I'm going to hell and it's all your fault. I mean, why else would I do it? Indulge in such behaviour, condemned since the dawn of time by worthies such as Chaucer's clerical gentleman.
It's on your behalf, after all, that I frequent these dens of iniquity, havens of temptation, endangering my moral health, together with my physical well-being.
The more erudite among you will have twigged that it is the sin of gluttony to which I am pleading guilty, seeking to mitigate my transgressions by transferring some of the fault on to you: it's not my fault, your Honour, they made me do it. And there were circumstances that led me there, too, so I should only serve a few millennia in Purgatory.
Oh, Purgatory doesn't exist anymore? Darn, you wouldn't consider a get-out-of-jail-free card, would you, O vengeful master?
Circumstances did indeed conspire to ensure that I had to, just had to, visit a number of estimable catering establishments, all of which deserve to be reported on, over the long weekend. My descent into turpitude commenced on Thursday, when we trotted off to Antica Roma for a snack and beverage, which turned into a rather good pizza and too much wine, in excellent surroundings.
On Friday, a business meeting with light refreshment metamorphosed into re-discovering Chez Philippe in Gzira, now under new management and providing excellent stuff - so much so that I was there again on Thursday, though since I write this on Wednesday, I'll have to report back. The evening up north saw us with a take-away pizza from Victoria Hotspurs and a very good exemplar of its genre it was too. Saturday lunch was a lampuka at the St Patrick's Hotel in Xlendi, with a fish so fresh that it was still twitching and service to match. In the evening we were fed like kings, but at friends' so you needn't know about it.
Sunday lunch was with the ancestor at Mamma Mia in Ta' Xbiex, where I am pleased to report excellent value for money in service and fare is still to be had - some places never change. The same can be said for Otters where Monday evening was spent in the cooling breeze - not to have it thought that we risked starvation over the day, we dropped in to Mo's Diner for a salad. And to close off the long weekend, on Tuesday we repaired to La Terazza in Xlendi for the usual orgy of pizza preceded by focaccia and washed down with that perfidious Very Sexy Shiraz.
Like the man said, it's a filthy job, but someone has to do it.
I'm going to hell, as well, for daring to expound the thought, live and on air, that it's about time the debate about divorce wasn't allowed to concern itself with "whether" but with "how", a thought that must have sent tremors of horror running through the ranks of our dearly-beloved politicians, who must be squirming on the horns of the dilemma on which they find themselves neatly impaled.
Reason and objectivity dictate that there's absolutely no reason why divorce for the civil side of marriage should remain unavailable in Malta. Its availability will not make it mandatory for everyone to divorce at least once and it will avoid the crass hypocrisy of so many sham marriages but, still, the debate rages about whether it should be brought in.
I'm not the only one going to hell, though. The management of Favourite TV will be joining me for allowing a whole programme to be dedicated to the mocking of the afflicted. On Sunday, in between bouts of the deadly sin to which I referred already, I was channel surfing and came across an interview being held with Paul Chetcuti Caruana, currently mayor of Mosta.
The gentleman is clearly afflicted with a sense of being justified in feeling persecuted and with a sense of omniscience that the programme was rendered reprehensible to anyone with a modicum of decency or good taste. The interviewer, acting contrarily to anyone with such an attribute, egged him on, extracting, without much difficulty, statements of such profound direness that I was, not to put too fine a point on it, disgusted.
Every pronouncement of the interviewee was received with what seemed to be glee at the sensationalism being fomented on the part of the interviewer, who was more interested in that than in protecting his guest from himself.
If the Broadcasting Authority do nothing about this programme (it was called Vespri) then they are abdicating their obligation to ensure that balance and objectivity are maintained.
imbocca@gmail.com, www.timesofmalta.com/blogs