Malta’s cultural ambassador… in waiting…

A recent report in The Times informed us of the startling fact that a certain Joseph Calleja had been appointed – or should that be anointed – as Malta’s ambassador of culture.

One of my relatives was perspicacious enough to say that my terpsichoreal skills reminded her of a cross between Michael Flatley and Gene Kelly

And I want to know why? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against the guy: pleasant enough singing voice... if a little on the high side for my taste... but cultural ambassador?

No the thing that really riles me is... OK I’ll come straight out with it... the thing that really tees me of is that they (Whoever they are) didn’t even give me first refusal! Can you believe it?

A man with my multifarious cultural credentials... not a sniff! Ludicrous. Of course I’m not saying I would have been a shoo-in for the post, but I do maintain that I am – by far – the most qualified.

Singing, you want singing? I’ll have you know that my karaoke rendition of that great Italian aria O sole mio was compared to that of, no less a divo than Andrea Boccelli... unfavourably compared it’s true – but compared nevertheless.

And when it comes to the acting profession... I can modestly claim to be in a class of my own. Don’t take my word for it: My wife’s appraisal of my performance as the fourth shepherd (on the left) in our parish’s Christmas nativity play last year should lay to rest all doubt.

She dubbed it: “Unbelievable!” And she added: “I never before realised that one of the shepherds had both a pronounced limp and a very noticeable facial twitch.” I actually had the presence of mind to add those Stanislavskian touches to my character – whatever the director said. It made up for not having any lines to say.

And my expertise in the performing arts is not just confined to acting and singing, I would modestly also claim to have a certain prodigious talent as a dancer. People still talk about the time I got up on a table at my niece’s wedding and treated the guests to my solo version of River Dance, which was warmly jeered.

Indeed one of my relatives was perspicacious enough to say that my terpsichoreal skills reminded her of a cross between Michael Flatley and Gene Kelly... until that is... I fell off the table.

To tell you the truth I don’t remember much about it myself, being somewhat bladdered at the time, but a video exists and I have to say I really am a very nifty little mover. And – if it’s not too late – I shall make sure a copy of said video gets to the adjudicating panel for Malta’s cultural ambassador... just as soon as I’ve cut out the footage of me throwing up all over the bridegroom’s mother.

But if anyone still doubted my credentials as a worthy and highly qualified cultural ambassador for our island state, all speculation would dissipate when assessing my qualities as an artist and sculptor.

Without wishing to sound immodest I would draw your – and the adjudicating panel’s – attention to my body of work as a painter in oils. Indeed probably my greatest masterpiece... Għajn Tuffieħa Bay at sunset... holds pride of place in my home. It now hangs proudly on the wall of the downstairs loo, (My wife won’t have it anywhere else) a kaleidoscope of earth colours and chiaroscuro.

For some reason there was a certain amount of consternation among the beginners’ art class to which I belong. Some members of little imagination failed to understand why some of the undercliff, instead of being painted in shades of brown, suddenly became bright blue.

I brazened it out by replying that in my fertile imagination, the undercliff partly reflected the sky... so there. In truth, what happened was that I discovered a sudden shortage of burnt ochre in the painting-by-numbers box, but a surfeit of ultramarine. So... I did what any other avant garde artist would have done... I compromised – and – if I may say so; it looks terrific.

So come on Joseph Calleja, if you can match that CV you’re a better man than I, but frankly... I think I win hands down.