Għax jekk is-sesswalita’ ta’ persuna (fil-każ tagħna lesbjana) ma tagħmilhiex aktar jew inqas kapaċi, għaliex l-istat matrimonjali (ta’ ġenitur) għandha tagħmilha aktar speċjali fil-qadi ta’ dmirijietha?

Inkella ngħidu “U ijja, mhux xorta, mur ara”, u nibqgħu għaddejjin kif aħna.

It’s no wonder florists are out of work.

“Dak fih daqqa”

OR

“Dak tajjeb ghax-zwieg.”

Women like yours there don’t make coffee for the man who can make it himself because they think they are in the coffee-making gender, but as a way into his confidence and eventually, if they think it will make their boring lives more interesting, his Y-fronts.

First they make him coffee. Then they start stopping for a bit of a natter while he drinks it. Then he starts letting slip one indiscretion after another because the coffee-maker understands him and commiserates, and the next thing you know, the coffee-maker is installed in a flat at Fort Cambridge with a coffee-maker of her own, made in The Philippines (or a maisonette in Birkirkara, depending on the budget).

U imbaghad jghidu ghar-Russi u r-Rumeni.

It’s boredom, Millie, just plain old boredom. It isn’t even trying to cadge an easy life free-loading off some man, because they will even go after a man on an average salary. They want to feel like they’re some kind of exciting seductress.

But what you DON’T know is that some of my vilest attackers are women.

Most of the people calling me ‘ugly witch’ are women, not men.

I’m done with all that, and they’ve left Malta. The way I cope, myself, is by avoiding it all. I leave the house only when I have to, push back through the front door with a sigh of relief, and see and speak to only those people who don’t make me desperate with the tedium of their groundhog day behaviour.

Let’s face it: Maltese life has long been an anachronism. It must be at least 150 years since people anywhere else in Europe grew from birth to death among the very same people in the very same small area.

But meanwhile, people have grown to be more sophisticated and have different expectations of life to those of 150 years ago, and yet they remain trapped among the same people in the same place. Personal growth is impossible unless you make a determined effort.

I am quite certain that this is the main reason for the high rate of depression, tension, anger and anxiety among Maltese people.

That, and the constant feeling of being watched in a situation where everywhere you go, somebody recognises you and observes you. There is a reason why privacy is a fundamental human right, because without it you can go loopy.

It’s simple: you really don’t have to socialise constantly. That is truly a Maltese disease. If people get on your nerves or get you down or bore you, don’t see them or see somebody else.

In Malta people LOVE to move around in cliques and crowds and never leave the house unless they’re meeting a bunch of other people. They do this, not to put too fine a point on it, because they don’t know what to do with themselves (or with their boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife) otherwise. But gangs police each other, and in a place where you have precious little privacy anyway, that’s the last thing you need: a clique.

I’m waiting for it.

It is even worse than that. They are almost trying to ridicule anyone considering a mother for a top post.