La Corinna and La Corona

La Corinna who´s with La Corona

It seems I´m the last to know.

Despite my last post on Monsters Together, I´ve missed something rather monstrous that has apparently been un secreto a voces (an open secret) around the Big, Bad Capital City and in the foreign press.

It´s something that makes perfect sense, however.

Sex.

In all machinations in the mire, sex is usually well-mudded in among the Swiss bank accounts, undeclared palaces and private jets of the enfangados (up to their eyeballs in mud ones).

And in the current corruption case against the King´s son-in-law, Iñaki Mangarín (pilferer), I mean Urdangarín, the sex element has the habitual, stereotypical shape of a blonde, social climber with an exotic name and an occupation that defies definition.

Turns out that “she” is the tasty little Frankfurter in the delicatessen of chorizos that is contemporary Spain, a self-styled, German “Prinzessen” Corinna zu Sayn-Wittgenstein (a magnificent moniker which literally translates from the German, of course, as “you´re not totally sane, are you, Witty?”).

This German “aristocrat” with the rumbustious title borrowed unscrupulously from a previous marriage victim has obviously eschewed the inscrutable philosophy of her namesake, Ludwig Wittgenstein, in favour of a completely practical approach to life: bed a monarch.  So the forty-something, trout-pouting, Barbie Doll princess is the current, PVC plaything of the Spanish Crown, Juan Carlos I of Spain.

Since I don´t watch gossip programmes or read the prensa rosa (except at the hairdresser´s) I didn´t know that the Prinzessin had organized the King´s hip-crunching, elephant-murdering trip to Botswana. Or that she was with him on that trip, stopping just short of climbing into the hospital bed with him.

I don´t tend to care about these sex things, despite their effect on the Queen (see La Soledad de la Reina). But I do care about corruption and it turns out that the Princess, the King and Iñaki Urdangarín, while perhaps not quite in the same bed together (though rumour has it that Iñaki has followed the road well-travelled by the soberano sobón, the feely-uppy sovereign), have been in “business” together.

Take the letter that Iñaki Urdangarín, the self-signed Duque Empalmado (cute word-play on his title of Duke of Palma and estar empalmado, to have a hard on) wrote to Corinna in his primary school English to thank her for setting up a fictitious post of Chairman in a sports Foundation for him, with a remuneration of €250,000 per annum for doing absolutely nothing.

“Dear Corinna,

Thank you for your new rapport that you sent me a few days ago. I imagine the effort that you and Guy have done.

Sorry for my silence along these days but I wanted to check with my father in law and Alberto Aza as well before give you feed-back.

I am studding your proposal with a lot of care and I imagine that following days we will meet us to deal the project.

Thank you again and big kiss,

Iñaki Urdangarín”.

Clearly, the Urdangarín mudtrail leads all the way to the Casa del Rey. Perhaps this is why the un-hip, stumbling King with his two walking sticks refuses to abdicate despite falling flat on his face in more ways than one.

Because without the Crown to hide behind, we´d get him, as well as his “studding” nephew.