If I were from Tunbridge Wells, I'd be able to sign as "Disgusted". I mean to say, a whole 90 minutes or so of undiluted "Porn" and not a whimper from the Friggieri woman. And the Bishop of Gozo, where was he? Stupefyingly conspicuous by his absence, that's where.
How did this excuse for theatrical representation get a licence from the Thought Police to be put on, letting unsuspecting adults sully their psyches with horrific images, foul innuendo and - not to put too fine a point on it - downright sinful sinfulness? Shocking, shocking and even more shocking and the people who produced it should not be allowed to get away with it: a Christian Fatwa should be declared and they should be hounded to the very ends of Christendom.
You might have noticed that I'm kidding. If you didn't, you should not be reading this column as you have had a very serious sense of humour bypass for not twigging that I was being satirical. OK, I was being heavily, over-the-top, ham-fistedly satirical, to the extent that I was almost tempted to back-space and start over.
The theatrical oeuvre to which I was referring is, of course Porn, which as you read this still has a couple of performances to run at the MITP. If you can get your hands on tickets, don't miss it: in all respects, it is one of the most enjoyable times I've had at a theatre in years and I'm not restricting myself to Malta, either.
After the show, we tried out a new place, just opposite, called Aroma and it was another enjoyable experience. You'll excuse my descending into "fish and chips" writing, an activity with which I was denigrated by a certain individual less than appreciative of my talents last week (he thought he was denigrating me, anyway) but we rather enjoyed the meal we had there.
We also enjoyed the delicious irony - unconscious though it was - spouted by a member of the "ladies who lunch" genus, who got onto her high horse about "all these immigrants and the HIV, maaa". One of her group made the entirely reasonable point that she would have to sleep with a carrier to be at risk, to which our heroine responded: "But what if he rapes me, or my daughter, maaa", demonstrating a grasp of reality and a set of priorities that is astounding in its shallowness.
Almost equally ironic was the fact that this woman was being intolerant (to put it politely) about members of a minority in the company of a number of members of another type of minority. It's small wonder that some of our politicians are falling to the temptation to pander to the gallery on immigration, with IQs of this level running wild.
I spotted a letter last week which ranted about immigration and its attendant ills. I'm not sure if he wasn't trying to be funny, though I doubt it, but in the course of his diatribe, he even scribbled something relatively coherent about there being some sort of backlash against Harry Potter because of the desire to protect Muslims from offence.
In fact, the only backlash against the Potter canon had come from some sector of the Christian Fundamentalist Movement, back a few years. Not that this makes the backlash any less ludicrous, of course, but to blame it on Islam is particularly silly.
We really have to stop taking things so seriously, though. It wasn't reported, as court proceedings in Gozo don't tend to attract coverage, but through Daphne Caruana Galizia's blog I learnt that a magistrate had chucked out those silly cases brought against the people who donned what seemed to be (to the cops, anyway) clerical garb during the Nadur carnival.
Perhaps they should have produced some expert witnesses: I'm sure the Gozitan Curia would have supplied some, or else they could have stuck their head out of the court room window and shouted for one from the cathedral, next door.
If you want an example of how things are taken with a dose of gravitas that borders on the gorblimey, you could do worse than have a rummage into Dr Owen Bonnici's Facebook page some days ago.
I thought it would be a wheeze to tease him mildly about the upcoming celebrations to do with Freedom Day - some of the comments (not from young Owen, of course, who is more sensible than that) were so self-righteous that I had to wonder whether they were being played for a laugh.
But, no, what with being told I write in a "fish and chips" style and what with having heard and read interminable perorations in similar vein in the (fish and) chip wrapper that masquerades as a Sunday paper with Labour leanings, I have to conclude they were being serious.
On a final culinary note: If you want a decent snack in a friendly bar, try Al Capone's in Nadur.
imbocca@gmail.com, www.timesofmalta.com/blogs