Aquest article no estÓ tradu´t al catalÓ; es mostra la seva versiˇ en anglŔs

On a good friend's reaction to a bit of anti-Catalan bullshit.


Last Sunday, me and Max, my best friend in London and the entire UK, for that matter, arranged to meet up at the Apple Store in Regent Street. When I got there, he ess-em-essed me to say he'd be a little late. Already a touch homesick after a couple of days in London, I decided to look at a Barcelona newspaper on one of the demonstration MacBooks.
Max showed up as I was browsing the sports section: 'Anything of interest?' I translated a headline: 'Schuster blames Madrid's defeat by Seville on the fact the referee was Catalan'. Max grimaced on the spot: 'Jesus, that's disgusting'. 'Oh,' I said, revelling in the blitheness 23 years of life in Catalonia has rubbed off on me, 'we get this shit all the time'.
Max had come across a little of it himself. His several Spanish friends in London were all great people, he said, but he only had to tell them he had a friend who lived in Catalonia, for them to instantly express facial disapproval and on occasion even urge Max to describe my home simply as Barcelona, thus avoiding the (for them) dreaded C-word.
Such prejudice aroused Max's interest to the extent that nowadays, whenever introduced to someone from Spain, he instantly mentions his English friend in Catalonia (taking care to stress the word). If the Spaniard in question winces or flinches, Max experimentally rubs it in by explaining that this friend of his also speaks Catalan. Should this elicit further negative reactions, Max goes the whole hog, adding that his friend (me) doesn't feel he's living in Spain, wants Catalan independence, writes in Catalan etc. etc. Having thus lit the touchpaper, Max stands calmly back and watches the fireworks, at once baffled and intrigued.

- Textos i contingut: Matthew Tree - Disseny i programaciˇ: Nac -