The Curious Case of Toni Falzon’s Campaign for the Quietest Village in Malta

The Bid to Silence the Bells of Birżebbuġa

In the quaint town of Birżebbuġa, where the waves whisper secrets to the shore and the ħobż biż-żejt tastes like peace and quiet, a whisper of rebellion was stirring. Toni Falzon, a man whose passion for silence was only matched by his love for a perfectly crisp pastizz, had declared a most unusual political campaign: to make Birżebbuġa the quietest village in all of Malta. It was a lofty goal, considering the cacophony coming from the nearby Marsaxlokk fish market, where fishmongers bellowed and bartered like a scene from a medieval bazaar.

The Sound of Serenity

Toni, a local librarian with a moustache as neat as the bookshelves he tended, believed that the incessant chiming of the church bells and the joyous shouts of children playing football in the streets were shattering the tranquil harmony of the town. With a measured tone that barely rose above a whisper, he announced, “My friends, ħbieb, the time has come to turn down the volume of our beloved Birżebbuġa. Let us embrace the sound of serenity!”

“Ahh, Toni,” sighed his long-suffering wife Rita, as she bit into her figolli. “Your heart is in the right place, but your head must be stuck in a qargħa ħamra pumpkin if you believe people will give up their siesta-shattering traditions.”

The Falzon Soundproofing Faction

Equipped with pamphlets detailing the decibels of daily disturbances, Toni assembled his campaign team: The Falzon Soundproofing Faction, consisting of his aunt Doris, who hadn’t heard a pin drop since the 80s, and his best friend Frankie, whose only experience with silence was when he forgot to recharge his hearing aid batteries.

From the bustling Triq il-Mina to the serene gardens of his native Qormi, Toni and his so-called ‘Silent Avengers’ set forth, armed with flyers and noise-canceling headphones for anyone willing to listen—or rather, not listen.

The Ballad of the Missing Rooster

But then, an unexpected turning point struck the campaign. Zaren, a local farmer known for his prize-winning rooster, claimed the bird had fallen silent since Toni’s crusade began. Rumors abounded that Toni’s request for a quieter atmosphere had somehow lulled the creature into an eternal state of mute. Was it coincidence, or had the power of suggestion transcended species?

“It’s uwejja! This is witchcraft!” cried the townsfolk, convinced Toni was the Maltese Pied Piper of poultry. But as the murmurs grew, Toni, in a stroke of absurd genius, proposed a village festival celebrating – silence. “Come and enjoy Gozo cheese, and not hear a peep out of that noisy rooster!” he declared.

The Quiet Festival of Birżebbuġa

The idea was a runaway hit—literally—as crowds flocked to Birżebbuġa for the Quiet Festival, where they were invited to commune in whispered conversations and soft applause. Mdina’s Silent City had nothing on this event. Toni’s masterstroke? A silent pastizzi eating contest: the highest accolade going to the one who could consume the most without making a crunch.

The Unseen Plot Twist

But as the festival thrived and Toni savored his success, the rooster, in a defiant act of poultry protest, crowed louder than ever. The noise-canceling headphones couldn’t drown out the sound that resonated around the island, declaring that silence might be golden, but in Malta, the rooster reigns supreme.

A Whisper of Victory

Despite his Quiet Festival success, Toni realized that complete silence was as likely as a traffic-free morning in Valletta. Nonetheless, his efforts were not in vain. The villagers had found a newfound appreciation for quiet moments, and the rooster? Well, it became the unofficial mascot of the town, its crow a reminder that while silence is beautiful, so too is the vibrant cacophony of Maltese life.

Mela, that’s the story of Toni Falzon and his quest for quietude. And while Birżebbuġa might not be the soundless sanctuary he had dreamt of, it was now a place where every dinging bell and even the rooster’s crow was met with a patient smile instead of a furrowed brow. Because sometimes, kollox, embracing what you can’t change is the true sound of serenity.

“Sure, we didn’t get complete silence, but at least there’s less shouting at the fish market,” chuckled Toni, chewing thoughtfully on a silent bite of his rabbit stew. “And that’s music to my ears.”