I don't know what you thought the first time you saw the smiling face of our current Prime Minister, dear reader, but my true blue Tory mother was unequivocal in her verdict: "He looks soft", she said, a word which, in my Mama's vocabulary could mean either " fundamental absence of cojones" or "several patatas short of a full tortilla española". Well, eat my shorts mother dear, because it looks as though Señor José Luis Rodriguez Zapatero (or Señor Bean as he's known chez Elsdon due to his physical resemblance to Rowan Atkinson's monstrous creation) intends to kick more backsides than Arnie Schwarzenegger in The Terminator. In fact, he's already set out his stall by legalising gay marriages, an action that's sure to raise the hackles of Benedict XVI even as he dons his papal rig-out for the first time.
The tabloids tend to raise their eyebrows at this particularly controversial issue but having met several elderly gay British men who have been made homeless by their partners' siblings having a prior legal claim to property, whatever was carefully set out in the will. I can see the desperate need for this very basic human right. It would be a foolish person who dismissed the power of the pink pound, but not all gay couples are as financially well upholstered as Sir Elton and David Furnish.
Now, having passed this milestone on the road to a truly civilized modern Spain (and when will the British government decide to follow suit, I wonder?) Señor Bean has another target in his sights. Yes, folks - this man that my mother thought was 'soft' is going to take on that most obdurate of institutions, the Spanish macho male. I know! It's difficult to think about it without smiling, isn't it? And talking about grinning from ear to ear, now I know why Señora Zapatero always looks so chirpy; her hubby helps out round the house and, what's more, he expects the blokes of Spain to do the same.
Having been born in Wales at the beginning of the 1960s, a time when its men would sooner play hunt the thimble with Quentin Crisp than consider doing anything as shockingly effeminate as (and I whisper this in deference to my father) a household chore, or even take their offspring out for a walk in their pram, I can appreciate just how revolutionary this philosophy is. To be fair, most of the young Spanish males I encounter seem to be as proficient with a diaper as their partners, but this cooperation doesn't always extend to the kitchen...or the bathroom...or the loo.
Of course, as in his rubber-stamping of gay marriages, there is a far more serious side to Don José's quest to stamp out Spanish machismo; the national tally of serious domestic violence in 2005 is already well into the teens. If that's on our Prime Minister's mind then we can only be grateful that he's taking prompt action to prevent even more women from becoming punch bags.
A comparatively short time ago it was exceedingly difficult for couples to divorce in this staunchly Catholic country, yet now the PM is throwing his support behind the fast-track option, which will mean that within three months dissatisfied husbands and wives can legally sever their marital bonds. However, there is a catch; aggrieved wives will have the right to haul their domestically deficient spouses over the coals, raising issues such as their unwillingness to participate in housework, childcare and taking care of their ageing in-laws. Far from being a 'quickie' divorce, this devil in the detail will almost certainly turn the most civilized parting into a tortuous he said-she said battle that will take years to unravel.
In fact, it's the type of mayhem that wouldn't look out of place in an episode of Mr. Bean.
This article was first published in Spanish Life, May-June 2005 issue
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