Dear Maltese Radio,

I was driving back from work today and heard that new radio ad promoting some new fitness class or other. You know the one: it starts off with someone apparently gargling with a vocoder, “ba baraq baraq baraq bowaq” and goes on to say how it was developed by “a former Navy SEAL commander” at which point, I have started to answer out loud in my best former navy seal commander voice “I COMMAYND YOU, NAVY SEAL.... qoowq-qoowqa-qoowq” followed by lots of manic barking seal noises (followed, in turn, by much coughing).

You have to find a way to keep yourself amused when stuck in traffic, right?

It got me thinking though, what makes a good radio ad? It’s got to be memorable, so as to spring to mind as soon as a situation where whatever it’s advertising might help, but not too memorable or it will lead to hostility towards the product. Some jingles start off sounding ok but then start to grate after a few thousand listens, like the old Ira Losco Yellow Pages ad (“turututtutu, Yellow Pages my arse”. Or something to that effect. I used to sing along to that one too, shouting the last bit). Now you know I love you Ira, but you’ve got to admit-it was overplayed. To death. Yes it sticks in your memory but do they intend to make you want to use the product or claw your eyes out when you next see it?

Still, no amount of overplaying Ira can beat the Maltese language ads. “Mela aslu wasla sas-sale grandjuz ta XYZ ltd” always evokes a chuckle. You’d expect to be welcomed by a plump moustachioed circus conductor, trapeze artists and fire-eaters to this grandiose event, rather than the dregs of Maltese society gone bargain hunting. Mind you, I've never been motivated enough by those half-arsed ads to actually go to one of those sales so, for all I know, it might just be like my original expectation.

Some are just toe-curlingly awful: A dowdy-sounding old matron stating matter-of-factly “Ixrob ħalib Lizard Brand, il-ħalib tal-bott il-blu. Tajjeb mat-te u maċ-ċerejali ta’ filghodu”[1]. Well, you haven’t exactly left me with much of a choice now have you, matron? There’s no “try Lizard Brand milk etc..”, it’s a direct command (or commaynd if you happen to be a Navy SEAL) so you almost feel compelled to obey. Perish the thought of telling her you don’t like tea or don’t usually eat breakfast cereals-she’d probably box your ears and send you to bed early.

Oh and there should be a law preventing businessmen and women from making their own radio voiceovers. One particular radio ad, obviously written, directed and performed in a stilted 1940s tal-pepe accent by the owner of the establishment in question (I recognize the voice, because I’ve spoken to her before and she sounds awfully propah, yah) has resulted in many unfortunate radios being launched across the room. Seriously, woman, are you that much of a control freak that you think you can make a better ad than, say, people who do this for a living? She sounds like the somnolent-voiced bloke who reads the football scores on BBC Radio 5 live but about a thousand times less enthusiastic. As wooden as a prairie oak, that old bird. She must be a right barrel of laughs in bed.

Thank heavens Christmas is over and with it all those ho-ho-ho-ing and sleigh bells and that “Father Christmas” actor who really sounds like he’s just shagged an underage boy and is looking for more. God, he was really starting to annoy me. And yes, I did have imaginary conversation out loud, in the Father Christmas voice, with the boy, whilst driving home. Contents of that conversation are sadly not repeatable, so I’ll leave it to your imagination.

Then there are the phone-ins. Maltese radio studio phone-ins are the stuff of nightmares. I don’t envy the presenters in the least. I wouldn’t last long taking calls asking for the “bone doctor from last week” when this week's guest has been explaining bloody succession law for the past 90 minutes.

You get people who think they have become mini-celebrities in their own right because they call the station, every bleeding day. These creatures leap at every opportunity to hear themselves on "the rediffusion" and, with complete disregard to the topic being discussed, have a good old-fashioned chinwag with the presenter about the presenter’s family and how things are with her sister and her recurring health problems, as if to tell the rest of the audience “me and the presenter, we’re tight yo. I am, therefore to be envied”.

These phenomena merit proper academic study, but I doubt anyone has the stomach to listen to more than a few minutes of phone-ins at one go, so it may take a while.

“The Kazinification of Maltese Radio. A study.” Any brave academics out there?

TCM