We’re hoping it might inspire someone out there to give us some sort of free communications package so we can keep sending words, pictures, and video from Africa where roaming charges are punitive.
Our translator is a mate of Monolo’s called Mike, who I soon discover is a Spanish-raised Geordie, so is obviously a good egg.
We arrived at Tele Madrid’s huge studios laden with gear and backpacks, which caused a palaver with the front desk security.
Enter Antonio, the immaculately-groomed, heavily made-up, presenter who swanned down with heaven-like TV grace and whisked us away to the relevant studios.
The main studio itself was cocooned in a perspex vacuum. At the centre, a field of desks with huge screens showing all the main global news channels.
The vibe seemed to be controlled panic, with directors, presenters, make-up girls and sound men etc fussing around us. All very weird.
Obviously everyone was speaking in Spanish - bar me.
I happily resigned myself to the whole surreal thing without a clue what was going on.
How did we get on in our brief moment of stardom on Spanish telly, I hear you ask? Well I’ll let you decide as the footage will be up on the site any time soon.
And hats off to Antonio for taking our project to heart and making a few calls and sending a few emails to possible sponsors on our behalf.
Not to be subverted from our mission for too long, we cadged one final lift from Monolo (beers for you in Blighty fella) to a truckstop at the edge of Madrid and got The Thumb in action again at 3pm.