A Chaotic Committee Conundrum: The Tale of Carmelo’s Crusade

When the Ombudsman’s Reports Became Paper Planes

Uwejja! If you’ve ever thought that the only flights leaving Malta were from Luqa airport, you’ve probably never been to a Parliamentary meeting after an Ombudsman’s report drop. Before Carmelo “Il-Gvern-Huwa-Kollox” McKeon stepped into the picture, these reports were sprouting wings faster than tourists at a Gozo festa. Imagine, after careful scrutiny, these ornate documents turned into the office gliders, zooming across the room with more purpose than most legislation.

The Unlikely Hero

The scene was Sliema, a lovely seaside town where our hero and three-term backbencher Carmelo McKeon cherished his daily ħobż biż-żejt by the promenade, lost in thoughts of bureaucratic valor. Carmelo, whose name was synonymous with both unintentional comedy and unexpected wisdom, had an epiphany mid-bite. Mela, why not create a shiny-new committee to safeguard that Ombudsman reports get more than just high scores for aerodynamics?

“It’s about time we take these reports seriously,” exclaimed McKeon, addressing a flock of pigeons, who seemed mildly impressed by his passion.

Assembling the A-Team of Accidental Activists

The beauty of Malta’s Parliament is its colorful characters. Carmelo sought out the most illustrious of MPs, the type who’d usually be distracted by a pastizz mid-debate or who took their electoral promises as seriously as a weather forecast in August.

There was Saveria, known for her ferocious loyalty to her town’s marching band, and Pulizija Ċikku, who got into politics just to settle a bet. Not to forget, there was Toni “Tal-Mistoqsijiet,” who could interrogate a stone statue into submission.

The Inaugural Gathering

Amid the backdrop of Valletta’s majestic Grandmaster’s Palace, the first meeting of this motley crew of politicos was underway. Malta’s infamous roundabout traffic had nothing on the dizzying agenda setting that ensued.

“Order! Order… can I get a coffee over here?” shouted Toni, unwittingly setting the tone.

Saveria was already designing a uniform with the committee logo while Ċikku researched if the reports could be legally considered as assault weapons when folded into planes. And there was McKeon, imagining the headlines, “Carmelo’s Committee Crushes Paper Plane Pandemic!”

A Trial by Public Opinion

Predictable as a Maltese landlord’s ‘joke’ about rent prices, the ambitious committee became the talk of the nation—broadcasted from Uncle Ganni’s bar to the TV screens of homes where the evening news still held ceremonial significance.

Mysteriously, most of the discussed reports pertained to issues almost too bizarre for belief, from the questionable softness of the parliament’s toilet paper to the pressing need for an official Pastizzi Appreciation Day.

The Unexpected Twist

No Maltese story is complete without a jaw-dropping twist. And it arrived faster than one could say “Kif int?”. During a heated debate in majestic Mdina, a swirling tempest of past Ombudsman reports, long-lost due to their papery flight capabilities, descended upon the committee like a bureaucratic blizzard.

Each page that landed brought to light a forgotten issue, a lost cause, a muttered grievance. Did Malta’s timezone need to be aligned with that of the moon? Should there be an official siesta law?

The True Outcome

When the last page had fluttered to the ground, leaving a collage of parliamentary history littered around their feet, even McKeon had to laugh. “Maybe we mistook what we needed for what was right in front of us. It’s not a committee we need; it’s a pair of eyes—and a bin!”

And so, with new zeal and a roll-up-the-sleeves attitude, the committee changed course, focusing on what truly needed addressing: the art of not letting the important pieces literally fly away.

Conclusion: Will the Real Issues Please Stand Up?

Turns out, amidst their wacky endeavors and chaotic energy, Carmelo and his crew did stumble upon a profound truth—visibility and action go hand in hand. Despite the laughter and mild ridicule, they managed to secure a tiny victory for the Ombudsman’s woes.

Who knows, maybe one day these well-intentioned crusaders will be remembered not just for the humor they unwittingly provided but for drawing attention, however awkwardly, to the wheels that need the most grease in Malta’s vibrant, sometimes puzzling, but always beloved democracy.

And, on the bright side, at least they were spared from creating a hashtag for their committee; as anyone knows, Maltese hashtags are a language all unto themselves, uwejja!