Francisco Ibáñez has left without receiving a Princess of Asturias, but his indelible cartoons remain with us. He leaves us Mortadelo and Filemón, Rompetechos and, needless to say, the property par excellence of children’s literature, 13, rue del Percebe. The cartoonist has been the subject of a lengthy tribute on social networks while the electoral campaign got even muddier.
Ibáñez was able to mix doses of social criticism with humor, so absent in this busy country. If the cartoonist had portrayed in his real estate the atmosphere on Twitter during these sweltering days of July, he would have represented Pedro Sánchez on the first left with a serious gesture. He is with a dog called “Perro Sánxe”, who says to him: “President, I like the nickname”.
On the first right, Ibáñez could have drawn Feijóo with a T-shirt that reads: “They’re not lies, they’re inaccuracies”. The ghosts of Silvia Intxaurrondo and Carlos Alsina flutter around the room pointing at him with a lamp and whispering to him that the PP did not always revalue pensions with the IPC.
On the second left, Yolanda Díaz could draw trying to score. But next to it is the ruling core of Podemos, visibly angry because the candidate does not have Montero, who knocks on the door but no one answers. Knives fly.
On the second right there would be Abascal. He carries a megaphone: “Either we enter the government or don’t count on us.” There is Meloni. An all-seeing eye with the EU flag looks trembling.
The third is a family home. New parents. The father teaches the son to say: “Que et voti Txapote”. The mother looks at the scene in astonishment. “If we sing it at the wedding or Sanfermines, the child will have to learn it”, he defends. The baby cries.
Ibáñez’s brilliant pen could also draw a diaphanous fourth floor. There are a lot of people. Young people who can’t pay the rent, a family that doesn’t make ends meet, the unemployed, the LGTBI group. They have a banner: “And when you plan to focus on what really matters?”.
At the very top of the building is Alcaraz, the current King Carlos of tennis, hugging his Wimbledon trophy. But a light blinds him. It’s Brad Pitt, lustrous in his 60s, eating potatoes in the stands in London.
The cartoon has a special guest. It is René Merino, a puppeteer who has drawn Mortadelo, Filemón and Rompetechos asking to enter heaven behind Ibáñez: “Can’t we go with him?”. But the doorkeeper stops them and exclaims: “You are immortal, I’m sorry”. Have a nice trip, Mr. Ibáñez.
