<i>D&eacute;j&agrave;</i> review

Yesterday week I was catching up on my correspondence after a hard day at the beach, when I heard the Xarabank signature-tune. I immediately remembered that summer is the time for repeats of repeats, and went to watch bits of the programme - the topic was usury.

At one point, a woman who justified her borrowing from one of these leeches defended her choice by saying that "...the banks lend you money to get a new car or a new bathroom, but they don't want to know when it's a matter of illness..."

No one bothered to put her right; because I am under the impression that a flexible loan is given - albeit you have to have surety for it, without one having to specify on what all of it is going to be spent.

Another guest stepped in and said that at the casino(s), when the chips are down and the losses are great, loan sharks swim around the fry to get them to borrow when they are at their most vulnerable. There was the deadly serious allegation (check the log tapes) that "the authorities turn a blind eye at this".

Will a statement be issued about points (i) and (ii) above, I wonder, before the next edition of the programme goes on air (past my deadline for this column)?

And then there was the story of the leaking gas cylinder upon which Fr René Camilleri expounded in Bla Mhabba Ghalxejn (Marthese Brincat's programme on Net Television).

Not many people notice that there is something (flammable) in the air... until it is too late. We absorb the gas and our nostrils may, or may not, get a whiff of it before someone switches on the ceiling fan, or a smoker lights up.

This is as good a way as any to describe the latest form of idolatry; a schizophrenic double-identity that Fr Camilleri indicated by describing someone who, well, religiously goes to Mass, but then also visits the fortune-teller (and reads the horoscope) avidly.

I am pleased to note the hefty amount collected by the wonderful Marisa and all the others at the Centru Animazzjoni Missjunarja - donations were still trickling in on the morrow of the marathon... which, I am even more pleased to note, the three major television stations tripped over their OBU leads to bring to their viewers.

One hopes that the same treatment will henceforth be accorded to everyone, even when there are no star camerapersons or distinguished guests.

I rarely watch Country music programmes, and perhaps it's just as well. This week, Vince Laus (Super One), refereed at least three times to a kantant ohxon. Actually, this chap did have a name, and it was used - but not as often as his physical attribute.

And this, of course, brings me to another knuckle-rapping incident which the people who compile news bulletins wrote with the interests of those sleazy individuals who dig dirt (as in scandal, not in gardening) in mind - just as long as it's not from their own backyard, to continue the metaphor.

So - they hauled a murderer before the courts. So, he did his victim in, as was corroborated by an eye-witness, in the most horrible manner, after which, according to his own testimony, he took his time to turn himself in. But must we have all the details spelled out so plainly with (or rather without) respect to the deceased person? Even had his surname been a common, unadorned, Borg.

I find it annoying when, say, drivers of vehicles involved in accidents are described by marital status, town of residence, age, and make of vehicle, so that the rest of us may make educated guesses as to whether it was Bernice's brother who "for some reason" (read: he may have been under the influence, or just playing with his cellular telephone: you choose) lost control of his vehicle and crashed into the boundary wall of a field at Iz-Zonqor...

The next thing we know, not even items like the above would be enough to satiate the need-to-know, and our newscasters will regale us with "...a fat (see above) woman, about 40 years old, mother of three originally from Sliema, believed to have been for some time the common-law wife of a prominent Belgian businessman living in Hal Klikka, with a Mohawk blonde hairdo, who kept claiming, in a recent edition of Xarabank, that 'this time' she voted for Alternattiva because the government didn't fix her pavement, repeated her claims as she was taken away by two even fatter WPCs with hair dyed even more blonde. She was apprehended at the Valletta flea market, precisely at 10.06 a.m. last Wednesday, at one of those stalls selling lingerie, because, it is claimed, she was driven crazy by the onion-and-green-pepper-soup diet she was following..."

If the Broadcasting Authority - or the general public - winces at this type of reporting, the station that offers it will come back saying that since 'no names' had been mentioned, the woman, ipso facto, was not identifiable.

I am not advocating sanitisation of each and every item - I would just like my personal maxim "do as you would be done by", to be applied all the time, equally, to everyone "in the news" not just "whenever it is expedient".

Il-vettura spiccat fuq is-saqaf... why not simply inqalbet ta' taht fuq? As it is, one might think it came to rest on the roof of a house.

What is the point of having Chinese language lessons on Education 22, if the sub-titles are in Chinese only? Several Chinese people appear onscreen, pronouncing those words in the correct way, I am sure; but if we don't know the difference between hello and goodbye, this is no way to learn it.

There is no voice-over commentary either, and the whole series is occasionally dotted with scenes in a children's classroom where the pupils are learning how to pronounce, say, "b" and "p".

The lessons in Arabic script and Maltese are absolutely rudimentary, but at least, the teachers who coach viewers explain every single step.