Rivotril croquette, the Andalusian musician's material has not been, with few exceptions, more than Imserso's piped music, madrid slutty world and seventies pub philosophy with uncleaned seats since its inception. opening.
And by the way, Max, Charlie and Rocky are the most popular names for dogs in Spain; Luna, Bella and Lola, for bitches, and Varona who doesn't understand being left out of the booth after 40 years and more than a thousand concerts. Fans point to disagreements between the families of Sabinista musicians, and many hold Leiva responsible as if she were a new Yoko Ono dressed as an impeccable Captain Hook, but what does it matter.
As they grow old, all the great poets sacrifice themselves to youth and sell their old friends. It happened to Pedro Carrasco, Rafael Alberti, and now Joaquín Sabina. It's either that or get poisoned with a kibble.
