“The Disposable Generation”

Written by Alex Hickey

A trip through the dark pits, rancid nooks and crannies, and soft white underbellies of a generation of wild animals that have a newfound freedom from the circus of society and are now running wild without, socks, shoes, neck ties or even waistcoats.


Sunday 20th August

Is Donald Trump actually Elvis Presley? These are the kind of serious hard hitting questions the American media asks in these awkward times, and such important questions are becoming of increasing concern; especially on this island of ours! So let’s delve in and see how this kind of deranged and unwelcomed piece of news would possibly affect our nearest and dearest little island nation.

Walking down a dark empty road of a quiet Gozitan town, I spied a small 80’s model Volkswagen with a picture of none other than the king himself affixed to the hood of the car. I was taken aback for a moment before remembering the obsession that the older generation of Maltese people have with this character. Not that I’m not a fan, I go in and out but there is a genuine obsession about him, Elvis is still very much alive on these islands.

So what if this enigmatic figure turned out to secretly be the same person who is quickly becoming one of the most hated people on earth? Well, naturally international views and relationships with the USA will be altered significantly, but what of us? What would we do with that kind of intensity of knowledge? Well, for a start there would be a major shift in view of America here and some would be good and some would be bad.

I think the first sentiment of the Maltese people would be a complete disgruntled moan, because if there is anything Maltese people hate more than America, it’s change. For days, there will be utter and complete chaos, people running about not know what to do or think, people honking their horns as they speed along in dismay, obscenities galore and a general sense of chaos that happens whenever they are confronted with change.

After that, they may go into a strange melancholic sense of acceptance, a time to get away and reform their ideas and what kind of emotion they will choose to harbor with this new truth. Some will hate and some will feel comfort but slowly people will re-emerge and start to welcome the strange news.

So much so, I think, that a genuine sentiment might evolve. People might feel a sense of nostalgia for the newly resurrected king and a deep sympathy for the character he developed. People might take him in with open arms and comfort him as a downed hero, and revel in the fact that he will be running the show now. There may even be tears from some of the older generation and generally, the younger generation will say they knew all along.

That same time I was in Gozo I stopped over at a bar for what was supposed to be a real treat. I had heard of this place through a poster that was clumsily hanging off the wall on some street corner, it was advertised as: “The Elvis of Gozo, not to be missed”. So I went in and a thick fog of cigarettes hung in the air, the crowd was rowdy and drunk, it was 9pm, not that I wasn’t I had had my fill on cigarettes, alcohol and the like and was ready for a damn fine time.

The crowd was inappropriately loud as the announcer came out; he too no doubt was just as drunk if not more than anyone else. The crowd let out a roar as he said:

“Now! Only at Johnny’s bar! What you’ve all been waiting for! The Elvis Presley of Gozo, iiiiiiit’s PISSY!”

And the crowd went wild, people banging and whistling and yelling PISSY! PISSY! I thought this was all very funny despite the obvious seriousness of these hard-core fans and sure enough, Pissy emerged, holding his beer for dear life, staggering drunk and about to fall over, dressed head to toe in of course only the corniest Elvis outfit you could possibly find. The first thing the bastard did was burp into the mic and introduce himself in a slur.

“I am, ehem Pissy, the Gozo Elvis, and I’m gonna sing some songs for you today!” He announced

The dj started the first few notes of ‘Hound Dog’ and after missing his first queue he rushed into a wild haze of drunken gibberish,

“You ain’t nuffin but a hummdeehmmm, y bin, hum dum hum” He muttered.

The crowd went wild, they absolutely loved it, some guys threw their beers to the floor, others started slammed their fists against the tables, others engaging in crude acts of public indecency involving their certain parts of their bodies being slammed repeatedly against the beer covered tables.

The organizer re-emerged promptly and put his arm around old Pissy who turned to embrace him as if the two were good pals from way back. The organizer led Pissy off the stage and to a back exit. The waitress had the door ready as the organizer let Elvis stumble forward just before he kicked him square in the ass.

The crowd was absolutely insatiable as the organizer brushed the incident off as a lot of good fun and such a pleasant evening. Pissy got up, it had seemed, and opened the door, swearing that he had left his phone in the bathroom and wanted it back. As he leaned in the doorway complaining, looking like an absolute wreck; some guy from the crowd did him the due diligence of throwing a half full bottle of beer right at his face, surely knocking him out.

What’s the point of all this? The bottom line, well, it is true that like all other Mediterranean countries, Maltese people are very rambunctious, very outgoing and they like to have a good time, although sometimes a wild one. But one thing we don’t share is that we have no damn Gods, as soon as you come in we can throw you back out to the dogs.

And what if Trump did end up being Elvis Presley? At least we’ll have one less idiot in the world to worry about, perhaps one more too. So in the end does it really matter? A better story to write would be about how Kim Jong Un gives Trump secret hand-jobs in the U.N bathrooms. Now that’s a story worth telling, I don’t know if it has any relevance to our little island but who cares, people will soak in it.

So have no fear of nuclear annihilation or to wander into rough bars on the outskirts of Gozitan farm villages, don’t worry about Trump or the King or any pointless BS, in a world where you’ll never really know anyway, all you should really do is sit back and enjoy, the future’s uncertain and the end is always near, so just forget about it, enjoy!