Fort Chambray Fiasco: A Casemate Comedy of Errors

Mela, What Heritage?

It was a day that echoed through the narrow streets of Gozo, causing more uproar than the controversial introduction of triq-il pastizzi, a street rumored to be paved with the flakiest of pastries. This time, however, it wasn’t the crumbs leading to Mdina that had people talking, it was the infamous Planning Authority’s (PA) approval to turn Fort Chambray’s historic British Barracks into a dazzling (and arguably unnecessary) mini-golf course.

Local NGOs, including the fictional ‘Heritage Haber,’ ‘Gozo Green Gozos’, and the militant ‘No To All Change Foundation,’ collectively gasped, choking on their għaġin tal-appostoli. As appeals flew in faster than seagulls on a lampuki school, Carmenu, a local activist known for chaining himself to anything older than his nanna’s dentures, exclaimed, “Mela, PA! Might as well let them build an underwater disco in the Blue Lagoon! Uwejja!”

Lija’s Liability

In the leafy town of Lija, President of the “Future Fort Fairways” (FFF) association, Dun Karmnu ta’ Bocci, a former priest with a surprising knack for crazy golf, was jubilant. As the spiritual leader of the absurd, he believed that swapping history for holes-in-one was divine providence. Dun Karmnu, striking his white golf glove like a televangelist, proclaimed, “Gozo will be the next golfing mecca; ħallelin, but nobody visits for old barracks! Mini-golf is the future, kollox included!”

An Unexpected Discovery

Plotting proceeded until Tereża, Dun Karmnu’s prodigal sister, renowned for her ħobż biż-żejt food truck (and part-time archaeological hobbyist), unearthed a peculiar plan nestled within the barracks’ walls. A blueprint detailing an elaborate escape route for British soldiers, complete with hidden hammocks and tea stations – the very first signs of what we’d call ‘glamping’ today.

“Mela, this is a historical treasure, uwejja friends, we must preserve it!”

Unfortunately for her, the PA had already voted, and the golf greens seemed inevitable.

Sliema Socialite Steps In

Enter Fabrizia, a Sliema socialite with more enthusiasm for heritage than a history lecturer on caffeine. Her Instagram was a collage of selfies with monuments, a flawless mesh of duck faces and Dolmen stones. Her hashtags, #SaveOurBarracks, became a rallying cry across social media.

A facetious interview with the Times of Mela quickly went viral:

“Darlings, it’s like, totally crucial we protect our heritage, mhux hekk? Gyms have enough mirrors; we don’t need more reflecting surfaces on a mini-golf course. Let’s turn these barracks into a live cultural experience, complete with British era cosplay warriors – I already got the outfits ready!”

Her words struck a chord, and soon enough, the island was buzzing with more excitement than Feast Day fireworks.

The Turn of Events

Under the weight of public opinion and a surprisingly persuasive argument that ‘Tee-Time’ could also refer to historical reenactments of tea time, the PA buckled. Fort Chambray and its barracks were saved! News spread quickly, accompanied by a collective sigh of relief, partly because no one really needed yet another place to lose their balls.

The NGOs triumphantly updated their blogs, and even the FFF admitted defeat, with Dun Karmnu sheepishly confessing he’d never actually played mini-golf.

In a shocking confession to Toms of Mela, he said:

“Honestly, ħuti, I thought mini-golf involved horses – small ones, of course!”

Conclusion: The Mall in the Fort?

The future of the barracks is now looking brighter; however, rumors have already started swirling about a ‘Fort Chambray Mall’ proposal. When asked for comment, Carmenu just winked, strapping on his protest sandals, and uttered, “We’ll see about that!”

Mela, that’s a story for another scandalous day on our beloved archipelago. Until then, we tee off into the sunset, proud of our heritage, and ever-watchful for the next ‘brilliant’ idea from the Planning Authority.