My Spanish Knackers

One thing you don’t see as much of in Spain is little knackers/scangers or yoofs hanging around corners. Same with young single mothers. A sixteen year old with a kid in Dublin is commonplace  but over here it would make the papers.

I’ve analysed it a lot. The ‘no-go’ areas in Murcia are sort of pleasant compared to any block of flats in Dublin, I’ve yet to feel intimidated or scared at any time over here. Mostly because I think Spanish men can’t fight. I’m not exactly Superfly Jimmy Snuka but I think I could beat up just about every bloke I’ve met, they just don’t seem to have that edge that you need in Dublin at night.

This isn’t a dissertation on the social breeding aspect of Spanish knackers but just a quick pass at the subject. Our apartment looks towards the mountains, it’s beautiful and calm. But last summer I had to change bedrooms becasue a bunch of knackers (or garrulos in Spanish) were sitting out on the street drinking all night and fighting over their prowess in some car racing game on the PS3. A few of them live in our building and seem friendly enough when I give them the nod. I always say ‘Alright?’ or ‘ Story?’ to them just like an Irish scanger would and they respond.  This is what your bottom wrung knacker looks like:

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago an ambulance was called and as I was taking out the bin I could hear the paramedic talking to one of them about somebody overdosing and the two lads spoke back in the unmistakable croaky tone of a Dublin gear head. Last year they were just into beer and weed and whooped it up all night but now they’re all into smack. And you know what? I’m delighted. They’re still there every night but not a peep out of them now. The occasional desperate laugh now and then but other than that not a word out of them.

My little knackers have graduated.

Posted in Blog, illustrated blogs, Spain by Bob on Jul 20th | 3 Comments