Schadenfreude.

I don’t think there’s a Spanish, or indeed English, word for pleasure derived from another’s misfortune. After crashing into a deep muddy ditch, I shouldn’t laugh at him, but as the handlebar camera showed, he did laugh at himself at intervals on the rest of the way home. Apart from frightening the dogs by appearing at the door like a creature from the black lagoon, having to throw away a ripped pair of cycling shorts, tend to a few superficial bruises and grazes, and drying out the expensive samsung phone in a bowl of rice, there seemed to be little damage except to pride. Luna especially enjoyed rolling in her favourite black tarry mud before I could wash the clothes.