For whom the bell tolls: “trapass”

Delia has been constantly using the Maltese word trapass without knowing what it means. He uses it to mean ‘passage’. It does indeed: the passage to the afterlife.

It must have sounded like an important lawyer-type word that he thought would be a good way to impress the injoranti of Sliema (you know who you are, chaps – and this time I’ll be nice and avoid being rude about the teenage women in their 40s and 50s) and various villages.

“Maaaa, how clever Adrian is, kemm hu bravu. He says trapass. Adrian! Adrian! Our Moses with a pile of financial problems and shady clients will lead us out of the desert! A man living off credit cards and overdrafts at the age of 50 and with a wife and five children is going to solve the nation’s problems and make our glorious party victorious again! Let’s take our party back! Adrian!”

I think I’ll avoid social gatherings in Malta for the next year or so. If I have to listen to another brainless chicken or read its Facebook ‘reasoning’, I might be tempted to wring its neck, pluck it and broil it. Because now we’re even defending men who go with prostitutes who are trafficked into Malta: “U ejja miskin.” The man is miskin and the trafficked woman is an object.

What a sick society: brainless chickens with the morality of a goat.