Gozo’s Great Goat Gaffe: A Baaad Day for Beppe

The Un-Baa-lievable Heist

On a sunny morning in Gozo, where the sea sparkles brighter than the sequins on a festa dancer’s costume, the island buzzed with the latest chitchat. Beppe, a local farmer renowned in Nadur for having the most melodious goats on the rock—yes, they bleated in tune—discovered something amiss. Overnight, his prized goat, Carmela, who could bleat out the “Malta National Anthem” better than the rest, had vanished into thin air, or so he thought.

Villagers whispered of a heist, while others speculated it was a ploy by the farmer himself to claim the insurance lira—or as they call it in Maltese, il-flus tal-assigurazzjoni. The only evidence left behind was a suspicious trail of ħobż biż-żejt crumbs, which in Gozo, could lead anywhere.

A Twist of Fate

As the sun dipped below the Xlendi cliffs, casting long shadows over the boats bobbing in the bay, Beppe received an anonymous tip: a raspy voice over the phone, whispering, “Check your festa fireworks stash.” He paused, confused. Surely, the annual fiesta and its kaleidoscope of colours exploding in the sky couldn’t be related to his goat’s disappearance? With nerves jangling like the bells of the imposing Ta’ Pinu Basilica, he ventured to his barn.

In the dim light, past crates of fizzling fireworks, Beppe stumbled upon Carmela, surrounded by a grove of potted prickly pears. The goat munched contentedly, wearing a party hat—evidence of sedition! Carmela, it seems, had planned an elaborate escape to protest the new village bylaw banning livestock from participating in costume parties. The goat had a flair for drama, and being left out of such an illustrious event had clearly eaten away at her.

The Fur-midable Response

“We won’t be taking this lying down,” Beppe declared to a gathering crowd. “The goats of Gozo have a right to party too! Kollox or nothing!”

Within hours, a protest was organized. Goats from Għarb to Marsalforn marched alongside their human counterparts. The Great Gozo Goat March, as it came to be known, would go down in history. They paraded past the citadel, down to Mgarr Harbour, their signs bleating out demands for equality and more ħobż biż-żejt.

The Culinary Plot Twist

But the plot thickened like a hearty rabbit stew. The trail of bread crumbs had been left by none other than Katrina, the local baker, famous for her ħobż biż-żejt—and, more importantly, her opposition to noisy festivities disturbing her kneading time. In a candid interview, she unfolded her ruse:

“I never meant to goatnap Carmela!” Katrina confessed. “I just wanted to bake in peace. Who knew the goats loved my bread this much? Mela, I propose a deal. I’ll support the goat festivities if they endorse my bakery.”

Thus, an agreement was struck. The goats could join the festa, wearing tiny costumes amidst the fireworks and fanfare, as long as they flashed banners promoting Katrina’s bakery, a clever marketing ploy to sell more pastizzi as a snack for the handlers.

The Conclusion: All’s Wool That Ends Wool

As twilight fell upon the famed Inland Sea, Beppe hosted Gozo’s first “Goats in Coats” costume ball right within the iconic Dwejra Tower. The Gozitans danced the night away, with goats dressed as knights, dames, and Maltese falcons, their baas harmonizing with the tunes of local bands. A laughter-filled peace settled over the island.

Social media buzzed with photos of Carmela crowned as the queen of festa, munching on a fresh loaf of ħobż biż-żejt, with the hashtag #PartyGoatsOfGozo going viral across the Mediterranean.

And so, on this peculiar rock, where history often marries hilarity, the Great Goat Gaffe concluded with everyone getting their slice of bread—and the goats, their moment in the sparkling festa spotlight.

Uwejja, what a day it had been!