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Gibraltar's National Dish
Telephone conversations between Cloti and Cynthia
Que juntera, my dear!
I must say that those banners of our Queen that have
emerged on our Rock look quite something.
If you ask me, Cynthia mia, I would send a copy to the new Spanish
foreign minister, el cocky Margallo.
What a jolly idea, dear Cloti. It might bring him back to his senses
and realise that our Gibraltar is ours.
Pero este Margallo le quiere amarga el life of not only our people
but also los del Campo area.
If you think about it, we should lodge a claim in the United Nations
for the Campo de Gibraltar, after all it must have been ours.
Claro que si. Pero este quiere meter en los talks a la Junta.
Que juntera mas rara, my dear. I mean, we are British forever.
Te dire que lo primero que tiene que aceptar el Margallo es que los
tri-lata talks are three-sided, that is, el Governation nuestro, el
UK government y el Spanish gobierno.
Of course, porque como quieran ir tambien los seven alcaldes del
Campo we would end con unos talks that would never end, con tanto
hablar by so many. Y entonces tendriamos que mandar nosotros el
alcalde de la Caleta.
El cuento de nunca acabar, I must say.
What looks like not ending is the tunnel that never was under the
runway, and just as well. Imagine if we had to do a tunnel like the
one under el English Channel, it would take 300 years.
Bueno hija, that's what we have to do, stretch everything to another
300 years, porque my forefathers are buried here y este Rock no se
lo doy a nadie - y al cocky Margallo memos que menos.
On that note, let's wish each other the best of British luck.
Eso, British luck to you, too, turulu.
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