There is no year in which the planetary waters do not go down more turmoil than those of the song of Don Simón and Bart Funkel. There is no year in which more gases are not generated that produce a bigger hole in the layer of ‘ezo no’ that protects us from radiation. The string of millions of the old pesetas -now ‘one million euros, baby’- is served, as if it were the head of the Baptist, on a silver tray transmuted into a frying pan so that the winner takes them warm. On some occasions it involves the creation of a television ‘master chef’; in others, of a Tajo-Segura transfer that leaves the competition with their faces washed and recently ‘ironed’; and in others, finally, a portion of cracked or smashed eggs served as a ‘signature’ dish.
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Reference-www.elperiodico.com