Pole position

"Pole dancing and gentlemen's clubs here in Malta?"

"Oh yes."

"How is it possible?"

"Jien naf! "

"I mean... this is Catholic Malta."

"So?"

"So it's impossible... The Church, the government would never allow it."

"Why not?"

"Because... because it means exposing our male population to temptation."

"So?"

"No, sorry... you're having me on. It couldn't happen here."

"Look, this is the 21st century."

"Now it's my turn to say... so?"

"So even Malta moves with the times. Even if it does do so 20 years behind the rest of Europe."

"I don't call parading scantily clad girls making up to poles moving with the times."

"Oh come on, it's just a pole dancing club... not a reincarnation of Sodom and Gomorrah."

"Let me get this clear: You are telling me... and I'm still not sure if I believe you... that the authorities have given permission for a lewd... girl-stacked club to open here, on our hallowed soil?"

"A gentlemen's pole dancing club, yes."

"Well I'm sorry, but I think it's disgusting."

"And I'd like you to tell me what's disgusting about it."

"Well... I mean... you wouldn't want your daughter to do something like that, now would you?"

"Erm... "

"What?"

"Actually, my daughter is doing something like that."

"Bis-serjetà? "

"Absolutely."

"Gosh, I'm sorry, old man. I'd no idea. Oh how mortifying for you."

"Not at all. She's earning a hell of a lot more than she did behind the counter at HSBC!"

"Aren't you shocked?"

"Not at all. After all, I'm keeping her off the streets."

"I'd say you were putting her onto the streets... metaphorically speaking."

"You're entitled to your opinion. Actually I did even think of getting the wife to participate."

"Surely not."

"No, in the end reason prevailed."

"Thank goodness for that. She is after all a lady of some standing and... may I say... mature years."

"Yes, I don't think Malta's men-about-town are quite ready for fat, ugly, geriatric slappers with hairy armpits and cellulite on their cellulite."

"You know, Paceville isn't the place it used to be."

"True. I can remember when it was a mecca for nothing but wholesome entertainment."

"Very wholesome."

"Yeah, 15 pints of lager in the Roundabout pub, followed by a technicolour puke outside on the pavement, before passing out in Ball Street and waking up in the St Julian's slammer."

"Happy days."

"Tempus fugit, my friend. Gentlemen's clubs are the new Roundabout and pole dancers and Coke are the new 15 pints of lager."

"And what about passing out in Ball Street?"

"Oh they still do that. But these days nobody takes any notice."

"I still think somebody ought to do something about it."

"Somebody?"

"The government or the Church or the GRTU or the EU or... I dunno, the St Julian's council."

"Do something about what?"

"All this lewd behaviour! Female women disporting themselves around poles!."

"Relax, friend... 'Cos I hear on the grapevine that the next innovation in Paceville is going to be lap-dancing clubs."

"Never! Now that I do not believe."

"You'd better, it's coming... and sooner rather than later."

"To say I'm shocked would be the understatement of the decade. The thought of all those innocent young Maltese girls - "

"Innocent?"

"Innocent young Maltese girls disporting themselves all over a crowd of Eastern European men is one thing... but doing it with a gang of northern Scandinavians as well is beyond my comprehension. What is the world coming to?"

"Northern Scandinavians... Eastern Europeans? Hang on, these girls are not dancing with human Poles and Lapps... they are doing it with long, shiny aluminium things and in the you know... laps of seated gentlemen."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh well that's alright then. Where did you say this pole dancing takes place, I fancy some myself!"

"Now you're talking. Spoken like a true Maltese dirty old man."