Tales from the Land of Serenity Part 17

These are tales that came into being following the brutal assassination of the investigative journalist Daphne Caruana Galizia in Malta, 16th October 2017.

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The Land of Serenity is not only the smallest state in the European Union of Bon Accord, it is also the quietest, and so the sound of a whistle blowing is, and quite understandably, abhorred.

A woman – whose credentials were already undermined by the fact that not only was she a barrani, which alerts suspicious minds immediately, but she also hailed from a land that was once sealed off by an iron-clad curtain, a land completely riddled with traitors and spies – and this woman no less, who some would see as a disgraceful example of the weaker fairer sex, was responsible for letting out an ear-splitting piercing shrill screech which threatened to bring down all the buildings around her if this hadn’t already been done by the sledgehammers and the crowbars entrusted with the task of demolishing the worn-out pillars of serenity.

Nobody likes the sight of a woman with her cheeks puffed up with air because, let’s face it, some instruments have a more aesthetic appeal than others so there’s unlikely to be any whistles blowing during the eagerly anticipated serenade to the much loved leader of Serenity. There’ll be no penny-pinching tin-pot signs of tat and tackiness here, if you don’t mind!

Well, the Land of Serenity, like all law-abiding abodes, insists – and quite rightly – on freedom of speech and offers the highest form of protection to those who breach the peace by blowing into pipes and letting off the most excruciating of noises. Even those, dear friends, are given shelter in this haven, this tiny little safety valve for the wayward flotsam and jetsam who ebb and flow along its tides; although being a tranquil sheltered cove surrounded on all sides by water, Serenity doesn’t really have any tides and nor does it have seagulls since the Minister for Animal Welfare who is, of course, a hunter, passed a law decreeing that all our feathered friends were fair game.

So even though the woman concerned was hardly worth protecting because, let’s be honest, some lives do have more value than others and it really is more advisable to tread the well-worn pathways of the straight and excessively narrow, she was still respected for her right to squeak into that infuriating harsh-sounding whistle of hers while blowing the whole situation completely out of proportion and almost drowning out the drone of citizens quietly going about and doing their washing as she did so. Some people, most particularly barrani, do need to learn the simple art of respect.

Nevertheless, and for some strange reason best known to herself as well as certain members of the international press, the woman put down her whistle and fled from the sanctuary of Serenity, claiming, in a way that clearly exposed her guilty deceit, that her very own life was under threat.

No-one threatens anyone in Serenity. No situation will ever blow up in someone else’s face. No-one is at risk when the truth is at stake.

‘Hush hush,’ say the mothers when their children stir. ‘There’s nothing to fear. ‘Tis only the sound of dreams throwing evil witches high up into the air.’