You’d be forgiven for thinking that Gibraltar is a strange parallel universe of England - albeit a hotter and more chilled out version. Red telephone boxes sit beside palm trees on the sun-soaked Mediterranean streets; schoolchildren gossip in a unique mix of Spanish and English while clutching newspaper-wrapped packages of fish and chips; and down a narrow side street near a pub offering plates of pie and mash, the air echoes with words of Arabic. The Gibraltar International Literary...