Spanish farmboy punk

A new musical genre, 100% 'made in Spain' is all the rage here, shooting up the charts and now being commented on in 'serious' newspapers (if you can call ABC serious...)
I call it Spanish farmboy punk. It comes complete with touches of flamenco, animal noises and almost impenetrable Andalusian dialect, and if it didn't exist you'd have to invent it. The band is El Koala, the current hit is 'Opa, viazé un corrá' (rough translation, Pa, I'm gonna build a pen), which is now everywhere - I heard it in Carrefour yesterday. The rest of the songs on the album deal with issues like the poor cockerel wh0's sad because he's about to be eaten ('Arroz con Gallo'); the life of an itinerant castrator ('soy capa'or'), and there's even social comment (nadie es nadie). Go on, check it out on www.elkoala.es and play the video clip. Spain is different.

Stop press: this tune has been chosen as Spain's TV anthem for their World Cup team. We're talking serious popular culture.....

Chorizo

Having bilingual kids can be a monumental challenge, but also downright hilarious.

Helen, 6, loves making her own story books. Yesterday's front cover showed a round pizza-like object edged with arrows and other "misoules". Inside was a woman with rays coming out from her head, and more round objects. What's this darling? I tenderly enquired. Oh, it's the king chorizo, and inside are all his other chorizos, and they're capturing men and ladies and MESSING WITH THEIR MINDS.

You're totally mad, I managed to say between guffaws. This stuff was weird but fairly par for the course (Helen is a one-off, to put it mildly).
Later, I was on the phone to a friend who appreciates Helen's weirdness but also speaks better Spanish than me. She collapsed in fits of laughter when I told her, and so did I when she enlightened me.
In Spanish, a 'chorizo' is not only a round spicy sausage, but also a thief or other criminal. Poor Helen had been playing a game at school with her Spanish friends, and totally got the wrong end of the sausage.

How Spanish is this?

Just a little snapshot of life in Spain. (I live 30km from Madrid but this could have happened anywhere).

Husband Javier, stressed out from the effort of helping put kids in bed, popped off for a drink in the tiny bar next to the railway station where all the richest local townsfolk hang out (builders, electricians, etc). There, amid a fug of smoke to go by the stink of his clothes later, he was chatting with our ex-plumber Mariano (but that's another story) about the village in La Mancha where he and family used to spend their summers. Belmonte? says Mariano, all excited - it's a big deal here when places and people can be put together - that's where the new Guardia Civil guy comes from! No kidding! says Javier, equally moved. And if this were England, that's where it would have ended.

Not in Spain. On his way home, J has to drive past the Guardia Civil station. So of course he stops to greet his Belmonte buddy, and he and Pedro have a lengthy chat about who they both know, who's died/got married etc ect, until at long last Pedro heaves a regretful sigh, and, waving his 'puro' (LARGE cigar) in farewell, says well, Javi, great to see you, must get together for a beer sometime but got to dash, got a 'detenido' (arrested suspect) downstairs in the cells and he might be wondering where I've got to.