Manuel left me clues

          First time I went with Manuel to his place, walking from Boccaccio discotheque, where we had met up another day and we had been talking and curiously he had said to me he liked my shirt, it was a my father’s big gift!, being him a bit surprised on seeing me with the newspaper always, well then, in his place we talked about the Spanish Civil War, of Spain’s political and social situation, about his father’s fusillade, about my brother’s political party, the P.R.F.S. (Republican Federal Socialist Party), and about Fernando Cotoner. I had finished by confessing to him I had given Fernando my telephone number written on a piece of the newspaper under the table. When I did I studied his reaction, it was a slightly nod, smile and take his finger to his lips with a gesture widely spread among revolutionaries, moment I took advantage of to tell him about what I had seen on the flat screens in that mysterious room in my parents’ house in Xinzo de Limia, the massacre of an Africans multitude, many women and babies, locked up in a warehouse in Rhodesia, that I said to Manuel it makes you weep by force when it can be seen how to the locked up people the explosion hits them full. We remained silent for a moment, both thinking with rage. I had seen more than one newspaper and some reviews piled on a table. I had supposed Manuel was subscribed to more than one newspaper and I told myself I knew it. I may almost say that I knew he was subscribed besides to reviews on general information, on art and on nature, he was subscribed to ABC and El País to be informed, apart from watching news on TV as a custom.

            I spoke to him about my situation and he told me he would look for a job for me. I told him it had been days since I last went to sleep in my parents’ and that a little it was as if I had to search for a place to live in. He said to me he would pay me a room in a house in the centre if I wanted to. I was very grateful to him, since I had confessed to him my situation was quite uncomfortable, sometimes going to sleep to comrades houses and times one says at last and always depending on the circumstances. The thing was I was in a tight, I needed 2.000 pesetas. This was the reason why I had accompanied Manuel to his place, where he said to me he would give them to me, that he hadn’t got money on him in the discotheque. He gave me the 2.000 pesetas and told me to crash out in his place if I had not place to go to sleep to. Yes, well, I said, I may always count with my parents in extreme situations, although the truth was that day someone was waiting for me, a girlfriend called Silvia who lived in Jorge Juan Street, where I did sometimes crash out. I told him how I had met Silvia Lizarralde during a demonstration at plaza Dos de Mayo. She had taken me by the hand and had taken me to a party in a house where we were alone. Later I went with her to her flat in Jorge Juan Street and stayed on for a few days. He asked me about my friends. I told him I kept in touch with many of Usera always, but by then I used to meet two friends in the evenings, Jesús Martín, who curiously lives in Jorge Juan Street too, beyond the Sports Palace where Silvia lived, and Alberto Varela, to whom I had been introduced to at José Luis Martín Vigil the writer’s house, and with both of them I shared a same circumstance, to smoke hashish. I told him about both. Some days I appointed with Jesús, with whom I held up a straight friendship, for apart of smoking hashish we used to go to demonstrations armed with stones. Some days I appointed with Alberto, with whom I finished by a friendship of sharing apartments, stolen cars and hired ones, holidays, trips, evenings and nights at some fashionable pubs listening to the music and the experimentation with other drugs. Since Manuel was introduced to Alberto they shared a big friendship.

            Manuel found me a room in Las Pozas Street, in the area of Noviciado, at a family’s flat, where I shared a room with a guy who worked delivering butane. One day Angelines, a girl friend of Jesús Martín came to see me. I remember it especially because I asked her being she seated in front of me, if she was not Angelines my old companion, for although I knew she was friend of Jesús, she looked so identical to an old companion at Colegio Latino in Usera whose name was Angelines too, that I may not imagine other but being both the same. With Manuel I went to the movies and talked in his place, sometimes we dined together, in his place or at a restaurant. One day we came across with my brother Luis in Gran Vía Street. He had been handing out revolutionary pamphlets with his wife Paloma González Simón, and they had seen themselves obligated to separate because they had tried to arrest them. Manuel told Luis he would invite him to dine. We went to a restaurant in Plaza de España. At diner, how not, we spoke about politics, and Luis was resoundingly in the revolutionary ideal. When Luis had gone away Manuel said to me that Luis got hot during his speech. I told Manuel I embraced my brother’s feelings with all my soul. He said he could realise that for his social position and life level may not be understood by revolutionaries, that they would consider him a bourgeois in all cases, although in fact an explanation did exist. I inferred that as a matter-of-fact he would help me to rebel against the dummy king of Spain. Alberto and I began to visit Manuel assiduously and Pilar Lanza Ovies and other boys and girls friends of Alberto and Pilar were introduced to Manuel and we used to meet up to play cards, to listen to the music, to go to the movies, to make trips. One day the four of us were together, Pilar, Alberto, Manuel and I and it was early morning. On the morning newspaper front page appeared the news of the arrest of a revolutionary activist of Xinzo de Limia, Barge his surname, same as mine. That is, Leopoldo, you have got a cousin in GRAPO, Alberto said to me. Manuel’s house was at number 2 of Almagro Street and one day of those GRAPO had killed a policeman at the door of the central office of the DNI, (Identity National Document), distant a hundred metres from Manuel’s. The truth is I used to read the newspapers every day, especially El País, all days with much relish, but when someone illuminated my mind I always composed myself a revolutionary situation from where I could not but succeed.

            I remembered my father and my comrades Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge had told me I would someday see them shooting up on a film. My father took me to the street starting at Plaza de Legazpi, which was always full of trucks so that I should know. Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge did it while we were going around in a SEAT 1500 through Madrid’s streets after saying to me too they belonged to a gang called Black Eyes. Already by then I had recorded in my mind many intense situations since childhood, but in getting to Plaza de Cristo Rey I recollected it had not been long ago that I had obligated Franco and a large group of army officers and soldiers who were celebrating a fusillade to run away from that square, event Jorge told me to have seen it himself.

            Manuel offered me his place. I thanked him much and accepted because I wasn’t living comfortable in someone else’s house, and although Manuel’s was same as well, we shared a friendship that would allow me to live with more room and to study. By then it had been two weeks since I was attending Colegio Jamer not knowing yet if the new education law would allow me to study COU, University Orientation Course, with two subjects pending from 6º of Baccalaureate, Physics and Chemistry. Finally it turned out I would have to repeat the two subjects’ course with no option to combine with COU at the same time, so I didn’t attend the college no more.

            Already installed at Manuel’s in 2 Almagro Street I led a life not to lose time: I used to read El País in the mornings, appointed with Alberto and Pilar many days, watched news on TV at 3 p.m. and as a general rule at 9 p.m. too, I ate with Manuel almost always in his place, the good food good lady Manolita cooked, and appointed again with Alberto and Pilar in the evenings or with their boys and girls friends, sometimes we went to the movies, we listened to the music at Manuel’s often and also we came out in a gang to fashionable joints amongst bohemians. We had made some trips to nearer provinces of Madrid, to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria and to Lanzarote in February and later to Rome, where I was on May 1 watching the workers demonstration beside the Coliseum, after in summer we came back again to Lanzarote. Manuel, Alberto and I hired a house in Puerto del Carmen, in Lanzarote, and one of those days a paramount sky surprised us with a drizzle over the sea from an enormous yellow cloud, and in its day Manuel and I have disputed about who had taken the picture.

            I wished already to go to England to study English, for I had studied French during Baccalaureate. In London Manuel had an apartment in Pont Street, very near to the Spanish Embassy in Belgravia Square, and an antiques shop. Even when I dedicated my time to be informed, to study and to read, with Alberto I had experiences out of the law and for empiric’s sake with other drugs. We shared an apartment in the same Almagro Street, fifty metres from Manuel’s. It was later that I installed at Manuel’s. With Manuel I had epic and hilarious experiences like it will be seen, and squeezed the most his advice with respect to authors and titles. As for me, and it didn’t surprise me Manuel’s admired attitude, I had charged myself of letting him know I was not adult to vote in the referendum for or against the new constitution, but anyway I had written a propagandistic essay against the referendum and encouraging the armed struggle that had been published in a clandestine publication of the International Communist Party.  

            It interested me much, how not, conversations with Manuel being both alone, because he gave me such an amount of information about the dummy king and his family, about kings and queens and chiefs of state, about Adolfo Suárez, president of government, about politicians, businessmen and characters, that if it wasn’t enough it can also be said his intention was clearly opening my eyes. Manuel spent a lot of time busy in his antiques business and when he was at home he was always in a good mood to join people or to propose a new plan and make us feel comfortable. He had introduced to us some male and female friends, of whom I will mention three: Mona Jiménez, who in those days she held a social gathering of politicians and journalists at her place inviting everybody to lentils and who looked for a job for Pilar, Alberto and me in a bingo, where we three were doing practising when gamble law hadn’t been approved yet, so we didn’t know yet whether being nineteen years old we could work or not in a bingo, until the law they approved finally didn’t allow us to work in bingos being under twenty-one; Carlos Zurita, brother-in-law to the dummy king of Spain, to whom I was introduced to when he had come to Manuel’s with who was his liaison by then, Joaquín Luca de Tena, of the family of the ABC; someone surnamed Álvarez, Protocol Chief at Moncloa’s palace, presidency of the Spanish government, occupied by the sneaky fascist Adolfo Suárez, who had been chosen by the dummy king, who knew, clear it is, the duke champion of Spanish transition had done a career in the Movimiento during 17 years. It was this Álvarez that invited Manuel and me to visit Moncloa’s palace and being alone with Manuel I told him I wouldn’t go for nothing in the world but to remove the mask so much damage does.

            Manuel said to me he had bought a 1.500 square metres flat in Jorge Juan Street to be divided in two with snob Carlos Zurita and his wife ugly Margarita de Borbón, sister of the dummy king, and that the works had started already. Some days later he told me the queen had gone to see how the works were going on and I remember I imagined the queen walking among debris and suddenly a beam fell down on her head. I asked him if she had stood at his flat’s side and he told me she had, that she had accompanied him. Manuel asked me if I wanted to live in his house at 9 Jorge Juan Street, that my room would be small but comfortable, with an inside yard he would fill with plants. The two divided flats would have a door communicating through the kitchens. I ventured myself that, like I supposed, I would be chief of state and said to him yes and I laughed inwardly.

            The circumstance was that my parents gave me a document with which I should be present in Ourense to do the military service. I forgot I had to go to Ourense and my parents warned me I had to pay 5.500 pesetas fine for not having been present in Ourense and to go to Paseo de la Reina Cristina barracks, where I went after paying 5.500 pesetas in State’s Letters and they asked me for documents, sized me, weighed me and asked me some questions. I wanted to get rid of military service and to go to England to study English. Manuel had counselled me to declare myself unfit for military service pleading I was neurotic. I went to Gómez Ulla military hospital and a neurologist surnamed Larrea saw me, to him I did all but an impeccable show of my knowing to imitate emperor Claudio in every gesticulation and in the sound of my voice, for the TV series entitled “I, Claudius”, based on the work by Robert Graves, had captivated me to the point I thought that if I imitated him while speaking with Larrea, this in his report would declare me unfit.

            Being the situation in the world with the existence of two confronted blocks in Europe, communist and capitalist; being king of Spain a dummy king, Juan Carlos de Borbón y Borbón, of the Borbón that have been more than three centuries now massacring the revolutions that there were so far; being president of the government Adolfo Suárez, a fascist with a resume of 17 years in the Movimiento, I might not train to fight in an army that was not communist. I didn’t want to do military service in an army whose captain general was the dummy Borbón but as infiltrated in the case, what for to say anything more. Well, yes, there were people who did it although they didn’t like the captain general, I refer to people who were with us always, and who knew revolution would be some day. I chose to study English in England, going on reading selected literature and writing some essays now and then. More yet: I was a soldier, a revolutionary soldier, an activist; I mean, I had been already, I had been always.

            In 1979 I went to England, to Bell College of Saffron Walden, Essex, for the autumn term. Until then I had only studied English some days in the USA Cultural Centre in Madrid and a couple of weeks at International House in Piccadilly Street, very near to Hyde Park Corner and to Pont Street. English language had always exerted on me a challenging influence, because in Colegio Latino all boys and girls classroom mates studied English and the ones who studied French could not attend English lessons, even I tell you I think it was only me, for I do not remember any boy or girl mate of French. Pilar and I bought the air tickets to London the following day that in Manuel’s TV lounge they happily spoke about me, between Manuel, Margarita and Carlos, so happily that although I was not paying much attention, I inferred they took for granted not one of the two dummy king’s daughters, but both, were being offered to me, to the extreme of seeing how Margarita could not contain an involuntary movement of her elbow which meant: Well, they are delivered already, and I heard Manuel saying we had Leopoldo already visiting cathedrals, thus, in the plural. At that moment I didn’t say anything, but next day I went to pay in advance my staying for the autumn term at Bell College and bought the air tickets with Pilar. Snob Carlos Zurita was stunned when Manuel told him I was going to be in England. I travelled with Pilar in a plane where was travelling too Miguel Bosé, the known Spanish pop singer, son of bullfighter Luis Miguel Dominguín and actress Lucía Bosé. I had met up Paola, Miguel’s sister, and also their father in Royalty discotheque, where a girl friend, Macarena Loma, had taken me to an evening, and we were alone Luis Miguel Dominguín and his companion, a beautiful girl, at a table, and Macarena and I at another, because there were nobody else. During the flight Pilar had asked me several times to introduce myself to Miguel. I laughed and said I would not. When we got to Heathrow’s airport and were disembarking I greeted Miguel and introduced Pilar to him. I told him Pilar was committed to know him during the flight, that I knew Paola, and I didn’t have time to tell him about the evening his father and I and our beautiful girls companions had been the lonely clients of Royalty. Pilar gave me a big present on our journey to London in taxi: a gold and silver fountain pen which left me fascinated by the enchantment of surprise. In London we said goodbye to each other at Victoria Station. She was going to Sheffield and I to Audley End, nearest train station to Bell College of Saffron Walden.

            I took it with interest the studies of the English language and as complementary activities I chose English Literature, Photography and Drawing. The reading of a daily chapter of a book about the founding by two brothers of a corpse inside their deliverances truck left me like abstracted that autumn. English Literature lessons turned interesting, but although it may seem normal to me I was surprised when the teacher began speaking about Shakespeare first day and mentioning at once kings in the world can be removed. I knew something more already about Shakespeare from Jorge Luis Borges and for me too it wasn't agreeable someone had distorted the history to be the star of an asses kiss ceremony for Queen Elizabeth and King Jacob. I had the idea that in fact in his Sonnets Shakespeare is a disgusted lover who leaves the door opened to a morbid denouement. I made boys and girls friends. With an Italian girl, Cristina Lipanje, and her sister María we made a trip to Cornwall, Ricardo Rodríguez and I. We went to Saint Michael’s Castle, to Penzance, to Land’s End, to Tintagel. In the college we didn’t lose no program of Top of the Pops on Thursdays; more yet, I think almost nobody lost them because the TV lounges we full when it went on. To someone who had seen there were a lot of books on my room’s shelves and had asked me what for I wanted so many books I reminded him we were at a very expensive college and if I wanted to make parties and flirt with girls or drink I may do it as well. Alejandro Mora, a Spaniard nephew of the Queen of Belgium tried to assassinate me poisoning me. I came back to Madrid for Christmas at the end of the term.

            Manuel and I read the newspapers every day. As a general rule he read the ABC, and like I had suspected, after a quick glance on the first page, pictures and headlines, he searched for the pages where the obituaries appeared. I read El País, of a tendency more objective, where some members of the Spanish Communist Party already legalized by then wrote too. As I read I was seeing myself protagonist of the revolutionary action I would propose, how not, to assault the Congress with Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge at the head of the revolutionary movement in Spain. The terrorist actions carried out in Spain by ETA and GRAPO against monarchy, against government and against international capitalism were very frequent and kept me alert. Anyway, although if someone wants to oppose for a sake whatever that terrorism is virulence by some people’s whim and root of hatred, in reality it is as we well know a way to face imperialism, fascism, bourgeoisie, and therefore invasions and genocides, origin of famines and refugees camps, and therefore arrogance and avarice, evils that promote misery and poverty, and also a way to obligate the media to spread the idea of the struggle.

            In February 1980 I went back to England again, I went to Ramsgate, Kent, to Regency Hotel School, where I saw the microfilm of terrorist actions carried out by my father, my brothers and my comrades in Spain, and also by other members of the International Communist Party in other places in the world, by the allies army during Second World War and sequences of the Russian army in Afghanistan war. Apart from the big intensity with which I contemplated the explosion of the bomb over Hiroshima, two filmed executions ignored by the masses by then left me a trace that would accompany me always: the one of Czar Nikolai Romanov and his family, ordered by Lenin, and the one of Hitler and Eva Braun in the bunker of Berlin, ordered by Stalin.

           Even before I saw the microfilm in Ramsgate I had made use of my powers in Madrid, for I had expressly gone to a workers demonstration in Serrano Street, very near to Manuel’s, and had levitated the demonstrators with the intention of letting them know we were quite a few injecting sap in the revolutionary soul. Manuel had been commissioned to sink the dummy Borbón King for me to realise I had it easier than I thought when he told me a guy to whom the dummy was going to suck him off his cock in La Zarzuela palace had punched him in the face and after he had broken up the palace swimming pool glass-windows before he went away, and that the guy had filmed the scene entire. Manuel had told me too what had happened to the dummy and to his father in Estoril, Portugal, when the dummy and his wife Sofía of Greece were Prince and Princess of Asturias in times of dictator Franco; namely, that a wealthy Portuguese, Almeida his surname, had invited twee child Felipe de Borbón y Grecia to spend the evening in his house; the dummy and his father had taken the child to Almeida’s house; Almeida had told the dummy and his father he had paid their diner and a big quantity of roulette chips in the casino. Bourbons father and son had tried to order à la carte in the casino’s restaurant on Almeida’s account, they could not, so then they tried a menu and could not either, they had to pay the diner or they wouldn’t be served; finally, with their stomachs empty they went to the roulette and asked the croupier. They had to go away desperate from the casino, to pick up the child at Almeida’s house. There they were told Almeida had taken back the child to the stammering Bourbons house. When Almeida gave back the child it occurred to princess Sofía to ask him for money, and Almeida had said to the wretched princess better if the child paid to him; and Almeida had filmed everything.

            So much information Manuel gave me about kings and queens, chiefs of state, politicians and other characters with sexual vices it fit in to me he did it for me to take advantage of it. It didn’t go well for all presidents of France, for king Hassan II of Morocco, for queens of England, Holland and Denmark, for Baudouin of Belgium, for Gustav Adolf of Sweden, and already at this, by extension no character was free of these Manuel wanted me to know something to take it into account. The affair had started even before I was installed in his house at Jorge Juan Street. We had gone to a fashionable restaurant in Castelló Street. At a table near ours was, Manuel said to me, Enrique Múgica Herzog with another diner. I asked Manuel who he was. He said to me that in the general elections he would become a member of parliament and he supposed that later a minister. I remember first thing I said was why he had taken me to a restaurant where there were PSOE’s members that may be assassinated any moment. Manuel asked me who would want to kill a candidate to Congress. I told him ETA and GRAPO. He said to me he would not believe it. I told him I wanted too. He started laughing and then he told me Enrique Múgica Herzog had a brother who was a sissy too. Gosh, I said to myself, we had already two brothers involved in films that will sink them down. Years after ETA killed the brother. He was member of parliament, minister of Justice and Deffender of the People with PSOE's governments.

            It was after having been to Ramsgate and as a consequence of having some sequences of the microfilm registered in my mind that I complained to Manuel with wounding sarcasm towards our neighbours for the so often Carlos and Margarita came into his house by the communication door in the kitchens. Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo was proposed president of the Spanish government by Adolfo Suárez, president until then, who had resigned. Of course, my brother Miguel had killed already fascist Ana in the potatoes truck and the landscape for the police and for the family of the dummy king had turned very uncomfortable. During the investiture session of Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo in Congress Tejero had assaulted gun in hand the Congress and had had detained the members of parliament all night before every body’s stupefaction. Still in Ramsgate, like many people knows, I had written the nine pages in English about myself trying the rebellion of the people against the dummy king with the clear and simple message of my wanting to write a play to surpass Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Not only that I wrote down Julieta instead of Juliet so that there was a common link between the name of the girlfriend and that of the terrorist group ETA, but also the name of the boyfriend turned to have several possibilities. In the first place Romero, Alfonso Romero, to whom I had in mind, although as if in a cloud, but sure I had seen him shooting up two policemen in a car. That is, Romero and ETA. On the other hand, Romanov, family I had seen being shot, and therefore it is shooting the Czar and his family, the Romanovs, and ETA. Besides, Rome after Roma in English was the birth place of the dummy king, of who I did make fun with sly humour on my nine pages. Well then, Rome and ETA. Rome represented to me the union of all poor people and world workers and Manuel had taken me to see in Rome the workers demonstration on 1 May 1978, and ETA the terrorist group where each one of its members is a Euskadi's Red Army soldier and therefore internationalist.

            When Manuel noticed my revolutionary impetus led me to exteriorise my desire to rebel, instead of quieting me down he inflated me with information he knew I would take into account in a future not far. South Africa’s apartheid, the situation in Africa, in Central and South America, in Ireland, in Palestine, in Iran and in some Asian countries gave him a lot of reasons to hint to me some day all these countries would finish by developing a revolutionary process and taking revenge on their potential enemies, how not, on the USA and allies invaders, genocides, promoters of famines, of slavery, consenters of misery and poverty. He spoke to me about De Beers’ family, Dutch Jews who controlled 90 % of the total market of diamonds in the world, who became wealthier at the expense of South Africa especially, and about a New York Street known as the Jews jewelleries street. In my mind appeared at once the image of black race terrorists shooting up against jewelleries and jewelleries clients of such a chic street. Well, for the Definite Book it would be a poignant revolutionary action and the evidence of deeds of sublime learning for everyone. I told Manuel what I had in mind. He breathed heartily and mentioned Fort Knox, Langley and all millionaires on the Forbes list would be biblical targets too.

            Even so, and after all deeds that assured me I was going to be the leader of Spanish revolution, I went to England twice again, to Malvern Wells, Worcestershire, and to London’s south, to East Croydon. Moreover, I felt already admired by parents, brothers, comrades, members of the Spanish Communist Party and of the International Communist Party and by all up on the news about what was happening. Until the day came that I said to snob Carlos Zurita Spain was going to be a Republic. Carlos said to me he didn’t know whether Spain was going to be a Republic or not, and he asked me: Why do you say it will be? Because a girl Ana her name died in my brothers’ truck. What has it to do with? asked me the snob. Of course, a short time before this Carlos had entered in our house and had tried make us accomplices of the murder of the mother of queen Sofía, Federica ex queen of Greece, to whom the family of the dummy king had liquidated to compensate the assassination of fascist Ana. And so by the way make us feel ourselves as though we were in an unreal world from where we escape in all cases. Well we may consider ourselves protagonists of the deeds and the people witness since then. There were many people letting them hide this misery. What was my case? It was clear I had a powerful position and the dummy king died of desire of my marrying any of his daughters, being able to choose between the two, that was the height of control.

            Being Manuel historian, lawyer and antiquarian, paintings expert, I had many opportunities of enriching myself from his knowledge, and so it was. I did not only read authors and titles he advised me to but we also shared a same attitude regarding pedantry and meanness incarnated in the chief of the state, the dummy king, in the president of the government, the Suárez with a curriculum of 17 years in the Movimiento, and later in Leopoldo Calvo-Sotelo, monarchist militant. The one who knows almost as much as I do or the same I do, about what Manuel told me with respect to chiefs of state, kings and queens, presidents of Republics, politicians, journalists and characters, will smile thinking in this novel fragmented in episodes I always keep information and details that shall be found in other novel’s episodes. Of course in this fragment I am going to include information interesting or important to the extreme of being capable of forcing the volition and the action of the enemies the capitalists. I will say that relating reigning families’ stories and ladies and knights of high rank amongst the many Manuel told me, he told me that the oldest ancestor of Queen Elizabeth II of England had been Hrólf the Walker, Hrólf Ganger, misfit Norwegian chieftain who went to exile with his army and they crossed Europe from Norway to Neustria, in France, Normandy since then. A little after when buying books in Turner bookshop Manuel gifted me Isaac Asimov’s book The Shaping of England, where the story appears. The truth is cartoons of Prince Charles of Wales, son of the Queen Elizabeth of England, with the ears he has makes everybody laugh. Manuel told me that both queen Elisabeth and prince Charles had sent a personal handwritten letter to Isaac Asimov being grateful to him for having mentioned their ancestors in the book The Shaping of England. He told me that the oldest ancestor of the Duchess of Alba had been a so-called James, steward of the king of Scotland, who gave his son the name Fitz-James Stuart; that is, Bastard Son of Mine Steward James. We laughed remembering our encounter at Cerebro discotheque and the son of the Duchess of Alba doing the fool. He told me the oldest ancestor king of the dummy Borbón had been Hugo Capeto, the dummy Spanish king in fact Habsburg-Loraine branch of Bourbons. Queen Sofía used as name Sofía of Greece, but was a Hohenzollern, a bloody and cruel Prussian family. Constantine of Greece, brother of matricide Sofía, had been removed from the Greek throne in a coup d'état. He told me about Carlos Martel, majordome of the last Merovingian king of France and killer of the king and his family. In Turner too I bought Isaac Asimov’s book High Middle Age. Clear it is, we were much better and healthier, of course, the many who knew the Bourbons were big worms. 

        Relating popular heroes Manuel knew encouraged me we could not but praise the terrorist actions of Carlos Ilich Ramírez, Venezuelan of communist family, above all when he carried out the audacious kidnapping of the OPEC leaders in Viena, Austria. From there Carlos went to France. I told Manuel first day I had installed at his house I had come out with my camera and I had taken a picture of Claudio Coello Street from very near the corner taking in the street up to its horizon, and that I had been in the basement where they had placed the bomb that went off plain on the car of president of government Luis Carrero Blanco, during Franco’s dictatorship, one day before the attack occurred, with a friend who had taken me there (Jorge), and that I could have seen the hole in the wall through which they had placed the bomb. With Manuel I watched the film Reds, based in Russian Revolution, and I saw him moved when the workers masses sang the International at demonstrations. With Manuel I watched on TV Orson Wells’ film Viva Zapata!, and Manuel and I wept when Emiliano Zapata was wildly and cruelly killed in the final scene.

            I know very likely Manuel has left memoirs in which I appear like some kind of hero, for I had not only not given chance of inviting me twice to visit Moncloa’s palace, I had repudiated the king’s daughters too, nor I did want to meet princesses of Monaco in Mallorca, then singles Carolina and Stéphanie, but also he had been co-pilot in the car with which I put out of the highway going in the opposite direction at 300 km/h all the retinue of cars of the Saudi Arabian royal family members who had the intention of spending two months Summer in Marbella, killing most of the members of the retinue, whose cars were taken out from the highway between the loud crash of mortal accidents. Of course, he knew at its time I had written propagandistic essays against the new Spanish Constitution, against the entry of Spain in the NATO and against the entry of Spain in capitalist Europe, pleading for armed struggle to face the attempt of Capital to corrupt the masses. One day I told him I had seen the air attack over the town of Guernica at Fernando Cotoner's apartment. He told me Santiago Carrillo Solares, general secretary of the Spanish Communist Party, communist member of parliament in Congress to whom so much some insisted in accusing of the fusillades in Paracuellos del Jarama during the civil war, was political officer in the Republican faction at his 21. I was 22 already.

            Once I had seen the microfilm in Ramsgate my communication with Manuel was more direct, for I had in mind all the time my three comrades waiting for me inside the car at Mirasierra Street in Usera, our quarter, such as I had seen them in the microfilm, and although we didn’t speak about it Manuel had realised already too I had enriched my powers, because I used my chin and my eyes to rouse levitations at his place, the truth is they spoke about grounds movements and earthquakes in Madrid too. Some time he asked me directly not to move the TV room, for I was doing it on purpose from behind him. So more direct that he was invited to go to La Zarzuela palace and when he was going to come out already to the palace I said to him it was a big opportunity to kill the dummy king. He asked me: How? With a gun, I replied. Such as we have just seen in the movie. Actually, we had been watching a movie in which a man kills another in a study. Come on, Manuel, it cannot go wrong, I said to him smiling. He smiled back, took up a briefcase and ran his finger over his lip before coming out.

            I call it Day D Hour H on my diaries, that is the moment of the start of world’s Revolution against Capital for which we have prepared for a long time. I had had already warned that apart from being stinging in our speeches and hurtful and offensive against Capital, we had caused havoc among the Revolution enemies with films and recordings of big collapses as human beings, to the extreme of being us able of provoking among them mental collapses that will obligate them to disappear killing themselves without remedy. Yes, I had warned it too, a huge deluge will punish the enemies of the people’s common soul and of the impetus of the working class. Session of films and recordings of grands seigneurs and grandes madames and characters greedy for riches, the deluge after the session and after the deluge the final attack against the enemies of Revolution, and the enemies of Revolution protagonists in a great bewilderment before our impulse and seeing two things at the same time: a final attack and their mental chaos.

            Not by chance I have always had the fixed idea of leading revolution in Spain and spread it on the entire world, and you can make yourselves an idea of how I should feel when at 22 I saw the microfilm, knowing myself president of the Spanish Communist Party and of the International Communist Party. When I came back to my parents’ house, I used to go to the low wall in Santuario Street and waited the arriving of a car with Alfonso, Pablo and Jorge, and if they didn't come I waited to meet them up at some quarter’s street or at someone’s place, and I went to Mirasierra Street several times. I have also waited for them at the low wall there was in the square in old times, or I saw them sitting on some of the square’s benches or on the bench just beside my front door or in my house. And as I do well know that finally we shall meet up and they will enrich my powers to fight for Revolution, I put all my energies in getting prodigies in the meanwhile. Some of the quarter’s guys ask me to move the moon for them or to get them flashes of the sun or to levitate people in contact with the ground. I know, I rather always knew, my parents and my brothers, my comrades, the members of the Spanish Communist Party and of the International Communist Party and the highest scientific authorities in the world, since I manifested myself gifted with powers, would force the capitalists countries causers of the many evils of the world to not be capable of other but surrender before the pushing of the poor and the working class and would recognise me as a presence in the world with courage and self-esteem, in search of paradise, of life in harmony, of workers self-government, of the simple benefits of communism: Justice, Equality, Fraternity, Peace, Order, Happiness.