Saviour Balzan bla bajd
Take your pick, Saviour
Saviour Balzan has a message for me. But he’s too bla bajd to ring me himself. So what did he do instead? He rang his friend Philip Manduca who rang his cousin, my husband, to tell me.
The message is that the pregnancy announcement caused Saviour a lot of problems. Oh really? And…..exactly why should I give a damn about this?
Oh, I get it! Saviour wants me to do him A FAVOUR. He wants me to say nothing so that he won’t have any problems. I see.
Hmmm. Now let’s see how this works out. He makes a point of targeting me every other Sunday with half-truths, lies, and sheer, unadulterated nastiness.
And when, on the rare occasion that I am moved to email a correction or denial under the ‘right to reply’ provisions of the Press Act, he or his minions press Delete and don’t bother.
When I ring him directly to put a rocket under him – because I’m only literally bla bajd and not figuratively – he presses ‘Send to Voice Mail’ and doesn’t ring back.
Then he has the gall to demand that I do him favours – but sadly, not the ball/s to make that demand in person. So he goes through a chain of two people instead, one of whom (and this is just how wiccu u s**mu l-istess he really is) has also been his repeated target – my husband.
This is not the first time that ball-free-zone Saviour (it must have been an immaculate conception) went through two people to get a message to me because he was too scared to phone me himself. Imbasta dik l-arja kollha fil-Malta Today, bluff and bluster u imbaghad senza palle.
And by some amazing coincidence, the second person in these short chains of getting-a-message-to-Daphne is invariably somebody else who he hates and targets obsessively.
Only a few weeks ago, he got his business partner Roger de Giorgio to ring Lou Bondi to ring me to say that Saviour wasn’t going to Brussels with John Dalli (yes, right, because Harry took the job instead – he left that bit out). Lou’s response was ‘For God’s sake, call her yourself.’
To which Roger replied: ‘I don’t want to, because she’ll yell at me.’
Whimper.
Damn right I’d have yelled at him. What a nerve. Sunday after Sunday I am the target of Roger’s and Saviour’s utter malice, fully aware that if I were to agree to work for them (jaqq) all the attacks would stop.
As curious coincidence would have it, that very same night I ran into Roger in Mdina when he was leaving one party and I was on my way to another (and no, Maltastar, not at Richard Cachia Caruana’s house but at Paul Sant Cassia’s cafe). So he got a stiff talking-to all the same – a very loud one, in the echoing silence of the Silent City. And incidentally no, it did not involve any rude words beginning with F, though I must say I was sorely tempted.
There was another similar incident too, when Saviour Balzan rang Charles Demicoli to ring Richard Cachia Caruana to ring me to tell me to – and Saviour requested a blanket ban here, if you please – stop writing about him altogether. You can imagine how well that went down.
What a prat, honestly. All that throwing his weight around behind his keyboard and then he doesn’t have the wherewithal to pick up the phone and call me. And that assumes he has justification for ringing me at all: what is he going to propose – bilateral disarmament? I won’t mention you and you don’t mention me? Mela haseb li jien xi Consuelo Herrera jew xi Robert Musumeci jew Astrid Vella?
Unbelievable.
Well, Saviour Balzan will confirm that in all these years that he’s been targeting me as though I am a politician standing for election rather than a journalist who refused point-blank to join his stable of freaks and losers, I have never once called anyone to call somebody else to call him to ask him to pretty-please lay off me.
Saviour is free to carry on giving me more coverage than he gives to the leader of the Opposition, because I loom far larger on his petty, obsessive horizon than Joseph Muscat does. Should I ever wish to put a sodding great rocket under him, I will dial his number and press the red button myself. And I will do so not to beg and crawl for favours and ask him to lay off, but to give him the bollocking from hell as I do with all ass-holes who cross my path.
But that depends, of course, on whether he has the dingle-danglies to take the call rather than sending it straight to voice mail. L-irgiel Maltin: Rambo wahedhom. Ma, xi dwejjaq ta’ nies.
44 Comments Comment
Leave a Comment
Ma jifilhux jaqaw ghan-nejk dawn in-nies.
Brilliantly written, as usual.
I am at a loss trying to picture what ‘problems’ announcing his soon-to-be’s pregnancy could have caused.
A kick in the balls from the bride-in-waiting. Oh sorry, I forgot. A punch in the stomach.
Jew ghidlu jarma par minn dawn, Daphne.
http://www.neuticles.com/
Brilliant, yes – but why include l-irgiel Maltin kollha?
Daphne is just referring to the type of commonplace Maltese macho, who rants and raves to show he has big balls, and when push comes to shove, cowers.
This trait is common to all Latin-based cultures, and it is the kind of thinking that, at the other extreme, makes a man like Sandro Chetcuti beat the living daylights out of Vince Farrugia during an argument.
Naqbel ma’ David. Jiena dingle-danglies ghandi, u ma nixtieqx nigi lumped ma’ Saviour ‘No-Dingle-Danglies’ Balzan.
Ghandi ricetta tajba ghalikom: Coglioni di Vitello al Pernod.
Ingredienti per 4 persone:
2 testicoli di vitello
2 bicchierini da liquore di Pernod
40 gr. di farina
2 uova
40 gr. di pane grattugiato
40 gr. di burro
6 cucchiai di olio
2 limoni
4 fogli di carta assorbente
sale e pepe
Scotennare i testicoli incidendoli longitudinalmente; tagliarli delicatamente a fettine spesse 1 cm. Immergere le fettine nel Pernod con sale e pepe e lasciarle macerare per almeno un’ora. Asciugare con un panno e impanare con la farina, l’uovo sbattuto e il pane grattugiato. Friggerle in burro e olio e farle sgocciolare sulla carta assorbente. Servire in piatto singolo un paio di scaloppe con una fettina di limone e guarnire con ciuffetti di aneto (o prezzemolo riccio).
I stopped buying their rag of a newspaper some weeks ago now. I hope many more do the same.
What I can’t understand is why people buy it in the first place, not why they STOPPED buying it.
Forsi minhabba l-fonts tal- headlines? Il- Maltatoday tuza pergiunta kuluri primarji u hija tabloidy hafna. Insejjhilha ‘the Crayons Effect’.
Saviour tan-n*jk daqs kemm kien tan-n*jk il-kejk ta’ Consuelo.
David is right here. Allahares l-irgiel Maltin kollha bla bajd bhal Saviour.
[Daphne – I apologise for generalising and offending many Maltese men, but let’s face it, there are a lot of that type around.]
Apology accepted. After all, most of us know EXACTLY who you’re referring to.
Hopefully I’m one of the “few” – and I’m not talking about the Battle of Britain here.
But this is what happens when things get nasty and personal. It’s impossible, I know, but wouldn’t it be nice if we could attack the argument or the policy or the attitude but not the person?
I guess it’s about as likely as ELO re-forming.
[Daphne – No, because the medium is the message.]
It isn’t the ‘bajd’ only that count. The quality and quantity should be taken into consideration too. If not they are only a decoration.
Mine come from vegetarian fed hens.
Why is it then that on TV he always gives the impression that he’s afraid of nobody?
Because he feels he is in a secure environment, with just a television camera in front of him. It’s the same with these weirdos who feel they can say what they like via the internet and don’t have the balls to say it face to face.
Malta Today have a new journalist – Gerald Fenech.
[Daphne – Yes, I know. I’ve received his standard round-robin email, the one he sends out six times a year, just changing the name of the new employer he’s moved to, or in some cases, back to. I must say that Media Today couldn’t have found a more precise fit for its standard newsroom profile of single male loser, possibly bearded but not necessarily so, with an unhealthy interest in Lord of the Rings and related subjects and a propensity to put the boss on a pedestal because, unlike them, he gets an occasional shag and – intake of breath here – had a wife and is about to hook himself another one.]
Did you say ‘journalist’?
Gerald Fenech tafu kemm ilu jbiddel stallel? Idur ma’ dik il-gazzetta, ma’ dak il-magazine, m’hemm u m’hawn.
Malta Today is just full up with arrogant and idiotic freaks and slices.
Xi jkun ‘slice’ f’dan il-kuntest?
Hence the result.
Bearded or not, he’s certainly promiscuous with employers …
Philip is polite, and Saviour took advantage – that’s why he called him.
Wait, Paul Sant Cassia the anthropologist has opened a coffee shop?
[Daphne – Yes. It’s on the ground floor of his house. It’s called…..Il Gattopardo.]
Malta Today, skont il-website taghha, ghalqet 10 snin bhala ‘Malta’s Independent Voice’. Fuq nett fuq l-istess site, riklam ghall- “OIKOS, il-migja tal- ghasafar, ONE TV l-erbgha, 10.15pm”
Independenti daqs Messalina…
Il- Maltatoday, skont il- website taghhom, ghadhom kif ghalqu 10 snin bhala ‘Malta’s Independent Voice’.
Fuq nett fuq l-istess site, riklamm ghall- ‘OIKOS, il-migja tal- ghasafar’, trasmess fuq ONE TV.
Independenti? Daqs Messalina…
“There was another similar incidence too”
What’s a similar incidence? :)
I’m only saying this to show that everyone can make mistakes … including yourself. And please don’t tell me that it’s not a mistake. Google the phrase and you’ll only get one result … yours!
[Daphne – It IS a typo, Mr Gatt, and you’ll find many more if you look for them. I touch-type at speed and don’t have time, or rather inclination, to review or edit. Typos are not necessarily hitting the wrong keys, but also typing the wrong thing because you’re on auto-pilot or thinking of something else you should be doing instead. There are mistakes of this nature and then there are mistakes that are due to linguistic ineptitude, which is something else entirely.]
Darn, I wish I’d said that, Daphne – I knew there was a good reason for my own writing cock-ups … or should that be cocks-up?
If you follow Maltastar’s house style, it would be cocks-ups, as in noms-de-plumes.
“when Saviour Balzan rang Charles Demicoli to ring Richard Cachia Caruana to ring me”
and then bragged about it in Malta Today midweek.
[Daphne – And embellished it with lies, too. My first thought on reading that was ‘What a cowardly, stupid prick. Why didn’t he just call me himself?]
Forsi jibza min-nisa, ghax trabba minn Madam Balzan, li bezzghat generazzjonijiet shah ta’ bniet ta’ ghaxar snin id-Dorotej.
Apparently Madam Balzan wore them as earrings…and she must have handed them down to the future Madam Balzan as a family heirloom.
Pardon me for being obtuse, but why did you have to drag Balzan’s partner into this in the first place?
[Daphne – Let’s look at my options here, Twan. People don’t marry themselves. They marry somebody else. And he doesn’t have a PARTNER. He has a FIANCEE. Partner – the new Mittilkless buzzword.]
Doesn’t answer my question.
paRRRRtneRR, if you please
Roger replied: ‘I don’t want to, because she’ll yell at me.’
This is like Emmit in ‘Keeping up Appearances’ : “I won’t go out because she sings at me”
For a moment I imagined Roger trying to avoid Mrs Bucket .
Saviour begging to be saved. How ironic.
Do you mean something like Saviour the Coward?
I know it’s a typo!
And I know the difference between such typos and Maltastar’s “typos”.
And I agree with you.
And I admire you for publishing my post instead of just ignoring it and amending the typo. That’s honesty and I like it.
Your article reminds me of ”Blessed are the peace-makers for they shall never be unemployed”
You mean “Blessed are the cheese-makers …”?