Il giorno delle locuste

Il giorno delle locuste makes economics feel overheard from a charged control room rather than delivered from a lectern. It is fast. The show moves through finance, trade, industry, taxation, war-adjacent geopolitics, energy, and public budgets with the restless rhythm of live radio. A segment might start with a joke about headphones, a dream about racing sharks, a German holiday detour, or an overbuilt linguistic gag, then tighten suddenly around hedge funds, the European automotive crisis, or the Italian government’s budget documents. The comedy is not decorative. It works like a pressure valve, letting the program handle grim or technical material without becoming solemn for very long. Recent episodes point repeatedly at the same larger question: what happens when governments, corporations, and financial markets make choices that hollow out production, shift risk elsewhere, and then describe the result as inevitability. Stellantis, Exor, Volkswagen, Tavares, Chinese electric cars, dividends, Mirafiori, tariffs, energy prices, Meta, Google, Amazon, Tesla, and the Milan Prosecutor’s Office all appear as pieces of that argument. So do Ukraine, Gaza, China-U.S. trade tension, the DEF, the 185-90 law, and European supply vulnerabilities. The show is comfortable with figures, but it rarely sounds like a briefing note. It keeps rephrasing, teasing, correcting, and launching quizzes, as if the best way through a dense subject is to make the room talk back. That makes the program accessible without flattening it. It expects attention. It rewards listeners who can follow a quick pivot from Gino Paoli to Brent prices, from Monopoly wordplay to narco-economics, from a studio gag to corporate tax disputes. Its editorial center is skeptical and political, with a strong interest in who extracts value and who is left with the bill. The result is a caustic, energetic finance show for people who find ordinary market commentary too clean, too bloodless, or too polite about power.