The Grand Prix heifer moos in the controversy of Lalachus and the Sacred Heart: “It’s not that big of a deal”

In the contemporary world, where the shadows of solemnity dissipate under the stridency of humor and spectacle, a joke thrown into the air can become a moral crusade. This has happened with Lalachus, comedian of the program La Revuelta and recent co-presenter of TVE’s chimes with David Broncano. The comedian has also become the center of a storm that feeds on tension and ideological trenches and in some way benefits from structuring a large part of her speech as a response to a handful of unpresentable people who disqualify her for being overweight.

The gesture that set off the alarms was nothing more than a programmed irreverence: a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, but with the unmistakable head of the Grand Prix heifer. A visual joke, innocuous for some, sacrilegious for others, which crossed the limits of what was admissible, according to its detractors, on the battlefield of religious feelings. Christian Lawyers, an organization known for its strict policing of spiritual decorum, soon filed a formal complaint against Lalachus and the president of RTVE, José Pablo López, for an alleged hate crime.

According to the association, the gesture would constitute “a clear contempt and mockery of the rites and symbols of Catholicism”, a “vexation” that, they argue, hurts the feelings of believers. In a world where social networks are the coliseum of new disputes, there was no shortage of flames fanned by those who saw the gesture as an affront, and the harassment campaign against the comedian did not take long to unfold in all its virulence.

Satire as a frontier of scandal

Humor, which historically has served to expose the impostures of power, seems to have entered a danger zone where some winks can be taken as a blow. The case of Lalachus falls within that fine line in which satire, once seen as a liberating expression, becomes an object of reproach and even litigation.

But the scene is not limited to the symbolic game of the print. The Grand Prix, that once summer program that marked generations with its rural challenges and its endearing heifer, has once again occupied an unexpected space in the Spanish cultural imagination, this time as the involuntary protagonist of a struggle between the profane and the sacred. That the head of a competition heifer serves as a substitute for the Sacred Heart of Jesus is, for the complainants, an affront. For others, a prank intended to bring smiles and, perhaps, de-dramatize the untouchable.

The unexpected support of the heifer

In the midst of the hurricane, when expletives and defenses begin to pile up like grains of sand on the beach, an unexpected figure emerges in defense of Lalachus: none other than the Grand Prix heifer. The famous mascot, played by Miguel del Pozo, did not want to stay out of the debate, sending a knowing wink from his social network account X (formerly Twitter).

The photograph, taken in the run-up to the Three Kings Parade in Madrid, shows Del Pozo in full bovine incarnation holding a mobile with the controversial image of Lalachus. A clearly humorous gesture, which seeks to deflate the solemnity of the controversy. However, there have been no shortage of those who have warned the young man from Madrid about the risks of getting involved in a controversy of this nature.

Far from being intimidated, Miguel del Pozo has responded simply: “Nothing, it’s not a big deal, I think. Thank you.” These words sum up the spirit of a man who, in addition to being the most famous heifer in Spain, has been working as a warehouse boy in a Bosch factory for two decades, is an athlete and also embodies Delfín Ramiro, mascot of the Estudiantes basketball team.

The battle for symbols

What on the surface should be nothing more than an anecdotal episode, reveals something deeper: an increasingly polarized society, in which symbols have become throwing weapons. While some see the print as blasphemy, others interpret it as a satirical criticism, a reminder that not even the sacred should be shielded from humor.

The dilemma is not new. Since modernity broke the chains of single thought, humor has been the favorite means to question what is presented to us as unquestionable. However, in recent times, heightened sensitivity has led to any gesture that touches the margins of the spiritual being seen as a personal or collective attack.

Christian Lawyers, in their complaint, speaks of “outrage” and “vexation.” For its members, what happened is not just an unfortunate joke, but a deliberate affront to religious sentiments. At the center of their argument is article 525 of the Penal Code, which punishes acts that publicly offend the religious beliefs of a community. Whether or not this gesture fits within such a definition will be the task of the courts.

The heifer, Lalachus and the social mirror

The support of Miguel del Pozo and his heifer alludes to something more than a humorous defense. They represent the vindication of a popular tradition that, although marked by nostalgia and simplicity, does not renounce irony or the right to laugh at itself. If the heifer’s head on the Sacred Heart image is offensive, it seems less a matter of religion than of cultural rigidity.

Lalachus, with his caustic and provocative humor, represents a new generation of comedians who challenge the limits imposed by what is politically correct and what is sacrosanct. Her joke contains, perhaps without intending it, a reflection on the weight of symbols in our society. How much power do we give them? Where do we draw the line between criticism and grievance?

For now, the comedian faces a legal battle that could set precedents on the limits of satire in Spain. On social networks, the trenches are dug, and each side wields its weapon: some, the offense; others, freedom of expression. Among all the noise, the figure of the heifer, with its bovine gaze and its sly wink, seems to remind us that not everything in life needs to be so serious.

In a world where even jokes can inflame the collective spirit, perhaps what we need is not less humor, but rather learning to laugh, even at ourselves.