A man from Mosta who is returning from a holiday abroad is not looking forward to hearing Maltese again for the first time in a week.
Mark Zammit, 32, is en route to Luton to catch a Ryanair flight back to Malta, after spending the past seven days in London.
“I’m dreading that sinking feeling,” Zammit told Bis-Serjetà from his seat on the airport bus.
“You know what I’m talking about. The one you get when you’re walking to your gate and in the distance you hear the shrill cry of a Maltese mother yelling at her little shits to behave or she’ll beat them to death. Or a group of teenagers with names like Shamalamazaya and Cleavmar who seem to think the rest of us are deaf. Or a Maltese grandad wearing a baseball cap loudly judging other foreigners.
“Then you get closer and you see the Primark bags and the junk food and the 10 pieces of oversized luggage that are all definitely overweight and even though you’re an atheist you think, ‘Lord, what did I do to deserve this curse?'”
Zammit also described how he had had a scare while walking through Oxford Street, but it turned out to be a family of Sicilians.
“I swear to God I’ll yank the plane door open mid-flight if I’m sat next to a tal-pepe family.”
At the time of writing, Zammit’s plane had just landed and he was about to be smacked in the face by humidity.
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