Hot butter, hot bother

I have to admit, this World Cup is less than 24 hours old and I’m tired already, but it’s nothing to do with the late night schedules.

First, I had to wade through countless Facebook posts where a very sudden bout of political conscience seems to have washed all over everyone, a tsunami of stupidity equal to the fake, misinformed concern about Joseph Kony’s doings. Now we have commentators (who, has to be said, think the 4-2-3-1 is the prefix for an international phonecall to the Solomon Islands) asking us to boycott the World Cup, because it’s in Brazil, there’s poverty, their government spent a lot of money on a sport where “22 men chase a pigskin”, the rainforest, the like.

While I appreciate their goodness of heart, even though I doubt whether they know what the protests are actually about, I wonder where these people were four years ago when the World Cup was held in South Africa, so very far from Utopia, and whether they will keep up this commendable streak of moral honesty in four years’ time when the bloated FIFA circus will take its show to Russia, and then, four years later, to the airconditioned slave built stadiums of Qatar.

The satirical image that got Sandro Micallef's dander up... but he did say those words!

And of course it seems none of these have an idea about the efforts by Lula and Rousseff (who??) to provide better healthcare and more schools in Brazil. What goes on TV seems to be the bible these days.

Yet – it’s the World Cup, so please, we’d love to be entertained. Cheese rolling, the only sport where no commercial interests are involved (unverified statement, probably wrong) gets stale after a while.

I’m waiting for Italy vs England with the same trepidation of a man about to have his molars pulled out – two years ago it was a fine spectacle on TV, but maybe a bit less on the streets and in the bars. This time round I don’t wish to get too heavy on the fans, for, after my forays in various entertainment spots two years ago during Euro 2012, I got to understand fan psychology a bit better.

(Well, not really, for driving drunk and honking and waving somebody else’s flag while screaming abuse at anyone wearing a different colour reminds me of scenes in a Middle Eastern coup d’etat.)

The entertainment on Maltese telly has now switched to English commentary, which is a shame – and this happened because the Maltese commentary at Euro 2012 sucked, badly. I said as much two years ago and I will not, for the sake of political correctness, retract my comments. Minutes before the competition started, some page entirely dedicated to commentary bloopers appeared on Facebook, in what I read to be not only as a clear indication that Maltese audiences aren’t that pleased with the way Maltese journalists report football, but also as a totally legit, holy right to satire.

I promised myself, a couple of weeks ago, not to wade into the commentary controversy again but like a bald version of Al Pacino in The Godfather III I have to exclaim, “just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

It’s Friday afternoon and here I am spitting half a mug of coffee onto my laptop: TVM journalist Sandro Micallef threatening said Facebook page with legal action if they use his image, or refer to him in a humorous or satirical manner. So I read it again to make sure I understood correctly, and duly spat out the other half of the coffee.

Let me get this straight, Sandro – are you threatening a Facebook page with legal action because they poked fun at you? Well I’m sorry, but your now-famous expression about knives sinking into hot butter (Philip Larkin comes to mind) wasn’t exactly top footie jargon. You were trending on Facebook faster than Miley Cyrus’ twistees. Just imagine ‘em Scots listening to that pish during Hearts v Hibernians!

Let’s say the unfortunate expression, is really and truly, quite normal. You said something stupid during the commentary of an Under-17 international. RAI say a lot of stupid somethings too. SKY, despite their perfect clear blue sets and all, occasionally appear uninformed.

We all screw up don’t we? I’ve made a few mistakes in my time as a freelance journalist – I once “forgot” to proof-read my own work, and as a result I looked like a real tit when “Tok Tok” appeared in print instead of “Talk Talk”. To this day, a couple of people still bring it up (others died in mysterious circumstances). None of them has ever received threatening letters from my legal team (9 barristers, two legal procurators and eleven coffee machines).

There again, Sand, it’s with a heavy heart and a coffee-stained laptop that I have to tell you that you’re taking yourself way too seriously. Threatening to sue a bunch of pock-faced students for repeating something funny you said ON NATIONAL TV? This isn’t dropping a tactically uninformed comment on Mourinho’s Porto in a dark bar where you were on your own, with nobody to listen to you (save for a leaky AC and a leaky drunkard). So, saying something stupid, or funny, or irrelevant (oh your colleagues have plenty of those in stock) on national TV, is bound to get people laughing or scoffing at you.

Also, and I’m trying to find the sweetest words in my vocabulary to explain this, but you’re not exactly Pizzul, nor Martellini, nor Andy Gray, nor John Motson, nor whoever. You are Sandro Micallef. Like all your other colleagues on TV, print, web, your name doesn’t appear on the Greatest and Untouchable Journalists of All Time. Nor does mine, in case you decide to come up with the whole “mind your own” retort.

Yet, you’re in the public eye, so expect good and bad feedback.

I will not go into the patronising routine of telling everyone what a valid commentator you are (even though the online barometer is now pointing to descriptions of “overrated, pompous, arrogant, touchy” etc - if you have to sue all of them, you’ll create a backlog in court larger than the hole in Milan’s defence). I don’t want you to be shocked at this “surprise rearguard attack from somebody I know”.

I’m almost tempted to absolve you for your legal shenanigans: you, like me, and many others, are products of a society that effectively abhors satire of any kind. 'Laughing should be considered illegal straight away, save for the happy families on political billboards or bank adverts. Maybe you’re right, we shouldn’t be afforded the right to laugh at you, or your colleagues, or your bosses, or your bosses’ bosses. As from now, we should only laugh at that farmer who gets (rightfully) passionate about his potatoes, or the fat man eating eight doughnuts. And maybe we can laugh at the cats singing on youtube.

Somehow you’re right to feel offended by someone or something and send them a letter from your lawyers (do they use those envelopes in lovely textured paper?). I was brought up in a different manner: if someone insults you, i) find a more creative insult to throw back, or ii) accept it was a jolly good insult to receive and laugh along with the others or iii) accept the other party has a point.

Despite the narrow intellectual alleyways imposed by our medieval society (aided, of course, by our pale, stale, boring, uncreative, junk-tv consuming national broadcaster), I, and hopefully many others like me, will insist forever that people like you and your lawyers should keep your tentacles off our sense of humour, and off satire in general. On the other hand, I’d half-wished you took your lousy legal action against a bunch of good humoured students even further, just to see their acne-stained faces explode with joy once you sit in front of a sober magistrate who will throw your case out, warts and all, and set a legal precedent in favour of satire in Malta.

And now, forgive me, I have some more pressing concerns to attend to, such as watching football. The apocalypse will have to wait.