Carolina, treat me well, don’t laugh at me: the B-side of Pantoja’s prefabricated night in Monaco

It is not unusual in these times that the news is manufactured precisely to be told. The strange case of Isabel Pantoja in Monaco is a clear example. Before, things happened and appeared in the press. Now, information is generated in order to fill covers. The presence of the tonadillera in Monte Carlo is actually an artifice to justify her revival without her having to resort to family quarrels to put together her story and justify the cache of her exclusive.

But of course, the tentacles of the Montecarlo operation stunners are not enough for the Grimaldis to approach the artist and pose for the photo. They will try. As far as we know, Carolina has not treated Pantoja well. Rather it is that neither she nor she has found out that she was there. This story has a way B. By the way, except for the ruling family, who was working this Saturday, once we saw the entire list of the parading characters, we came to the conclusion that the Baile de la Rosa has a certain decadent air, a kind of Berlanga-style Monegasque version , but changing the tourists who visited the palace of the Marquis of Leguineche de la National Shotgun for those who sign up for 850 euros for dinner to get a selfie with the dance logo and 200 meters from Carolina.

Also read: How Pantoja achieved his invitation to the Ball of the Rose in Monaco, a showcase for image laundering

But everything has its explanation. The Sevillian tonadillera did not want to give an exclusive responding to the impious attacks of his son. That would have aroused interest and justified a juicy interview, but it would have meant entering the sordid game of insults and disqualification, losing the dominion that remains, getting up to the party telecinquera, thus feeding a new battery of responses from Kiko Rivera, what is canine of pasta and more since he suffered the veto imposed on his presence by Mediaset. He can no longer go every two by three to see Jorge Javier Vazquez and calling the woman who brought him into the world a “thief” and a “bad mother” and who left him or stole that poisoned inheritance, the most debated on television. The DJ, more recovered from the stroke he suffered on October 20, is already negotiating, supported by this resurgence of his mother, a paid intervention in a well-known media outlet. He doesn’t have it easy.

But Isabel Pantoja does not have plenty of money either. She has several fronts open and debts to pay and a farm to maintain. The American tour gives for what she gives. needed the widow of Paquirri, the widow of Spain, to be on a cover, maybe on two, and for that you have to put together a good excuse that justifies a good hidden If not, you’re going to give birth to someone, or you’ve gotten a boyfriend, or you’re getting married, or you’re going to cry about something, or, well, you have something to tell other than that you’re delighted with yourself and that you felt death a lot. of your mother. Mrs. Ana María Martín Villegas passed away two years ago in September.

We must praise the creativity of the professionals in charge of manufacturing the news, and perhaps the work of Augustine Pantoja, reviled by many but authentic manager and representative of her sister, although the singer has other advisors. The mere presence of Isabel on the cover of Hola it is news and sets the agenda, feeds programs and moves the hornet’s nest of the pink thing. We all win, but Pantoja can’t let her part of the cake escape.

A little push is enough to excuse Isabel’s presence on the front page of the weekly she usually visits to make money: a good photo session, and little else. The graphic report, indeed, is extraordinary; the weekly is painted for such things, as everyone knows. That icing on the Ball of the Rose was missing to round off the play.

The already told story of how Elizabeth received her invitation to go to dinner in Monaco It has an I don’t know what of artifice. To summarize, it is not credible that the real engine that has driven all this mess at La Pantoja in Monte Carlo is the admiration that Isa P.’s mother feels for the Welsh singer Shirley Bassey.

The official version says that Isabel wanted to meet the octogenarian British woman, author of three James Bond movie songs, and of whom the Sevillian version of her song This is my life. That desire of the tonadillera led to Augustine Pantoja to call his drag queen friend and convey to him the whim of his sister. The Catalan Manel Dalgó, With a house in Monaco and very well-connected in the principality, he is a friend of the 86-year-old Welsh singer, he puts his batteries together and takes her businessman husband out Thomas Schmieder he pastureland to bring Isabel and her brother to Monte Carlo, in addition to finding a translator for her, because Isabel only speaks Spanish, yes, with the exquisite Triana accent. They kill her at the Monopole hotel, a five-star hotel (although it has affordable rooms), they are paid the two covers, at a rate of 850 euros, and they find a table for them with her British friend, the one with the James Bond songs. To all this, the event coincides coincidentally with the end of Pantoja’s American tour and Hola, who finds out about calico, is encouraged to pay Isabel Pantoja for a private plane, the dress, and whatever arises.

Dear B

To begin with, it seems strange to us, knowing Isabel, that this woman leaves Cantora for free not even to get her nails done. It also seems strange to us, no matter how much admiration Pantoja feels for Shirley Bassey, that in order to meet this woman and propose her to do duets, she should get on a plane, go to Monaco, put on some chiffon dresses, pose in a photocall, greet with a smile, and dine at a table at Light years away from Caroline of Monaco and return to his farm of 500 hectares and 2,000 square meters built in Medina Sidonia. No way.

Here what moves and has always moved Pantoja are the bills. And the B side of this story consists of changing the cause-effect of the story: we look for an excuse that fits your dates so that you have something to tell, we take a photo of you and you tell us. No sooner said than done.