The Peculiar Case of the Zammit Lewis Letter

A Satirical Twist on the Local Judiciary Shenanigans

It was an ordinary sunny day in the heart of Valletta, where the echoes of church bells mix with the chatter of tourists devouring pastizzi. But things were about to get as tangled as the spaghetti in a plate of ‘Fenkata’ (rabbit stew) for Justice Minister Dr. Is-Sur Ir-Reffiegħ. He had just been handed a letter from Repubblika that was as spicy as a fresh ‘ħobż biż-żejt’ covered in extra chili flakes.

The letter in question, penned by none other than Publius Plotter—a man known for weaving words tighter than a Gozo lace—was a masterpiece of passive aggression. Dr. Is-Sur Ir-Reffiegħ, eyebrows raised higher than the upper Barrakka Gardens lift, read through the prose that shone a spotlight on recent judiciary antics with the subtlety of a Carnival float in a funeral procession.

When Personal Attacks Get ‘Għaġin tal-Furn’ Twisted

“This case of the letter is nothing but a thinly veiled personal attack,” declared the Justice Minister to an imaginary panel at the ECJ, stroking his moustache in a manner that would make The Mosta dome envious. Dr. Ir-Reffiegħ, known for his dramatic flair that surpassed that of the annual Nadur Carnival festivities, vowed to unravel the truth, and by truth, he meant satire.

I tell you, the criticisms here are so hidden, a smug tourist in Mdina would find it easier to stumble upon the secret passage to the dungeons than to detect the banter in this letter! Mela, it’s practically a personal attack!”

Plots Twistier than Qormi’s Backstreets

In an unprecedented move, Dr. Is-Sur Ir-Reffiegħ gathered his most trusted yet eccentric allies for a council of war—or as they preferred to call it, a feast of wits: Lorella laħam tiġieġ (chicken meat) la Vallette, with gossip more succulent than the juiciest of timpana; Salvu Bajtra (prickly pear) ta’ Bormla, whose misunderstandings were more famous than the Hal Saflieni Hypogeum’s acoustics; and Carmelo Qassata (cheese-cake) tal-Birgu, whose schemes often crumbled faster than a flaky qassatat crust.

Their task was simple: reply to the letter with enough puns to make a Maltese poodle roll over with laughter. But first, they needed to decipher the riddles woven by Publius Plotter. As the night descended and the stars blinked above the silent city of Mdina, our heroes found themselves embroiled in a puzzle that was more confusing than a bus schedule during Ġimgħa l-Kbira (Good Friday).

The Not-so-Secret Weapon: Satirical Humor

Carmelo Qassata began, his idea as bright as the fireworks at the St. Catherine’s Festa. “Ejja, why not write back, but mock-realistic, like we’re creating a dating profile for Zammit Lewis with a passion for long walks in the court corridors and a penchant for verdict-themed poetry?”

Lorella la Vallette gasped, the glint in her eyes outshining the sparkle from the lamp posts that lined the Sliema promenade. “And we’ll conduct a faux interview, m’għandux it as if Dan il-Koħħu ta’ Għawdex himself is giving his two cents on these judicial escapades!”

As they plotted, Salvu Baj areta’s malapropisms added an unexpected twist, turning their tactics into an almost Dadaist manifesto. “We should get everyone talking about it, like the Għanafest melody that gets stuck in your head, impossible to forget! Tieħu tiegħek, Repubblika!” he exclaimed, mixing metaphors like they were ingredients for a perfect batch of mqaret.

The Morning After: Malta’s Reaction

The next day, the island was abuzz with the audacious response penned by Dr. Is-Sur Ir-Reffiegħ’s dream team. People gathered in cafés, waving the letter like a banner at the Victory Day regatta, laughing till their bellied hurt. Even the stone-faced knights carved into the Mdina gates appeared to smirk at the clever play of words.

As for the Justice Minister, he was hailed as a satirical savant, his response now etched alongside the Great Siege of 1565 in the annals of Maltese mock-history. With a plot twist that caught everyone by surprise, the absurdity of the situation, once a source of consternation, was now a testament to Malta’s enduring sense of humor and the resilience of its people to face bureaucracy with a carnival spirit.

Mela kollox, dear readers, stay tuned to ‘Times of Mela’ for more hilarious escapades that prove life on this little rock is anything but boring. Uwejja, until next time!