San Isidro Fair: Madrid must come with bulls! | Culture

Juan Ortega, Pablo Aguado, Juan Pedro Domecq and the entrepreneurs of Plaza 1 should fall as shame for the infumable, denigrant and caricaturesco show of the celebration of this Saturday turned into the deception of the fair.

All of them should return what was charged and reintegrate it to the almost 23,000 spectators who paid their entrance and have given them a cat for a hare, teddy dolls for bulls.

Nobody has been able to surprise the sound failure of the iron announced because its recent history is curdled with infumable afternoons and unpresentable tortes, as sweet as invalid, although it has been unfairly chosen as the best run (the least bad) in the opinion of a couple of jurors of the last April Fair.

If it is true that the farmer knows what he has in the field, Mr. Domecq knew before all the others the manifest disability of his bulls; And the company knew, and, of course, they had more than assumed the two ‘artists’ that were announced with them.

To Madrid you have to come with bulls, Juan Ortega and Pablo Aguado. To Madrid and any square, but above all to this, which is the world’s reference of bullfighting. You can not pretend to be a figure with piltrafas, with cute dressed in black, with a parade of animals without stamp, strength and not a single gout of caste brave.

The two bullfighters have made the most frightening of the ridiculous and have said loudly that they intend to be cherries to decorate posters, but they will never send or win as figures.

And they do not redeem their brushstrokes with the cape with the cape, varied and pregnant with packaging; Ortega wore, first, with six very glance and two means to receive his first; a chicuelinas remove in the third, and another by temperate tafalleras in the fifth; Aguado did the same for aprons and a long precious one in which he opened a place, Chicuelinas in the third and Veronic in the room. It was all that Domecq bulls allowed. And there was no more.

There was, by the way, third of itchors, or flags due to the lack of the background of the bulls, and the maleta tasks were all reduced to an infamous cartoon of what could be the art of bullfighting. Birrioso the first, a soul in sorrow the second, the third, listed the fourth and lifeless the fifth. There were the two bullfighters trying what they knew it was impossible; Ortega listened to a warning in the fifth, and Aguado put flamenco with a displacement at the end of his work in the room. Seeing is believing!

The sixth era of Torrealta (Juan Pedro could not even gather a complete run) and was not infected with the unvoyance of his runner shops. He was wrong that well in rods, he went with some lender in flags, and allowed Aguado to show off in a bunch of beautiful natural distributed in three batches in which the bull collaborated with a more insulse nobility than that of the training cart.

The square pulled with crutches with euphoria excessive after the firecracker lived and asked for the ear for the Sevillian.

But that neither of them is wrong: Madrid you have to come with bulls, an indispensable condition to cease to be expendable cherries of the cake of others.