Me, I’ve never been to Albacete. Well, there’s a lot of places in this old withering world I’ve never been, but anyway; Albacete is one of them. And maybe I’ll never go there.

Not only have I grown a bit lazy, not wanting to see too many new and adventurous places, sticking to what is familiar, well known and safe. Like Kolding or La Herradura. Take a short shopping visit to Vejle or Almuñécar and get your ass home quickly.

No, it’s not only the laziness, though it is there, I’ll admit. It’s the reputation of some places, that keeps me from going there. “There’s hardly anything as swinging as Bjerringbro by night”, as the great Danish bard, C.V. Jørgensen, sings with an irony as thick as the dust and the mud on the stretch from Paris to Roubaix. That song always kept me from going to Bjerringbro; a small town in the dark, quiet, middle of the country, where they do tractor races and stuff. Give me Kolding or La Herradura anytime.

I don’t think, C.V. Jørgensen ever wrote a song about Albacete, but there is an old Spanish saying: “Albacete, caga y vete.” Somewhat less poetic than See Venice and Die, but we’re in that sort of category. It’s more like “See Albacete, go to the latrine, do what you have to do and get your ass home quickly”. So why go to Albacete at all? I can have my bowels relieved so many other places in this old war-ridden world. Take for example Kolding or La Herradura.

Poor Albacete, what have they done? I’m sure it’s a wonderful place, and there’s probably nothing swinging like Albacete by night. Still, old sayings are hard to neglect. Especially after a group of young, fancy, Madrid public-relations students took up the old saying, using it for – yes, a campaign to avoid cancer in the bowels.

That just did it for me. I won’t travel too far to see toilets and tractors. Tractor racing and latrine goings on are not too attractive to me. Not really.

Nor is hooliganism attractive to me. Some time ago, I wrote in this column about some other country’s football hoodlums and latrine-heads. Well, now I have to stick to the truth and tell you, that we have it too. Not in national football, that’s still all joy, comradeship and happy partying. But the major clubs! That’s a totally different thing.

Lately there was an episode at a match between the capital rivals Brøndby and FC Copenhagen. The former’s fans went amock in violence, intimidation and vandalism. There’s hardly anything as swinging as football by night or day. Some of these halfwits just haven’t understood that.

No, I’ll probably never go to Bjerringbro nor Albacete. And I will definitely never, ever; no way, no, Sir, go to Brøndby. Not even to go to the latrine.

(News/Editorial: Jes Rasmussen’s Danish Corner)