🪠 'Plumber' Scandal Rocks PSOE

Plus: King Felipe's new gig at the Prado and yes, your allergies are getting worse.

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Jun 05, 2025

Madrid | Issue #105

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The ultimate political crossover episode

👹 Spain’s Wildest Scandal Just Turned Into ‘Alien vs. Predator’

Not on our bingo card. The last few months have been a scandalathon for Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s governing center-left PSOE party, with investigations into his wife, brother, a former Transport Minister—and a guy named Koldo.

No, you! Every time PSOE faced one of those Clinton-era “Bimbo Eruption”-style scandals, the center-right PP would cry, “Sánchez is destroying democracy!” and PSOE would fire back, “The far-right and its fake media hate progress!” And around we’d go.

But yesterday the scandal got delightfully weird as one scandal made a guest star appearance on another just like when the Predator and the Alien decided to do a crossover (fine, when their agents decided they should) by fighting for control of the same press conference. Reader, it was chaos—and we loved it. But more on that in a sec.

Excuse me? So much to explain. Last week, a story dropped about a “plumber.” Not a real one, but a “plumber”—like the ones who dug up dirt in Watergate (which, fun fact, was a hotel and also the root of every -gate since).
Main character. Enter Leire Díez, a well-connected PSOE operative caught on tape offering favorable treatment to a businessman—if he handed over dirt on the Guardia Civil’s organized crime unit (UCO). That unit? Investigating Sánchez’s wife, brother, and the whole COVID kickback gang: ex-minister José Luis Ábalos, his sidekick Koldo, and businessman Víctor de Aldama.

OK, pause. “Victor who?” Oh, we’ve written about him, but if you need a recap…

“Caso Koldo.” In early 2024, the Guardia Civil arrested Koldo García, advisor to Transport Minister José Luis Ábalos, for allegedly taking bribes for COVID mask contracts. His associate, Aldama, was accused of helping companies avoid VAT on fuel sales, allegedly defrauding €182m and dropping €90,000 in cash at PSOE HQ. Then came the kicker: photos (and video!) of Aldama with Sánchez.
Aldama was detained last October, and in a bid to secure his release from prison, he voluntarily testified to a judge and confessed to multiple crimes that (he claims) involved the PSOE and even PM Sánchez.

Back to the story. Having a party operative like Díez leading a dirty-tricks campaign against the cops? Not a great look for Sánchez’s PSOE. At first, the PSOE tried the old “Leire who?” routine. But her ties to No. 3 party boss Santos Cerdán were too obvious to deny. She went from total unknown to “deputy mayor of a random town in Cantabria”—which is technically a promotion.

Too embarrassing. Problem for the PSOE was that even its parliamentary allies got embarrassed by the scandal and wanted them to come clean. Back when PP was in charge, they had their own cloacas (sewer) crew digging up dirt on far-left Podemos, so the lefties didn’t like the new cloacas much better. The PP and leftist PSOE allies (dogs and cats together!) began demanding that Sánchez appear in Congress “for democratic principles.” One of Sánchez’s own regional PSOE governors even asked him to call elections.

Then came Wednesday’s press conference. It became obvious from the first second of Leire Díez’s presser yesterday, one day after she resigned as a PSOE member, that the idea was for her to basically say, “Nothing to see here!” She claimed—deadpan—that she was just a journalist writing a book on UCO investigations. No 'plumber' here. Definitely not.

Leire sayeth: “You can be a socialist and carry out the investigative work I've been developing for several years to publish a book about the ravages of false patriotism and the hydrocarbons scandal” —in a convoluted, not-very-convincing defense of… something?

Leire then claimed she had handed over a USB drive to the PSOE containing what she says is her research into the multimillion-euro hydrocarbon fraud and alleged abuses by elements of the so-called “patriotic police” under the old PP government of Mariano Rajoy.

And then…boom! What was meant to be a sober press conference turned into one of the most surreal political scenes Spain’s seen in years.
Alien, meet Predator. Our buddy Victor de Aldama showed up totally unexpectedly, charging the stage like a pro wrestler. Way back in March he’d been on TV saying that, “These people are contacting businessmen and individuals to offer them pardons and favorable deals. As long as they testify against me." So he was ready to speak without hairs on his tongue (to directly translate the Spanish phrase, sin pelos en la lengua).
Aldama sayeth. “She's a liar. That woman is a scoundrel. Let her also talk about the Prime Minister and Santos Cerdán,” he said, adding vague threats about what they’d unleashed—like someone just read the scroll in Evil Dead.
Díez fled through a back exit while Aldama followed. Water bottles flew, cables were torn, security stepped in. “¡La sinvergüenza esta!” he kept shouting while calling the entire press event a “pantomime” orchestrated by the government.
Then, later. Aldama later claimed on TV that Díez “is not some ordinary party member…she goes around saying she’s sent by Pedro Sánchez and Santos Cerdán. Who exactly is she?”

What’s next? The PSOE is trying to contain the fallout (good luck on that). In the meantime, the PP has a big anti-Sánchez demonstration planned for Sunday in Madrid. Their new slogan? “Mafia or democracy.”

More news below. 👇👇

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💬 Five things to discuss at dinner parties

1. 🎓 Why are Spain’s universities sinking in world rankings?

The Center for World University Rankings (CWUR)—which, incredibly, is not a discount airline but an Emirati consulting firm that ranks 20,000 universities a year—has dropped its 2025 list. And it’s bad news for Spain.

How bad? Well, the country’s top university—Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona—is ranked… 🥁… #126 in the world. 😬

That’s right. Not top 100. Not top 120. And the second-best? Universidad de Barcelona, at #136. We’d say “ouch” but they’re probably used to it by now. So here’s how Spain’s top five universities placed in this year’s CWUR list:

🇪🇸 #126 — Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona (UAB)
🇪🇸 #136 — Universidad de Barcelona (UB)
🇪🇸 #253 — Universidad Complutense de Madrid (UCM)
🇪🇸 #298 — Universidad de Valencia
🇪🇸 #310 — Universidad Autónoma de Madrid

So, what’s going on? CWUR says the problem is simple: money, or the lack thereof. While other countries (👋, Asia) are pumping cash into their universities like it’s the next Olympic sport, Spain is relying on a mix of prayer and PowerPoint.

So sayeth CWUR. “With 53 Spanish universities in the ranking, Spain is well represented among the world's top universities,” says CWUR president Nadim Mahassen. “However, what is worrying is the decline of the country's academic institutions due to weakening research performance and limited government funding.”

The numbers: 📉 81% of Spanish universities on the list lost ground this year. The biggest factor? Declining research output—with 42 of 53 Spanish universities publishing less or getting cited less than before.

CWUR also ranks based on: Education quality (25%); Alumni employment (25%); Faculty honors (10%); Research (40%, split across output, citations, and influence).

Which may not be fair. Spanish universities might be at a structural disadvantage. CWUR metrics heavily weight things like graduate success and academic prestige—two areas where lower salaries, fewer global accolades, and less publishing in English all take a toll.

Salaries. A fresh grad from MIT or Cambridge might pull six figures and end up at McKinsey. A grad from UB? Maybe a civil servant gig in Lleida. We love Lleida. But CWUR does not.
No speak English. Also, the rankings may have a built-in bias toward English-language universities, since the most-cited journals and most-read research are, unsurprisingly, in English.

No investment. Meanwhile, Spain’s public investment in universities is about 0.7% of GDP—well below the EU average (1.2%) and miles behind countries like Denmark (2%+). Madrid, the richest region in Spain, spends just 0.5% (PP-run Madrid is a center of private unis; the ruling PSOE does not like that). Barcelona’s catching up, but they’ve still got a way to go before they get a seat at the grown-ups’ table.

2.🤴🏻King Felipe VI (aka F6) becomes art critic for a day

Museum Insta. Every weekday morning, ten minutes before the Prado Museum opens, it goes live on Instagram to spotlight one of its (many, many) masterpieces.

COVID boom. The series began as an experiment in 2017 but blew up during COVID, when homebound viewers tuned in for #PradoContigo. This week it hit 1,000 episodes.
Popular spot. Since launch, they’ve racked up 87 million views and nearly 7 million likes—27 million of those views came in 2024 alone.
The setup? A phone, a gimbal, a guide, and one painting per morning. The content is then cross-posted on Instagram and TikTok (for the youths!).

Crown celebration. The 1000th episode came with a twist: it was hosted not by a curator or intern, but by King Felipe VI himself, live from Zarzuela Palace.

Royal docent. With a reproduction of the painting behind him, F6 offered a guided tour of the 1656 masterpiece, identifying each figure and recalling centuries of family and national history.
King makes funny. He even joked that the Royal Family’s Instagram—800K followers—is “catching up” to the Prado’s 1.2 million. Royals: they’re just like us.
Old royals. The King called Velázquez “one of our most universal painters” and described Las Meninas as “much more than a painting,” pointing out Margarita the child princess, the Velázquez self-portrait, and the ghostly mirror of Felipe IV and Mariana of Austria.
Ah, family. The King is a direct descendant of Felipe IV’s older daughter, María Teresa, whose marriage into the French court led to the Bourbon line in Spain (and eventually, to him).

The Prado’s broadcasts succeed thanks to their consistency—and the mix of voices: they feature scholars, students, union reps, artists, musicians, designers, and even scientists! (Our invitations must have gotten lost in the mail, but we won’t give up hope!)

Like, award-winning. The series has received praise and has won a Webby Award, setting the gold standard for public cultural engagement via social media.
Each session bridges classic art and Gen Z, offering centuries-old masterpieces with fresh eyes—and a bit of humor (because why not?). And now, the King’s probably a little cooler for it.

3. 🤧 Spain’s allergy season really is worse than ever

Been talking to your friends and suddenly your eyes go red and tears start rolling down your cheeks for no reason? Is your neighbor’s uncontrollable sneezing waking you up at night? Does your significant other suddenly feel they are about to die from anaphylactic shock? If the answer is “yes to all”, you’re not alone.

‘Historic’. You see, you just happen to be living in Spain during what allergists are calling a “historic” allergy season, and yes, it’s as bad as it sounds.

All bad. This spring unleashed a pollen tsunami across much of the country because, according to the Spanish Society of Allergology and Clinical Immunology (SEAIC), everything that could go wrong, went wrong.
As in… It’s been a warm winter, and we’ve had torrential spring rains. This mortal combination has resulted in explosive plant growth and some of the highest pollen levels in recent memory.

New allergy sufferers are flooding clinics. People who never had issues before are suddenly dealing with severe symptoms like rashes, asthma, or nonstop sneezing.

Gramíneas (grasses) and olive trees are the big villains this season, although depending on where you are, the culprit can vary. Central Spain and the Mediterranean coast are drowning in grass pollen, while southern regions are suffering through an olive pollen overload.
The pollen season is lasting longer than usual. Normally, things wind down by mid-June, but this year, experts warn the ~~misery~~ season could stretch into July or even August, depending on upcoming weather.

And it’s not just the amount of pollen. It’s how it behaves. Strong winds help it travel for kilometers and, oddly enough, thunderstorms can make it worse.

Tiny pieces. When lightning storms roll in, they can break pollen into tinier, more allergenic fragments that go deeper into your lungs.
The phenomenon has been documented in Australia and the U.K., and now it’s becoming more common in Spain. It’s everywhere, like the spores in The Last of Us, but this is somehow worse.

The numbers. Over 8m people in Spain suffer from pollen allergies. That’s already 25% of the population (up seven points from just 25 years ago) and rising fast. And why is this happening? We’ll let you guess, but not really:

Climate change. Warmer winters and higher CO₂ levels extend growing seasons and make pollen stronger.
Air pollution. It alters the pollen’s chemical structure, making it more irritating.
Modern life. Kids spending more time indoors around chemicals, plastics, and pollutants has weakened immune responses and made allergies more common.

Bottom line? Go grab your antihistamines and dust off your pandemic-era facemask. Because this isn’t just a bad season. It’s the new normal.

4. 🚘 What happened the night of the quadruple murder in Torrejón de Ardoz?

Wedding tragedy. A little over two years ago, guests at a wedding in Torrejón de Ardoz (Madrid) were struck by a speeding car—driven by another guest, who fled. It started with a murky argument and ended with four dead.

The trial has ended. Now, after a three week trial with 126 witnesses (and a jury verdict Tuesday), the Spanish press has reconstructed what happened that night, during a few frantic hours of chaos and tragedy. Let’s get into it…

The story starts. It’s Nov. 6, 2022, two-ish in the morning. Four wedding guests—among them the groom’s 65-year-old grandmother, 69-year-old uncle, the uncle’s 37-year-old brother, and a 17-year-old cousin—are standing outside the venue in Torrejón de Ardoz after a family tiff.

The villain. Enter “El Portugués”: Micael Da Silva, in a fluorescent orange cap. He’d just been kicked out of the reception for reasons nobody can quite agree on—maybe stolen whiskey, maybe a rude photo, maybe a punch to the groom’s dad.

The car. After the fight moves to the street, El Portugués gathers his kids and nephews and slides into his uninsured Toyota Corolla parked in the industrial back lot. And then, at 2:36 a.m., he guns it—whistle-stop fashion—into the crowd on Calle Jaén.

Speed demon. Da Silva’s Corolla, doing 62 km/h, plows through guests—bridesmaids, grandparents, cousins. Glass shards, shoes, and stray red sequin fragments from one victim’s dress litter the pavement. Three die instantly; a fourth succumbs in the hospital. Chaos reigns—some witnesses think there was a shotgun blast, others a knife fight. In reality, it’s simply one man’s accelerator and five seconds of carnage.

Fleeing the scene. By 3:30 a.m., the Civil Guard spots Da Silva careening into a field in Seseña (Toledo), kids in tow. In the backseat? €3,940 in cash—a wad from the grandmother’s ceremonial “manzana” sash, flung into the shattered windshield when her body flew through it.

Fear defense. Da Silva’s defense claimed “miedo insuperable” (unbearable fear), insisting he thought the guests were shooting at him and had threatened his children with knives.
No dice. The jury didn’t buy it. On Tuesday, they unanimously found him guilty of four murders with “dolo eventual”—knowing or reckless indifference to the fatal outcome—and nine counts of attempted murder. Prosecutors are now demanding 25 years to life.

So why did this happen 🔍? Despite 126 witnesses and three weeks of trial, the motives remain foggy. That leaves us with theories.

Clash of Subcultures? Some media reports dubbed the nuptials a “gitana” wedding (a reference/slight to the “gypsy” heritage of the families), presumably meaning to hint at tense, tight-knit family dynamics where insult and honor pack extra punch. Perhaps that helps explain why what might be a minor scuffle at an average reception turned nuclear. Or perhaps that’s just a cultural stereotype.
Money on the Windshield. Finding four-grand strapped to a corpse is straight out of a noir flick—yet here it doubles as damning proof that Da Silva didn’t hit “Panic Mode,” he decided to weaponize his Corolla. Was it for the money?
Speed Demon Logic. Hitting 62 km/h in a crowd is less “I’m scared” and more “I want to hurt these people.” Spanish courts, analysts, and the whopping 100+ witnesses agree the fatal outcomes were no act of bad luck. So there was rage involved.
Social Media Tease. Before the killing spree, Da Silva was livestreaming from the reception at 2:20 a.m., then went radio-silent. Maybe that’s when he flipped—proof that in a couple seconds, a social-media-savvy guest can become a headline.

“Boda de Sangre” isn’t just a catchy phrase. It’s a cautionary tale: rage, booze, and family feuds can turn a Corolla into a murder weapon.

5. 🪑 You come for Spain’s abuelas, you lose

A night like any other night. It started like any other summer evening in Santa Fe, a town outside Granada. A handful of grandmothers dragged folding chairs outside their homes to tomar el fresco—the beloved Spanish ritual of cooling off, fanning oneself with an abanico, and gossiping in the street. As Spanish as tortilla and paella, dude. Then came the tweet.

The man come to town. The local police posted a gentle reminder that “public space is regulated,” with a photo of six abuelas in their natural habitat. “If the police ask you to remove chairs or tables,” it read, “please do so with respect and civility.”

Cue: national meltdown. 😱

The post went viral almost instantly—6 million views and a flood of memes, outrage, and jokes about the horror of evicting Spain’s grandmothers from their sidewalk throne. One user compared it to kicking the Pope out of the Vatican.

Not what we meant. Within hours, Santa Fe’s mayor was on the radio doing damage control: “Nobody is going to stop our elderly from sitting outside to cool off. Period.”

Always the fake news. The mayor blamed social media “manipulation” and clarified the message was aimed at late-night partiers, not señoras with fans and plastic water bottles. “It’s not about chairs,” he said. “It’s about courtesy.”

Damage done. But by then, the police had become the most-hated law enforcement body in Spain, second only to the meter maids of Madrid.

The lesson? Don’t mess with the abuelas. They’ve lived through Franco, inflation, and 47 summers without A/C. They’re not moving.

Let them sit.

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