Tenor Joseph Calleja was on Sky News earlier last week. And for five whole minutes, Maltese life stopped and became one exclamation mark: Sky News! The international television channel! Interviewed by Adam Boulton!

The fundamental problem is that we tend to think that everywhere is the Eurovision- Kristina Chetcuti

I have to admit I have absolutely no idea what Calleja was saying for the minute he came on screen, the room I was in transformed into a football ground terrace with squeals of “Woo-hoo” and “Go Joseph” and “Show ’em”.

Amid the great cheers, everyone milled round the television set with smartphones in hand snapping away at the screen. If a truck selling Malta flags had suddenly materialised by the window, we would have trouped to buy them by the dozen.

So busy were we celebrating, that we only grasped a word here and there of what the whole thing was about. For all we know Calleja could have been saying: “I am throwing in the towel – no more opera for me; I’m setting up a stall, selling qubbajd.” We would have still cheered, because the main thing was that he was on Sky News (“Sky News ta!”).

We can’t help it. Whenever a Maltese breaks through the international media, our reaction is automatic: we want to screech with pride. I believe it’s the only time when the nation’s sentiment is on the same wavelength. Even The Times got all thrilled, saying the day after that British news was “temporarily dominated” by Malta’s biggest export yesterday.

This enthusiasm partly stems from a nation’s need to cheer. It’s an innate need of human nature. That’s how the idea of the Olympics, some time in 700 BC, came about, after all.

Then we had the Romans, with their gladiators and chariot-racing and lion-wrestling and what not. Man needs to suspend his life and for a moment cheer for an achievement that is not for him to get, but it’s for him to bask in the glory of the success, because of that common denominator called nationality.

However, in our case, it also derives from the fact that we are a miniscule nation. Verily, we believe we are the centre of the world, but we are not myopic – we look at the map and we can figure out that even though we are The World’s Most Important Place, chances are that people may not see our grandeur because of our size.

Hence we adore any chance of flaunting ourselves with the rest of the world, via what we call “representatives of Malta”. And if possible, we trail behind them armed with George Cross flags and chants of “Għax għandna lil – insert name – aħna magħqudin”.

It’s known also as the ‘small country complex’. You can’t expect Americans to wave the flag every time a celebrity of theirs makes it big internationally. There’d be so much waving we’d solve the whole world’s alternative energy problem.

However, it’s fair to note that we are not the only nation inflicted with this patriotic fervour. Peruvians, for example, are exactly the same.

Our link with Peru is, of course, our President, who will be going to to do voluntary work in one of the cities there. But believe it or not, it is actually a country with its own, home-grown, international celebrities too.

Their world-renowned tenor Juan Diego Flórez, is mobbed every time he steps out in the streets in Lima and his wedding had to be televised live on national television – with the grandeur of a royal wedding – due to public pressure.

We are not quite there yet, but near enough. The fact that Calleja has reached international stardom makes us giddy with frenzy.

But of course, we might need to slightly curb our vivacity. Cheering in front of television is one thing, waving the Maltese flag at the Met in New York when Calleja is performing a main role, is quite another thing altogether.

The fundamental problem is that we tend to think that everywhere is the Eurovision. So, irrespective of whether the location is appropriate, we kit ourselves in red and white and start quoting off our patriotic manual, dishing out phrases like: “flying the Maltese flag”, “an honour for Malta” and “an ambassador of the Maltese heart”, so on so forth.

Which is why, this being Eurovision week, we all really should get into it. There is a lot of cheering in our heart aching to get out and the Eurovision is the perfect valve.

All we need to do is arm ourselves with some single malt, embrace (not puh-puh) the fact that it’s all oh-so-kitsch, fish out a Maltese flag, and shriek whenever there’s Malta’s ‘representative’, ‘honouring’ us on stage.

It doesn’t matter if we get nil points – everyone is too groggy to notice anyway.

krischetcuti@gmail.com