Stripe poker

Most local television stations get around the problem of "no one watches television in summer" by showing omnibus editions of local productions. Alternatively, we get the same old faces, possibly with different hair, teeth, and lip contours - doing the rounds of different 'magazine' (read hotchpotch) programmes on different stations.

Occasionally you get the bilocation factor, where the same person happens to be on two shows simultaneously, and what makes this more eerie is that she is saying exactly the same things to a different set of people. Talk about opinionated - although this word does not seem to be hurting the Theresa Heinz-Kerry factor.

Foreign stations have decided to stop emulating us for a while. So out have come the hallowed F-Troop, Rin Tin Tin, Hogan's Heroes, et al series, in a bid to echo the "good old times".

Incidentally, although I had missed Medic (Super One), I still would like to suggest that in the next series, if there is one, the presenters do not give out a complete mobile telephone number of people who win competitions; this goes blatantly against the Data Protection Act, although no names are mentioned.

So now we know. In some of the higher echelons of PBS skulks a coven of mediocre fat cats with a predilection for running up gargantuan cellular telephone bills, whereas the people who did the hard slog got the order of the boot - or at least an alternative job or an early retirement handout. At least, that was the overall impression given in the repeat of the discussion programme on Super One, last Saturday morning.

Sandro Mangion has the knack of keeping his face innocently deadpan while making leading comments through understatement. Breaking the "no new programmes for summer" ethos on Super One, unless it's merely a transplantation of the radio Spirtu Pront, he and his two guests discussed (bits and bobs of) what has happened - is happening - at PBS, in Issues.

I use the parenthesis with care; several ex-employees of the Station of the Nation called in to air their views, but left viewers perplexed as to what they really wanted to say - especially when they did not give their names and their voices were not instantly recognisable. I found it odd that they forebore to mention the names of the people who were on the interview board(s); one presumes that even if they did not know them personally, word had got around as to who were those wielding Damoclean swords.

As the programme went on, curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would have said, it was a case of smoke without fire; we have to "wait and see", literally, to find out who are those deemed worthy of fronting the PBS newsroom, or, as it was referred to in a recent circular, tal-Ahbarijiet (sic).

It was taken as read that some of them had not even applied to take up the positions they had held up to and including the fateful day of the interview. This was interpreted as being "due to personal pride; I knew I would be turned down."

This puts a new perspective upon the adage about death and taxes; at one point, redress to the Ombudsman was mentioned. Keeping in mind that the august person may say in the end, "Sorry, I cannot help you in that," the question "did you go to the interview?" is likely to come up.

"No" sounds different from Yes, and I was told I am unable to do a job I have been paid for doing these last 30-odd years; just look at how impressive my C.V. and track record are..."

The di-ve Website of the new, been there, done that, got the T-shirt to prove it Fit-Tajjeb u l-Hazzin (PBS) contains the interesting word 'program' (sic).

This reminds me of the story about the wannabe European Parliament translators-cum-interpreters who were given a text containing the immortal words "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.". One scholar came up with "the wine is OK, but the meat is putrid" whereas the other fellow (as in university, not chap) suggested: "He's not well, but his absinthe is something else..." A 10-year old entrusted with the task simply said "Not up to it", referring to himself - and got the job.

Bar-B-Q is, of course, a 'summer' programme - but I do not quite fathom why a scantily-dressed guest singer was shown, several times, doing her thing in the same frame as a statue of the Madonna; it jarred. Moreover, the presenters and another guest were busy chatting away and scoffing snacks and quaffing drinks in the background; hardly the ideal way to appreciate talent.

Ireland is doing something exemplary to combat childhood obesity. Henceforth, celebrities will not be allowed to endorse junk food and fizzy drinks during children's television time. That's rich - most children's programmes in Malta ooze the stuff, since those who produce it are sponsors, because in this case, looking a gift horse in the mouth indicates the amount of dentistry it will need in the future.

Broadcasting Authority chairman Dr Joseph Said Pullicino, having dissected the Grant Thornton report about the broadcasting situation in Malta, tells us that the market is 'limited', with the setting up of other television or radio stations 'not viable'.

I would have selected the word saturated instead. One Net News bulletin, in their particular patois, put it as issa (about time too) [each applicant] ha jkun imwissi ghall-piz li ser jidhol ghalih.

We already have the Radju Marija and RTK Fan Clubs, if not the relative managements themselves, bickering and quibbling about which is the better way to serve God; we have already lost two of my favourites - Radju MAS and Bronja - and Island Sound too, for those who were inclined to listen to it.

All those involved can learn a thing or two from the reasoning behind Super One's Qawsalla Team: "You volunteer, we teach you the ropes, and, who knows, you might even land a paid job one day..." The voluntariat of Radju Marija, will, at an unspecified date, receive out-of-this-world benefits.

Angli (Net Television) could well be renamed Miami Nice. For although the music is very similar to that on Miami Vice, there are fewer murders and mayhem involved.