We’ve lost our proper customs. With all the things you’re supposed to do on a Thursday, besides eating yellow paella. But there’s no other option. It’s non- negotiable. If the law permits it, we vote on a Thursday. And the law allows those in government to allow. Those who are relentless in the re-establishment of order can change the order. We can change from Sunday to Thursday, it rhymes better. But on Thursdays, we Catalans go out sometimes. Much more than Monday or Tuesday. We don’t go out too much on Wednesdays, either. Thursday is the start of our excesses. Hey, the metro’s still open, but let’s grab a taxi. Yellow. And black. On Thursday, we’ll have candidates thousands of miles away, either in exile or in prison. We’ll be stuck to forbidden words. We won’t yell when we leave the polling stations, either. Divisiveness campaigns all year, but you notice it more if you’re eating torró d’Alacant.1 Fortunately, it isn’t a year-round dessert. We’ll give it our teeth. Thursday, we’re encouraged to vote, even if we don’t have any teeth. During the week, the festival of democracy looks promising. Too bad we can’t have guarantees. And too bad about the paella. Does anyone know if we can legally eat it on a Monday?
Periodista i articulista. Treballa al programa d’humor La competència de RAC1 i és autora del llibre Feminisme per a microones (Ara llibres).