Spot on!

The other day another "invitation" to the public went out; this time it was by Super One Television for talented (operative word, that) child performers. I was flummoxed. The clip that accompanied the information showed Julie Pomorsky and Brendan Borg when they were still kids; is it possible that since then, no other couple of children have been deemed good enough to star in a demo tape-cum-publicity campaign?

And, speaking of ego trips, Gateway to Miss World (Net Television, Sunday afternoons), is supposed to be a series of interviews by Mireille Bonello with hopefuls for one of the sundry titles on offer, so that the rest of us may be able to judge the girls (I refuse to call them young ladies) upon criteria other than looks and vital statistics.

The persons behind the programme I happened to catch must have a very weird sense of humour; most of the airtime was taken up with (what I hope were) out-takes of Ms Bonello acting the fool and/or fluffing, as the case may be.

The rest included her asking the poor contestants questions like "Didn't you know you ought to take a car door with you to your desert island?" (Reason: so that if you feel hot you can wind down the window). One of the contestants, incidentally, did not even know who the first Pope was.

But I was especially perturbed when, after one of them said that she works as a facilitator, someone decided to put in that hideous canned laughter, rather as if she had said something hilarious. Believe you me, this is one of the most challenging yet rewarding jobs one may choose.

That the sanctuary attached to the Discalced Carmelite convent in Birkirkara is the ideal church for claustrophobics is a well-known fact. However, last Wednesday, this statement was turned on its head. It was standing room only, if that.

The special Mass celebrated by Fr Tonio, I was told, was part of the activities regularly organised by Alfred Zammit (Super One Television) and his Kalamita crew.

Isn't it a pity that there is no way of getting this type of message across other than through the associated media and the church bulletin?

I am in two minds about whether to believe those disc-jockeys who give us lists of names of devotees who are supposed to have phoned or written in with requests (and, it goes without saying, fulsome praise for their programmes).

However a "good news" item - alas, not from Malta, but from Milwaukee, Wisconsin - showed this to have occurred at least once.

Maggie Lee and John McHugh, from La Crosse, had e-mailed Sirius Satellite Radio Station, requesting a couple of mainly big band melodies for the occasion. The DJ Lee Arnold asked for a whole playlist; and the thing snowballed from there.

DJ Lee Arnold played the couple's songs, complete with personalised dedications over the air. Company spokesperson Elise Brown succinctly described the initiative as "neat". Incidentally, and appropriately, the couple's wedding song will be "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole.

That was, therefore, one satisfactory finale, totally at odds with this week's aborted Bondi+ which by the by was one of the very few recorded ones in the series.

It seems that Lou Bondi at one point extended a not altogether naive and cordial invitation to Grace Borg, the gist of which was that she ought to take him to court because he (thrice) called her a liar.

This happened after a lot of balderdash had been uttered about whether or not "local journalists" (and here I plead innocent) had schemed to incite the general public not to vote for the other Maltese person who was representing Malta - or not! - in that event that goes by the name of Eurovision Song Festival although its current parameters have made it anything but European.

Viewers who do not know - or care less - who is taking whom to court, would not know the niceties of sub judice lawsuits. The rest of us simply bate our breath. Or not.

The atmosphere became somewhat like the one obtaining in a worms' restaurant - with the protagonists dishing the dirt and Keith Camilleri playing the hapless base of the isosceles triangle... the apex of which was Ms Borg leaving the set - and the programme - half an hour before the credits ought to have rolled.

So now we know. The euro is "42c equivalent". How many euros would it take, I wonder, for me to get a nejl ekstenxin?

It's a sign of the times, having a trade name written completely in lower case letters and used as the generic term; as yet, however, it's not (yet) a Walkman - it's a personal stereo. It's not a Play Station - it's a games console. It's not a Biro - it's a ballpoint. In a telephone number, "0" signifies "zero", and not the letter "O". And so forth.

Word of the week is Umphiumhlope! which roughly translates as "good luck" in Zulu. This was how Jabu Sitholer, Zulu weatherman on the South African Broadcasting Corporation, used to sign off his bulletins.

He was one of the very few high-profile Africans who had admitted they had AIDs, and now... he'd got a bird's eye view of the climate change, as it were.