Flying speed

The story is told that when The Forsyte Saga was first shown on local television, an elderly lady told her friend that this was one of the finest dramas she expected to see because "... this nice big family found plenty to do without wasting their time watching television."

If only that were (still) a yardstick for select viewing. The characters on local (and foreign) soaps rarely watch television, unless it is of the closed circuit type, essential to a sub-plot, or else a news bulletin where the newscaster just happens to be reading an item with relevance to the story.

Last week I didn't have enough space to endorse once more the aptly named Super One series Dinja Ohra (Mondays, 8.30 p.m.-ish), which was about legends connected with the sea. This week's programme was just as wonderful, albeit in a totally different way (it unfortunately went out at nearly 10 p.m. because of the importance One Productions are rightly giving to the Small Nations Games, so many of the usual audience might have missed it).

Emi Farrugia, the producer of the series, has worked with National Geographic, Discovery Channel, and BBC on similar projects, and this award-winning series is but one example of the meticulous work.

Old newsreel footage and other video clips intercut with footage taken during the dives documenting the activity of the 10th Submarine Flotilla that was stationed at Manoel Island during the Second World War. It is worth noting that one vital clue that the wreck highlighted here is that of Marine Sanudo, are the crested cups of the Lloyd Triestino line, whose local agents are S. Mifsud and Sons.

I assume that this is definitely not the end of this marvellous adventure - not least because there are still bits of the story left to be told, perhaps for a reason... and it would make the international headlines were details of what happened to the 44,000 two-month salaries of the German Afrika Korps finally to emerge from this "other world".

The series is worth purchasing as part of the videocassette library of educational institutions, or even personal ones.

The more we move towards becoming a member state of the European Union - where Maltese is one of the official languages - the more we make a hash of the vernacular, even as we are supposed to be finding out about l-irwol li ser jilghabu l-pajjizi.

This week there were children taking part in a programme gejjin mill-iskola ta'..., and a hotel li bi hsiebu jinfetah. During a football match, the ball was tiela' u niezel, bl-addocc kemm tridu, and, unfortunately, there were two accidents, wiehed aghar mill-iehor. Not as bad as the impertinence of using an ejaculation when it certainly was mot meant as a prayer, on Ipokriti, some episodes ago.

No wonder the gates of the Auberge de Castile remain firmly closed as the cast from Viva l-Ministru flits down the steps in a family portrait.

Before some local company decides to apply for a franchise to import the latest mother-and-child gadgets advertised on Italian television, I would like to make an observation or two.

A child - who will patently not be worried about his tan line - wears this particular baby alarm like a bracelet. It works on the principle that when he is out of the radius covered by the apparatus, an alarm sounds and the mother can instantly trace him by means of the rest of the contraption.

Now we all know how children tend to injure themselves the minute they are out of your line of vision - and a child in this position would not know to chuck the alarm, away the requisite distance to alarm his carer (even if he could take it off).

So the person in charge of him, lulled into a false sense of security, reads or sunbathes on, oblivious to the fact that the child may be bleeding to death within a "safe" distance.

Alternatively, seeing that the alarm activates itself when the child is out of the "safe" circumference, the opposite could happen; someone snips the alarm off the wrists of the child who is too young to shout for help; the alarm is left within the "safe circle", and the child is spirited away to kingdom come. Let us never forget Jamie Bulger.

What's to bet that had the MV Doulos been granted a trading permit, certain sections of the press would have run amok with the news, slanting it such that the livelihood of tens of Maltese works was in jeopardy because the ship was underselling local agents?

Will this hullabaloo about the Eurovision Song Contest never stop? Just on the tiny matter of clothes, for instance, we could have filled a whole exercise book.

I distinctly remember one singer saying they "made" her wear a miniskirt, and another one chiding her, on air because she let it happen; she did what she jolly well wanted to. Another one said that she did "everything" herself - in which case the consultant would have gone along just for the ride.

And now, dear listeners, she said, I have a wonderful prize for those of you who call in and answer my question - it's a break on a bed-and-breakfast basis at [hotel]. The question, therefore, is... in which American city (sic) are the most murders committed annually; is it Texas, California, North Carolina....

Talk about bad taste!