Category: Uncategorized

Some weird news in the paper today. First there is the “black, chubby man” who performed a streak at the hallowed grounds of the law courts. Complimenti to the Times reporter Waylon Johnston (Waylon???) for the step by step thrilling description:

He ran up the steps at around 12.30 p.m. dressed in a black, Hard Rock Café t-shirt, a green hat and light green trousers. As soon as he got through the door, as he approached the metal detector, he undressed. The guards alerted a police officer but he was gone by the time the policeman reached the door.

Yet again the strong arm of the law is defied by another man of colour, even when the handicap normally reserved for PC Clod seemed to have been bridged by the chubbiness of the non-caucasoid in question. All the policeman could see was a clear view of the streaker who apparently bared his buttocks for all to see.

Salagadoola mechicka boola
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo
It’ll do magic believe it or not
bibbidi-bobbidi-boo

(Turn up the volume on your speakers and click here for some (irritating) background music while reading this post.)

Just throw a few nonsensical words together and a catchy (ish) tune and you have a bit of magic (believe it or not). So said the Fairy Godmother in Disney’s Cinderella. So will some EP candidates try to bamboozle you. When they are not speaking about their strong nationalistic position on all things immigrant or some weird environmental credentials, the MEP candidates seem to be at a loss as to which bandwagon to jump onto in order to attract attention.

What we end up getting when reading cut and paste articles or following supposed fruitful campaigns is the electoral equivalent of  “mechicka boola” – a whole lotta garbage.

Enter Claudette Abela Baldacchino who has just called for a referendum on divorce. The erstwhile PL candidate seems to believe that Joseph Muscat’s attempt at political mileage early in his revolutionary tenure as head of the scatterbrained reformists was not enough. So in order to get her own place in the spotlight of star candidates she goes ahead and kicks off a campaign to have a referendum on divorce.

Over the weekend Premier Berlusconi has upped the ante with regards to immigration. Election fever (EP as well as regional) sometimes also means being in touch with the louder side of the population. In declaring that he does not want a “multi-ethnic” Italy Berlusconi won plaudits from his allies and attracted criticism from the UN and the Vatican.

Silvio will not heed this criticism. He would rather ignore it and attempt to quell the rising tide of the “dangerous demographics” [1]. It is hard to find fault in his reasoning. In electoral terms it is clear that both in Italy and Malta being seen to be active in the Immigration Department is a bonus for the government. Being seen as a standard bearer of a nationality that is under some extreme threat of extinction can win further brownie points. So before the pizza turns into a hummus and the bistecca fiorentina turns into some form of “meshui” (that’s “mixwi” for us), Berlusconi prefers turning a shade of Green (of the Padano kind) and has suddenly found a way to send the boatloads of immigrants back into the welcoming arms of Ghaddafi.

Berlusconi’s partners (and friends) in Little Italy can only applaud this feat. After all they too have a mass of voters egging them to prevent the nasty men from forming houses of worship within their own precincts. They too answer to voters who are disgusted when they see a manifestation of a devout person in a public place. They too can count among their voters people who believe that it’s ok if one man clad in white  gets off a plane and immediately is down on his knees in prayer but if a group of others do so regularly on the seafront.

This article and accompanying Bertoon appeared in today’s edition of The Malta Independent on Sunday.

Dal Notaro

It’s past midnight in the Grand Duchy and I am back from a birthday celebration at one of the many restaurants that try to pass for Italian in this corner of Europe. “Dal Notaro” is no different from any of the myriad other eateries run by second or third generation Italians who still believe they can con you into thinking that a quickly assembled plate of prosciutto and luxembourg mozzarella can be passed off as the real deal.The place does retain a bit of the Italian charm if by charm you mean the waiter insisting on keeping the wine list well hidden and leaving the table of guests with no alternative but a coy submission to his choice after a feeble attempt at resistance.

It really is irritating when a waiter tries to force feed a large group by hard selling one particular entree or main course in order to minimise the variety at table and facilitate chef’s duties. Anyways, the filletto al gorgonzola is still lying heavily on my stomach despite my downing a generous portion of grappa in order to tame the beast that was probably still alive at the moment of ingestin. In any case, I was not there for the food but for a birthday celebration.

Eurovision

I know it’s soon that time again but I don’t mean the song competition invented exclusively in order to highlight the humorous intellect of Terry Wogan. No. What I mean is the euro-vision or the way of seeing things from an expat’s perspective. It is probably one of the reasons why a night out with the fellow expats who will shortly be scrambling for a few places on a plane for a quick visit home can be interesting. Join us at a table and you would wonder whether this is the seat of some conspiracy – a coup in the making.

Cicale!

It’s time for La Vecchia Signora to start thinking about the future. This transition year was not exactly pleasant. Hungry fans wanted success fast and will be disappointed with the way it turned out. J’accuse believes that the real, competitive Juve is still nowhere to be found. Juve had a team that could hold together for almost three-quarters of the way (well, at least till Easter). Tinkerman was not a bad idea for a coach building on the long term but recently his ideas seemed a bit out of focus and he must be shouldering a bit of the blame for the way the sturdy machine began to lose parts.

The players too – a mixture of old and new – had lost the early sting and stimulus of revenge after the unhappy year condemned unjustly in the doldrums of Serie B football. Second in the first year back in  Serie A was no mean feat. Second, third or (God forbid) fourth this season is still not a nightmare when you are a fan of the long term variety.

Thing is I am a fan of the kind who likes to see his team win beautifully, with beautiful football and not through grinding of teeth and wearing down of the opponent with some barrier erected somewhere at the half-way line. I want to see creativity, I want to see the ball passed around, hopefully some mesmerising moves and that finishing shot that makes you go “Ooooh”. If my team wins after an ugly game then for me it is no victory.