Last week as I stepped out of my apartment on my way to work I saw a used condom lying in the middle of the pavement - dirty business indeed. I do recall being slightly shocked. The main reason was because Belair, Luxembourg, is an affluent, residential area and my home borders on a family park where children bring their parents to rest and dogs take their owners out for a stroll (a bit less these days). The last place you would expect to find used consumables of the prophylactic kind is this particular road in the city.

Of course my 'shock' was short- lived. It could not be otherwise. You see, I am a Pacevillian through and through. Gozitan blood may run through my veins, but ever since my parents emigrated to this quiet suburb of St Julian's I have seen Paceville shape-shift from little hamlet to unofficial Arab ghetto (in the times of great friendship with the Jamahariya) to the 24/7 bordello that now inhabits the nation's collective psyche.

I lived in Paceville at a time when the only idea of a corner shop was Bonello's Grocer Store and occasionally we'd go for a pizza at Paul's Punch Bowl. I've also seen it grow through its Golden Age and slump to its current condition of semi-organised drink-tertainment for those who lack imagination or alternatives for a night out. Of course Paceville would not be what it is without the possibility to choose from hundreds of types of junk food at unearthly hours of the morning. And there is something quaintly romantic about that idea. A person who hasn't lived there or hasn't been there would have no idea what I am on about.

This is where my rant kicks off this week. Stop doing Paceville down. In normal parlance, I am protesting at the constant use of the term "Paceville" to encompass an imaginary hellhole of frenetic debauchery where the underage children drink their livers to oblivion, scantily clad females gyrate on bartops and every dark corner is occupied by a couple busily copulating without intent to procreate.

Paceville is not a problem. Underage children with easy access to drinking is. Paceville is not a problem. Selling alcohol to minors is. Paceville is not a problem. Lax laws and appeasement of ruthless commercial communities are. Paceville is not a problem. The way we are bringing up our children is. Shall I go on? No. I'll talk to you about condoms. Condoms are not a problem. Irresponsible sex is. Condoms are not a problem. Believing that everyone can remain pure until the day they exchange vows is. Condoms are not an issue. Our mentality is.

"Paceville" and "condoms" - they are a good exercise in collective hermeneutics. We do not really mean "Paceville" and "condoms" when we use the words. In our brains we have the hellhole and the uncontrolled, unbridled debauchery that is sex. How else do you explain Xarabank's ridiculous question: "Should we close Paceville?" Close Paceville? What is that? How else am I supposed to decipher the Bishop of Gozo's railing against the deceptive promotion of the use of condoms? Sometimes I wonder whether time has stood still. Weren't we discussing "the Paceville Problem" a decade ago? I am also quite sure that the first KSU AGM I attended, back in 1993, discussed the possibility of installing a condom machine on campus - a motion that was stonewalled by a Theology students (read Catholic student) movement.

Unfortunately the discussion is, and remains, flawed. We do not discuss the real root of the problems because we have coined new words and symbols that replace them. Paceville is an imaginary monster like Beowulf's Grendel. Occasionally we get a politician or police Superintendent who will offer a draconian solution to slay the fire-breathing dragon. We really, really hope that by erasing Paceville from the face of the island we could have all our ills solved. That by enforcing a national embargo on condoms fewer people will elect to practise convoluted contortionism behind the steamy windows of their private vehicle. It's like hoping that a ban on the words Labour and Nationalist would mean no more partisan thinking and that we would have real politicians in Parliament.

Words are much more powerful than we would really ever imagine. Take Nicolas Sarkozy, the current French supreme. His predecessor, (the wonderfully named Jacques René Chirac) had a predilection for abstract nouns. It appears that in one speech Chirac managed to squeeze 13 of them like liberty, humanity and more. Sarkozy prefers verbs. His favourite word is "I", mostly followed by "want". The man is a doer with slogans like "work more to earn more" - and his speeches reflect his attitude.

Or take Dawkins. Richard "the Atheist" Dawkins. His latest contribution to the New Statesman is all about the Christ in Christmas. In the article he dwells, among other things, on the scriptural twist that transformed Isaiah's Hebrew for "young woman" into "virgin" thus elevating the status of virginity for eternity. He moves on to what he calls seasonal opportunism as the word "Christ" is gradually written out of Christmas... and Americans are busy wishing "Happy Holiday Season", buy "Holiday presents" and might even hang a "Holiday Stocking".

Words they may all be but we should be more careful about the significance we attribute to all of them. At least we should be aware of the different perceptions that could underlie whatever we say. Whatever the case, believe me, when I say I hope that if you are out revelling in Paceville do not drink and drive. Remember that disposal of your consumables in appropriate containers will make many a Paceville resident happier at the end of the day.

Merry Christmas.