End flooding. Vote Joseph.
This was my column in The Malta Independent on Sunday, 9 September.
My, my – things have come to a pretty pass when even the storms and flooding are ‘tort tal-prim ministru’. Or rather, to be more accurate, “ta gonzipn”.
Water in your hallway?
Vote for change.
Skylight leaking?
Vote Labour.
Car caught up in racing water because generations ago the brilliant minds, whose genes have so clearly been fed into the current population, thought it would be a fabulous wheeze to develop towns alongside roads through valleys?
Then you really must make Joseph Muscat prime minister.
With Joseph as prime minister and Anglu as his deputy, there will be no flooding, ever.
Because Joseph has a magic wand – and no, dear obsessive readers of Fifty Shades, it certainly isn’t tucked into his trousers. If it were, his wife wouldn’t be reading that book in public places.
HANDCUFFS
It has become as fashionable to claim to be a Fifty Shades fan as it has become to say that Mintoff did a lot of good and that we should say nothing bad about him.
Both speak volumes, but let’s not get into it.
E. L. James, who made around €25 million in 18 months from those books – the clever lady – was practically mobbed in London’s Shoreditch a couple of days ago, when she answered questions from an audience of people in handcuffs (yes, really).
Now that we have finally seen what she looks like – not at all the sort of person to have ever had a frisky time in a flying-machine, even in her youth, which accounts for the (clearly widely shared) fantasies about how this might occur – what is really required is an interview with that husband she keeps talking about.
Apparently he once gave her a tin-opener and suggested they use it as a sex toy. “He didn’t make that mistake again,” she told her audience.
Well, Fifty Shades with solid-gold tin-openers should sell to an entirely different audience, and if her publishers can have it translated into Maltese, then so much the better.
It’s bound to be a big hit with the sort of people who think “bott l**a” is a major insult.
AS LONG AS IT’S NOT IN THE CAPITAL CITY
A Zejtun councillor has proposed the renaming of a street in his town as ‘Triq Duminku Mintoff’.
The trouble is, when he brought the matter up for discussion with his fellow town councillors, all sorts of difficulties were raised as to which street this might be, so as not to cause problems for the people who live there.
You know, they would have to change their identity cards, notify their bank and employer and all manner of organisations, throw away their calling cards and correspondence cards and order new ones from Smythson, and above all, get used to the idea of living in a street named after one of the nastiest little men, in every sense of the word, to strut across these islands in the 20th century.
Not that Mintoff actually strutted anywhere but in the urban core bar Sliema and St Julian’s. he knew where his heartland was and he stayed there, except when visiting some murderous dictator in a pariah state or the communist bloc.
I have the solution for those town councillors. Find the shortest street, to keep the workload down, and then canvass the residents to find out whether they simply adore Mintoff.
It shouldn’t be difficult in Zejtun, given how easy it seems to be among the tal-pepe crowd nowadays, with so many of them competing to be generous (and bloody stupid) about him. Also, it’s pretty easy to find out whether they’re living off social security.
Then change the name of that street.
It’s not that I have anything against people living off social security, the poor things. Some of them have no choice. It’s just that people living off social security don’t tend to have bank accounts, communicate with a network of associates who need their address, or have calling cards from Smythson.
And they usually love Mintoff, so they won’t mind.
HOW ABOUT A DOM COCKTAIL?
Once we’re done with the street, why stop there? Why not a nice cocktail concocted by some charming and talented barman at one of Malta’s top hotels, now that everybody wants to be seen to be getting in on the Dom-As-Robin-Hood act?
They can slot it next to Sex on the Beach so that the sort of ‘Oooh I’m so naughty and risqué and not at all out of date’ ageing men who still order that with a smirk can order up an Old Bastard instead.
Or better still, a Dirty Old Bastard.
And for those who hold the opposite view, because it would be bad for business otherwise, they can knock out a great Salvatur on the rocks.
NOBODY CARES THAT WE’RE OUT OF RECESSION
The latest statistics show that Malta is now out of recession, but to read the poisonous and bitter grumbling on the internet, you wouldn’t credit it.
Is there any jumping for joy? Like hell there is.
On the contrary, there are calls for Joseph to do a Moses and lead us to the Promised Land of Gel Nails and Hand-Outs.
Now even the taparsi tal-pepe and also some of the real ones want hand-outs. Isn’t that amazing? Except that they don’t call them hand-outs, of course, but being given that to which they feel themselves ever so entitled – you know, like favours and contracts.
The Maltese economy is really a case of pearls before swine.
HICK HELL
Standing on the outside and looking in from a distance, Malta seems even more like a tight bubble of sorry sods who think they are a world unto themselves.
Or to quote the murderous law enforcer sent from Chicago to the hills of Franklin County to stamp out bootlegging, in the new film Lawless (I loved it), “you hicks really are a sideshow all of your own”.
The trouble with Malta is the preponderance of hicks, even of hicks with money and hicks with what is supposed to be an education. You can’t move for hicks here.
In more civilised places, hicks stay in their own zones (in Malta there’s no escape), and when they begin acquiring non-hick trappings, they make a point of trying to acquire the manners and mores of non-hicks, as well.
They learn about stuff. They take an interest. You can have a conversation with them, because they bother, and more importantly, because they know what a conversation is and how it works.
But now everything in Malta, more than ever before, is designed or planned to accommodate hicks and satisfy hick tastes and hick desires. And when somebody rebels and decides to go against hick hegemony, as with the Renzo Piano project for Valletta, hick hell breaks loose.
Because so many Maltese are either obvious hicks or hicks in costly attire with pricey accoutrements (it’s the mind and attitude that count) it is practically impossible to have the sort of normal conversation in Malta which you might have elsewhere as an adult, with other adults.
It is also the reason why so very many Maltese are uncomfortable when taken out of context – if, that is, they have the social awareness to see that they hit the wrong notes repeatedly on the rare occasions when they are out of context.
It’s my experience that when people tell me that Malta is a great place to live (“the best”), it’s generally because they feel so uncomfortable anywhere else.
But conversation is the least of it. Boring chat and banter can be switched off or avoided altogether. It’s easy to understand why some individuals of an older generation reach the point where they avoid social occasions altogether (“in-nies idejquni“).
The trouble begins when those qualities enter the polling-booth, and then plague public and private discourse and activity in the five-year gaps in between.
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Or rather, to be more accurate, “ta gonzipn”
gonzipn is old. the new one is Lawrence ‘DCG’ Gonzi
I would suggest that Triq il-Wied in Zejtun be renamed.
Mainly because it passes near to where Joe Grima had/has a residence (which should make him happy) and also because it leads directly to the recycling plant (which should make the rest of us happy).
The whole name is Triq il-Wied iz-Ziju (with a dot on the z) and it is in Marsaskala.
Although I agree that the actual name is Triq il-Wied iż-Żiju, but known as Triq il-Wied by locals, the attached clearly shows (circled) that road in question is boundary between Zejtun and Marsascala local coucils (which would make even the Marsascala local council happy).
https://dl.dropbox.com/u/5636519/Zejtun-MScala.jpg
Daphne it would be wise to remind our Dear Joseph that the project where the sort of bridge and flood relief alterations in Msida were designed by the great PERIT Dom himself in the 80s.
Ask around as I am sure I remember newspapers quoting that this flood relief flop was designed by Mintoff himself.
Yes, I remember my father explaining to us kids that Mintoff was dumb enough to think he could get rid of incoming water on a ship by poking holes in its hull.
Exactly one of my first thoughts on reading that Mintoff had finally died. “If they have to name streets, gardens, etc for Dom Mintoff, I hope at least it’s somewhere south of Marsa”.
How about Dom Mintoff International Airport, Dom Mintoff Avenue instead of Regjonali, Port Mintoff in Cirkewwa, And also Independence Square in Gozo renamed to Dom Mintoff Square? I think thats quite suitable.
[Daphne – I find it necessary to add a note for my readers, telling them that you are serious (and a brain-dead supporter of the man).]
Mintoff Pumping Station is the only suitable I can think of. Well, actually there are various others I can think of, all not apt for this forum
Well, renaming certain roads to ‘Dom Mintoff Street’ or ‘Avenue’ do indeed have their perks.
Because I’m sure as hell that so many people would take pride in driving over anything related to Dom Mintoff.
And if they had to rename any road, I personally can’t think of a place more apt than Tal-Barrani Road, Zejtun – what happened there was certainly amongst his more ‘creditable’ achievements.
As if Im serious deff, I was just messing with you mentally disabled Fascists!
[Daphne – The ‘a’ in Daphne is the English flat ‘a’: cat, bat, mat, sat, Daphne. And not cet, bet, met, set, Dephne. It is practically impossible, linguists tell me, to learn foreign vowels after the age of five (and probably after infancy), but at least try for a vague approximation.]
I suggest Triq Dumkoff. Has a nice reddish tinge to it.
@ Anonymous
Let’s not forget the L-Arma ta’ Malta ta’ Mintoff with the Maltese dghajsa, bajtar tax-xewk, imqadef, xemx… and I am sure there were also some pistols, police batons, photos of il-Fusellu, il-Qahbu, Toto, il-Qattus and other such things thrown in which might have been missed !
Dear say it straight,
So, I don’t think you remember the mahzen ta’ Hal Qormi, not to mention the huge munition of arms found under the Nationalist HQ? And what about the pallavostri throwing?
@ Matt B, if I see you in the street I will gladly run over you, not to mention ciccio, DCG, PAul Bonnici, Ian Cilia, Giraffa, Wayne Hewitt, Austin Gatt, Wormfood, and so many other Nationalist trash which this island is apparently infested with…
At this point I would like to congratulate a family member of mine for printing a photo of Daphne and stuck it to the toilet, so everyone can piss and shit on her. Ahhhhh I love hating Nationalists!!!
So fuck you all and I advise you all go start education all over again, since you must be all mentally disabled to vote for the Nazi people.
The people are fed up, and I will be the first to happily throw shit at the Nationalist HQ, and maybe trash some of their kazini for a taste of their own medicine from the 80s next March, after a landslide Labour win.
Say Bye Bye to your guards Daphne, cause when PL is in power they will happily remove them from your doorstep, allowing everyone to happily throw cow shit at your house.
Ahhhhhh that felt so good, letting out my anger on retarded Nationalists… Fuck you all
Love,
Heyy
@Heyy
To quote you, because you might understand this:
“Fuck your sad life twat”
That is all.
Let’s rename the Magħtab dump after him.
Wormfood, wow, you are a genius! Great idea. Gonzi is ‘bla-bajd’ to do that though.
Fuck your sad life twat
‘if I see you in the street I will gladly run over you’
You’re remarkably cocky for a sub-literate who finds it difficult to breathe and type at the same time, never mind drive a car.
Why don’t you promptly feck off and stick to jacking off to crumpled Mintoff santi, you pond life?
I would be beside myself if my street had to be renamed ‘Triq Duminku Mintoff’. It’s bad enough as it is but some nasty neighbour might be inclined to leave the dog mess behind.
Wouldn’t perhaps a landfill site be more appropriate for renaming purposes. Far less upheaval.
Disgusting people. Our roads are infested with Borg Olivers and nerik mizzis, so why complain about mintoff? Another reason to despise you people
[Daphne – Because Mintoff was a dreadful person who caused a great deal of harm. The fact that he was prime minister is not sufficient reason to name a street after him.]
Please, it was il-Qahbu who co ordinated the violence in the 80s, Mintoff never had anything to do with it. And please, stop ignoring comments I make on Nationalist violence such as pallavostri, as if trying to cover up for the mess you made. Pathetic
[Daphne – What is pathetic is your assertion that Mintoff had nothing to do with it. No, he only made it possible and allowed it to continue.]
Balavostri, not ‘pallavostri’.
Kienu jqabblu lil Mintoff ma Mose’ ghax waqt li Mose ghamel triq fil-bahar, Mintoff gamely bahar fit-triq.
That the flooding for you. He built roads without water drainage system.
Rubbish Comment
Ghamel mhux gamely
All the roads which flooded were built by our omnipotent perit Mintoff. As a ‘perit’ he should have know how to build road properly, but he built them to get votes. Road building was a rushed job prior to an election, it still is to a certain extent.
I’ll rename my ass Duminku Mintoff.
“With Joseph as prime minister and Anglu as his deputy, there will be no flooding, ever.”
Careful though, if you place them both side by side you’ve got yourself a dam.
If my street is renamed Triq Dom Mintoff, I’ll move house.
Rename Maghtab dump Gnien Dom Mintoff and leave us in peace.
L-ewwel progett ta’ Muscat ha jkun dan jekk xi darba jitla fil-gvern, li isemmi triq f’kull rahal ghal Dom Mintoff u hu, Anglu Farrugia, Karmenu Vella u Joe Grima imorru jaqtghu iz-zigarella.
Xi pjacir, ma nistax nistenna dak il-mument.