A Tikka Masala Twist of Fate: Elizabeth Ellul’s Planning Palooza

Valletta Ventures into the Vortex

On a sunny afternoon as bright as a freshly painted limestone façade, Valletta’s serene streets were abuzz with the latest chisme: Elizabeth Ellul, known to her pals as Bettina ta’ Bormla, had been appointed chairperson of the Planning Commission. As whispers reached decibels audible over the chugging of a quintessential Maltese luzzu, NGOs sounded the alarm faster than a rabble of tourists sprinting for the last slice of ħobż biż-żejt during festa season.

Bettina’s Blissful Beginnings

Who was Bettina, you ask? A former pastry chef turned urban enthusiast, her rise to power was as inadvertent as a goat wandering onto a beach in Ghajn Tuffieha. Bettina’s real passion? Setting up artisanal Tikka Masala stands in each town—yes, a peculiar choice for a Maltese macaroon maven. Her motto: “Who needs pastizzi when you can have poultry perfumed with the poetry of spices?”

The Mdina Misconception

As fate would have it, a game of Chinese whispers led to a monumental misunderstanding. While drafting a proposal for a new Tikka Masala oasis right outside the gates of Mdina, Bettina’s hand-written note, scrawled with more curls than a Birkirkara perm in the ’80s, was mistaken for a masterplan to revitalize Malta’s silent city. Uwejja! Before long, she found herself at the helm of the Planning Commission, facing an architectural Armageddon that would turn Caravaggio in his grave.

Gozo Goes Gonzo

The plot twisted further when Bettina’s blueprint for a “Spice Route” collided with Gozo’s tranquility. This route was no ordinary path; it was envisioned to zigzag past the Ċittadella, lined with neon take-out tikka joints, leading to what Bettina dreamt would be the crowning glory: a colossal curry fountain in the azure backdrop of the Azure Window’s remains.

Quirky Quota Quandaries

To assess the sentiment of the populace, the “Times of Mela” organized a series of fictional interviews with some local characters, though one could argue the ‘fictional’ was superfluous considering the bizarre nature of these truly Maltese personalities.

“If Bettina thinks she’s turning Rabat into Rabat Tikka, she’s got another think comin’!” declared Ċensu tal-Għannej, a feisty Rabat resident.

“I don’t know, eh? Could be nice to have some spicy scents around, ta. Maybe tourists will like it,” mused a Gozitan farmer, Żeppi ta’ l-Għarb, scratching his head with pitchfork in hand.

“Mela, kollox possibli in this crazy island, but let’s hope they’re planning also for ample parking for our bigger-than-elephants cars, cause you know… priorities,” interjected Drusillah ta’ Marsaskala, the practical thinker of the bunch.

Conclusion: A Spicy Resolution?

As the sun set on a day rife with rumors, Bettina faced a choice: embrace her accidental authority or return to a simple life of culinary concoctions. Then it hit her like a rogue lavash bread frisbeeing through the air—why not combine forces?

She would overhaul the Commission’s image, peppering policies with a bit of masala magic. Space for walkers? “Mela, yes, but make it a Tikka trail!” Green initiatives? “How about vertical gardens growing cilantro and chilies?” Historic preservation? “Add an interactive exhibit with 4D curry experiences!”

Through the melee of ideas, one thing became clear: Malta was about to experience its most flavorful era of town planning. And as ‘Times of Mela’ giggled its way to the printing press, Bettina ta’ Bormla, the accidental architect of absurdity, was ready to serve up a dollop of development with a side of satire.

Whether the curry consensus would simmer down to enduring deliciousness or boil over into chaos was a story yet to unfold, but one thing was certain—Malta’s taste for the extraordinary had just received a piquant punch no pastizzi could ever challenge.