The Curious Case of the 17 Black-Out

Chapter One: The Announcement That Stirred Mdina

On a sunny afternoon, as the chickens clucked and the elderly played bocci by the walls of Mdina, the Maltese airwaves were suddenly abuzz with the announcement that could rival the popularity of a new ħobż biż-żejt flavor—our Prime Minister had declared that the 17 Black inquiry should be published ‘today before tomorrow.’

“We need to shed light on this dark matter swiftly,” the Prime Minister said, winking at the camera with a knowing smile. “Uwejja, let’s not wait till tomorrow when today is already here!”

Little did he know, this phrase would spark a series of unforeseen events, with Malta’s timekeeping as the first unexpected victim.

Chapter Two: When Today Turns into Tomorrow

Following the Prime Minister’s cryptic timing, all official clocks in Valletta sped up by 12 hours, launching the country into an administrative tomorrow before today had a chance to finish. Ċikku, a local fisherman in Marsaxlokk, scratched his head in disbelief as he received a parking ticket dated the next day. “Mela, how can it be tomorrow when my lampuki catch is still fresh from today?” he exclaimed.

In the midst of the temporal turmoil, Ħelwa, a Gozo ferry ticket officer, started selling ’round-trip-to-yesterday’ tickets at a discounted rate. “Take a trip back to yesterday to enjoy all the pastizzis you missed,” she cheerily announced.

Chapter Three: The 17 Black-Out Revelation

As the nation teetered on the edge of a time continuum crisis, a janitor at the Auberge de Castille stumbled upon the infamous 17 Black dossier, buried under a mountain of old Festas programs and surplus carnival confetti. The janitor, Wistin, who couldn’t read much besides the TV guide and football scores, paraded the document through the streets of Sliema to sell it for a few extra euros.

However, the document caught the eye of Marilù, a retired detective and bingo champion, who recognized it from the news. Seizing her trusty magnifying glass, she unraveled the contents, only to find it was filled with predictions for the next year’s Eurovision contest and a handwritten note, “Recipes for when the investigators get hungry.”

Chapter Four: A Twist of Events

Just as Marilù was about to call for an emergency Festa to discuss her findings, the Prime Minister made a spectacular U-turn—or in Maltese terms, “id-dawra tal-Marsa.” He announced that the publication of the 17 Black inquiry was actually set for the 30th of February— a date that didn’t exist.

“We’ve reviewed the calendar, and we find this date to be most appropriate,” the Prime Minister explained, while munching on a qassatat. “In the meantime, let’s focus on the more pressing issue—the mysterious disappearance of our beloved Ftira Fest.”

Maltese citizens collectively rolled their eyes so hard the Richter scale registered a minor tremor across the Island. Social media erupted with satirical memes featuring the Prime Minister as a time-traveling pastizz devourer.

Chapter Five: The Culprit Behind the Black-Out

Just as the Maltese public was about to cyber-surrender to temporal chaos, the true architect of the 17 Black-Out came forward—Kevin il-Koħħu, a 9-year-old boy from Birkirkara, who admitted to meddling with the clocks after a dare involving a rubber chicken went awry.

Kevin’s parents agreed to a live interview with ‘Times of Mela,’ where they apologized to the nation for the inconvenience. Meanwhile, Kevin was awarded a lifetime supply of ħobż biż-żejt for exposing the soft underbelly of Malta’s temporal infrastructure.

Epilogue: Malta’s Return to Normalcy

As the clocks rewound and life in Malta returned to its regular rhythm, the story of the 17 Black-Out became legendary fodder for humorists and satirists alike. From the stone-paved streets of Valletta to the cerulean waters of Comino, the Maltese people laughed, shrugged, and raised their Cisk in unison to a future where today is just today, and inquiries are published strictly within working hours—give or take a festa day.

And so, another page turned in the great, comic ledger of Malta’s history, the citizens of this sun-kissed archipelago could always take solace in the old Maltese adage, “If it feels like tomorrow today, then it must be Malta.”