You're reading this on Christmas Eve. On this day, of all the days in the year, in this year in particular, it might be appropriate for you - yes, you - to try to remember the story of Christmas and perhaps resolve to act a bit more as if you believe in the message. Don't take this personally, I don't know you, after all, but you will see what I'm getting at.

You know the story I mean, don't you? Yes, that's the one: the one about the young couple who had to leave their own country because of some tyrant or other. The story goes on about how they went from place to place trying to find somewhere to shelter and for the girl to have her baby and how eventually they ended up in a stable, like animals.

Come on, you know where I'm going with this, don't you?

Imagine, for a moment, that this young couple were on a leaking boat and that they fetched up in St Julians, on a Tuesday, and they then wandered to the door of a restaurant where Norman Lowell and his band of admirers are busy stuffing their faces, as a prelude to one of Lowell's raving rants about the purity of the Europid and the sanctity of our shores.

What price a warm welcome for them then, I wonder?

What are the chances that one of the assembled company would stand up and give a chair to the heavily pregnant girl? And then serve them with some warm food, before going out into the rain to get a car to take her for some basic medical help?

Remember, these two young people are not Europids: notwithstanding the Christmas-card imagery which makes them look like pretty much perfect WASPs, they're Arabs or Jews (and that's not much of a difference, because like us, they're basically Middle Eastern) and thus they're not likely to be blue-eyed blond(e)s, on whose neck the assembled racists will fall with welcoming arms opened wide, the milk of human kindness flowing from every gland.

No, the more likely response from the Proud Defenders of Our Nation (it's Christmas, I won't call them Revoltingly Rightist Racists this week) will be "Oy, you, Jew Boy, take your Arab companion and get out of our country".

And the assembled company of losers and social inadequates will then start chanting "Barra, barra, barra, barra", which for those of you who don't speak Maltese, means "Out, out, out, out".

If you think I'm exaggerating, then, hey, that's your right. After all, the Christmas story is only a story and not meant to be taken seriously, so the Proud Defenders of Our Nation can carry on with their Stout Fight, invoking nationalism and Christian Piety all they like.

Be off with you

I have very little time for Dr Emy Bezzina and his pompous preaching whenever there's a camera anywhere in the vicinity, but I have to acknowledge, as grudgingly as you like, that he does have a point about divorce.

Before the more fervent among you reach for their keyboards to lambaste me for becoming a Satan Worshipper during these pious times, let me hasten to say that what I think he has a point about is the one about the state having a duty to regulate the dissolution of the civil contract of marriage.

This does not mean that divorce, if made available as a means to regulate said civil contract, will become mandatory for all married couples, as the people whose knees jerk every time the subject is raised seem to want us to think. If you think divorce is wrong and against your religion and whatever, then don't get divorced. Simple.

But please don't get all sanctimonious on me and start spouting garbage about the family being endangered and how moral values will go down the tube if divorce is brought in to our civil law system. Anyone with even a single eye in one's head can see that "the family" is not exactly alive and well in Malta and our moral values are as good or bad as anywhere else in the world.

I have no doubt that the powers that be will not accept that it's about time the country got real. The reality is that it is a stark fact that families are crashing and burning all over the place. It is an equally stark fact that the absence of a system properly to regulate the dissolution of the contract of marriage has led to human unhappiness that can be alleviated.

But from what I read of the government's position on divorce, there's about the same chance that divorce will be introduced as there would have been a chance that Joseph and Mary be welcomed into Malta by Lowell's minions.

From the government's point of view, it seems, Dr Bezzina and his stance are just a little bit of a joke, something to be chuckled about fondly, because, really, "the people are afraid" of divorce.

With all due respect, that's tosh, Mr Junior Minister (for this is how the Parliamentary Secretary was described in the Indian news source where I spotted his comments first, albeit they were later carried by this paper too).

The people are not, actually, afraid of divorce, because they're going around getting separated, setting up alternate families and generally getting on with being no longer married to each other with gay abandon.

All of which hardly gives me the impression that they're trembling in a corner lest someone introduces divorce into our bastion of morality and high moral values.

Is it too much to ask for people to get out of other people's bedrooms (except for the ones who are there by invitation, that is)? Why do some people think they can impose their own morality, exemplary as it may be, on everyone else? The law should only interfere when society genuinely needs its interference.

Now there's a concept that is alien to most governments.

Humbug

As usual, and this year with even greater serendipity than usual, it being Christmas Eve an'all, I will use the medium of this column to extend Season's Greetings to you and yours. We are not sending out cards this year, and nor will we be making a donation to a charitable institution (that is to say, we will make donations but not instead of sending cards).

I hope you will be making good use of your time off to gear yourself up for the up-coming year.

For instance, if you run a local TV station, why not see about getting programming in place that does not involve folk with the charisma of a dead elk trying to flog people junk? Or how about examining your consciences and determining whether using people's misfortunes as bread and circuses, to say nothing of pocket lining, is the right thing to do?

Yeah, sure, I know that the quality of our television programming is not the most important issue that faces the country, but hey, our political parties, bless'em, have shied away from doing the usual stupid stuff that inspires me to get on their cases, so I've nothing much to write about, now that I've exhausted the moral points I wanted to make.

And on the food front

It's that time of the year when we all get stuffed in memory of the Christmas story I told you in the first bit of this week's little effort and in the interests of research, I have been doing my bit to see that you are duly informed about where to go so you can imitate a turkey at about this time of the year.

Along with some colleagues, I repaired to a place called Tal-Familja, down Marsascala way, for a celebratory lunch on Monday.

Suffice it to say we staggered out about two hours later having eaten and drunk to our heart's content, if not to its best health. The food was good, the quantity amazing and the service friendly - the place, in fact, is well named.

Actually, it's named better than reality, because I've never had a family meal served so well.

Anyway, have a Happy Christmas - I'll wish you a prosperous New Year next week.

bocca@waldonet.net.mt