Imagine if I were with Mrs Austin Gatt. What would he have done? Come past for the sixth time in a thong, no doubt.
So yesterday I sat down to lunch at the window-table of a restaurant in Valletta’s South Street, when Franco Debono strutted past.
“Look, there’s Franco Debono,” my companion said, because I hadn’t noticed him, being rather an oblivious sort.
But he had clearly noticed us, because he immediately strutted past again in the opposition direction.
Then he came by again, this time speaking importantly on his Magic Phone, in one of those scenes where you hope for his sake that it won’t ring while he’s bragging on.
Ten minutes later he went by again, this time with his jacket slung casually from one finger over his shoulder.
Then he came past again, isellem lin-nies.
And then he walked past again, studiously looking straight ahead.
Then he walked past again, with his jacket back on.
“Why does he keep nipping in and out of the office?” I asked my companion.
“He’s not nipping in and out of the office. He’s walking up and down the street at strategic intervals.”
Maybe he hoped that, floored by admiration of his rooster-like walk, I’d tap on the glass and mouth “Cooo-eeee, Franco! Come and join us!”
But my veal was far more interesting.
I should give Mrs Austin Gatt a ring and suggest lunch at a South Street window-table one of these days. But she’s probably too serious and grown-up to participate in any taunting of male admirers.
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This maverick is seriously toying with the idea of contesting the post of PN deputy leader! He is absolutely out of his mind.
Daphne? An oblivious sort? I don’t think so.
I saw him too yesterday in front of the Law Courts ranting at Simon Busuttil.
I noticed that people were walking past him openly laughing at him (including myself). When will he realize what a figure of ridicule he is?
Indeed. One of life’s tragedies is not realising when one makes a serious fool of himself.
You must have disrupted his flow pattern, because he usually goes up past the opera house, into Zachary Street, back to Republic Street past St. John’s, first right past the courts, turns right again on the Siege Memorial followed by a left onto Premier (difficult chicane that), and then proceeds in a diagonal across Piazza Regina to the final straight down Republic Street in the opposite direction.
Shopkeepers have started to clock him.
If it’s 10.30, it must be Franco passing by. Time for a capuccino and ‘tnejn tal-haxu” .
[Daphne – Ah, the sophistication of city life!]
polis(h)
‘Tal-Haxu’? I thought it was Irkotta, or is it ricotta?
Don’t knock the “tnejn tal-haxu” as empires are built on these flakey beauties, just ask John Dalli.
Citizen Smith : Let’s not go down the irkotta/rikotta/arkotta thread again. We have been there, just have a look in the archives.
Franco has a response for your comment:
Franco Debono
Oct 31, 2012 @ 13:30:32
incredible
don’t i even have a right to go anywhere i like in valletta? i spend whole days in valletta. i have my office in valletta – strait str corner with south str
i am a lawyer and work in court and i attend parliament regularly.
so what’s your problem?
dont i have a right to walk up and down the street where my office is whilst i wait for someone?
incredible!
@ Franco
Jeez, you just got caught out hook, line and sinker by your own comment. You call yourself a lawyer?
By the way you don’t walk, but you seem to trot, errr.. like a pony, maybe?
@ Franco
By the way… The ‘Gut’ really does suit you…
Kemm gab fl-English dan? Franco dear the first letter in the beginning of a sentence should be a capital letter and the pronoun “I” is also in capitals, good boy.
Franco averaged 76% in his English home work, Rita.
Business must be slow, Franco, because it appears that you spend more time plying up and down streets, talking to your phone, even when switched off, than you spend inside your office with clients.
Hilarious. Made my day. Vera ssibhom, Daphne.
We agree. Stick to veal. Why opt for (S)corned beef?
Hagiography ?
Definition of hagiography
noun
[mass noun]
the writing of the lives of saints.
[count noun] a biography that treats its subject with undue reverence: a hagiography which is designed to serve a political agenda
http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/view/20121031/local/mintoff.443437
Another book about is – Salvatur.
May the bastard rot in hell.
Your wish is granted
Probably Google Maps App on his ‘smart’phone was indicating the wrong direction.
He’s a politician. He must be seen by the public and walking up and down a street is a way to be seen. The media are ignoring the fellow in favour of Dalli, so he needs to find ways to be seen.
On the other hand one could argue that you were at the said restaurant next to the window to spy on Franco Debono. SHAME ON YOU! :o
You should have made his day by at least waving to him.
Shame on you Daphne, the least you could have done was offer him a ‘stretto’. Tsk, tsk.
True. You should have waved at him and given him a good mocking grin.
I’m certain he’d have been ‘gut’ted.
Daphne, you should have asked him for a photograph with you and your companion. That’s what Brad Pitt did when he was enjoying some private time with Angelina Jolie in another Valletta restaurant and Franco Debono turned up there accidentally.
Ara vera pulcinell, u bniedem miskin.
Did you say “the gut suits him” or should that be “the suit guts him”?
Franco will look damn fine in that rooster costume for Halloween.
I was under the impression that he was a top criminal lawyer.
I would not have thought that in that exalted position he would have had the time to kerb crawl.
Didn’t he say that he doesn’t read your blog?
Probably someone reads it out for him. On his mobile.