Break dancers

It looked like any other congregation of journalists; same old faces and a scattering of new ones, and same old attitudes, but alas no new ones, exemplified by the itching of Pierre Portelli's and Gino Cauchi's fingers to... continue this sentence.

The special edition of Data Mix (Education 22, Saturday afternoon) brought us a meeting of news editors from different media, people who are supposed to offer "professional, unbiased judgment".

One of those obscure Sicilian television station regularly features a programme, News Ieri in which it shamelessly plagiarises items from different bulletins on other stations, indicating this solely by leaving the relevant station logos onscreen as the clips are screened.

In Malta, of course, this is not done. So much so that if, for example, Super One broadcasts an item about a hold-up at a soft drinks factory, Net does not, since (i) no one considers this station's news worth monitoring; or (ii) broadcasting such an item would mean there is something wrong with the country; or (iii) the other station has a better grapevine (you bet!); (iv) it is not the local praxis to credit someone else with breaking news one has not directly covered; or (v) nothing must take up the time which according to Net's agenda must be devoted to E-U-R-O-P-E-related trivia (your guess is as good as mine).

Meanwhile, RTK, like the poor, death, and taxes, is always there to cover events, be they not of national importance. But that is not why they come up with an unbiased version of the news, so the excuse that news would be bland if it's not political, falls by the wayside.

Someone did mention that a political slant is actually expected of people who tune in to particular stations, and even more so, particular programmes; but then the interpretation given by the audience is something that cannot be gauged. What do you do when you overhear children's gossip in the schoolyard about how "the poor rabbit was smashed against the wall and blood was flying everywhere" or how "the camera was smashed to smithereens and both the cameraman's arms and legs were broken"?

Song for Europe: Malta must be the only country where the words acquire an alternative meaning at the click of a mouse. Phase One: The Nationalist Party seeks to recruit people in the public eye to back its pro-Europe campaign. Some of these happen to be singers.

The resultant clips stick like the proverbial bone in the Labour Party machine's cogs, to mix metaphors. So, enter Phase Two: The Labour Party seeks to enlist the help of some of the same vocalists... to sing anti-Europe compositions.

The country music lobby must love this, in fact they have already been there, done that: She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not.

I watched Analise Ellul (Junior Popstars, TVM) interviewing children at a McDonald's restaurant, accompanied by the eponymous chap himself. She was asking young customers whom they preferred from a selection of modern pop stars - and unfortunately the votes mostly went to Eminem - whose name some of the children pronounced like the sweet he so loves, so it must have been a case of go with the flow.

What I didn't take kindly to was that Ms Ellul totally ignored a little girl and her brother, whose body language indicated that they were trying to catch her eye so that she could include them in her programme.

For that matter, it also sets my teeth on edge whenever there is a young guest on Nancy Buhagiar's cookery programmes (different names on different stations, but the same appliances in each one). She is either giving them a free hand in the kitchen, or she isn't; just because she calls the shots, there's no need to be patronising.

I also detected a hint of this attitude last Sunday in Tista' Tkun Int, where a widowed father of seven appeared on the show to news of a wonderfully refurbished house. The children were told, admonished almost, time and again, to care for their new things, to keep them clean, and to look after the place ("because nobody would come and fix it up again"), and other cautions to that effect. These things were said with a heartfelt purpose, I know, but it could have been done privately, because it detracted from the whole effect.

But what appears patronising to me may appear smart, or even cute, to someone else. For instance, the HSBC advertisement about the different customs regarding payment for wedding celebrations in France and Japan is witty, but the one currently appearing in print which features what is supposed to be a "Maltese" glass of tea leaves me, well, cold.

The man was holding a particular toy and shaking it about. I stopped zapping to listen, and in Straight Talk (Smash) there was a discussion about how insidiously and systematically our children are being taught about the drug culture, war-mongering, New Age and the occult through innocent-looking toys, their television tie-ins, and playthings that are deceptively innocent-looking. I remember sending one of the items mentioned in this programme to an exorcist some years ago, asking him to confirm my fears - and he had corroborated my views about it.

In the programme, many statistics were bandied about: 95 per cent of onscreen sex is between unmarried couples; the average American father talks directly to his child for 37 seconds daily; the average American child watches 30 hours of television per week.

Granted that two of the guest speakers were there (also) because they wanted to sell their books; but it makes you wonder whether the 'dieting industry' has a serious competitor here, although a report from Columbia University and Bassett Healthcare in Cooperstown, New York, recently blamed television for a rise in obesity in one- to four-year-olds, especially those who have a set in heir bedrooms.

At least there was a bright spot this week; Osvaldo Bevilacqua (Sereno Variabile, RAI Due, 6.30 p.m. Saturdays - RAI Due also gave us a TG2 Dossier edition devoted to Malta, last Sunday), came to Gozo to visit Ggantija and expat Italo Rota on Gozo, chatted about Maltese cuisine with restaurateur Julian Sammut, dropped in on Comino, and flitted to Valletta to see the devil's clock on the façade of St John's Co-Catrhedral, and sundry other sights, before the inevitable visit to Dr Michael Refalo.