Anybody here remember that TV comedy series ‘PT 73’ back in the early 70s?

Oh well. She can be anybody’s niece for all I care. My family pedigree is not exactly stellar. But really. Director of Defence. Who probably can’t tell a Scud from an Exocet (It-Torca or Kullhadd or whatever it was published one to illustrate the story on TEFGHU MISSILI LEJN MALTA. An error illustrating a lie, made believable by ignorance. And not one word from the Defence Directorate.)

I wouldn’t have known that. Can’t see anything distinctive in the eyebrows. What with the enormous shades and all.

[Daphne – Ray Pace failed to specify that George Vella is Mrs Frazier’s uncle only by marriage. He’s married to Mrs Frazier’s aunt (Grima).]

Such fine logic, yours. If I had been fighting in Misrata I wouldn’t have been lambasting the Maltese government. My plea to my Prime Minster and his government is to let us – if he really believes all that tripe about Malta sovrana – fight and possibly die for our sovereign country. We’re not all cut out to be engineers and web developers, you know.

Truly the judgement of an armchair critic. Where were you, Baxxter? Hiding behind your nom de guerre, presumably, whilst fighting in Misurata againstr Ghaddafi?

[Daphne – The point is, Mario, that NOBODY from Malta fought in Misurata against Gaddafi, not our director of defence and certainly not our armed forces. We are a neutral country with an army we never plan on using, except to deliver boxes of food from the warehouse to the docks – not even all the way to Misurata itself (leave that to private initiative) because that might not be neutral.]

@Snoopy
Didn’t manage to sit around until the Director of Defence and her chewing gum first time round.

Frazier is George Vella’s (Labour) niece.

Baxxter was referring to the Director of Defence and not the Brigadier.

Is the Brigadier related to Tonio Borg? He sounds just like him. There’s a drinking game somewhere in that video – down something whenever the brigadier says “collective eff-a-rt.”

If anyone attacks our dear Republic, we’re going to just stand on the cliffs, stare our enemies down and talk in a nasal drawl. Then we’d all go for coffee at The Ferries.