I’m not one of those dyed in the wool summer haters who moan for winter and heavy coats at every chance they get. On the contrary, when I actually do allow myself a summer, I quite enjoy the best stuff to do, that is eat ice cream, drink cold beer, swim and read or listen to blood curdling death metal on the beach. However, one thing I do fear and hate about summer is going to Buġibba. Here are my 4 Reasons why I hate Buġibba.

1: Traffic & Parking

We can all agree that driving in Malta is pretty shit. It’s a lawless game where the weak and hesitant go to the wall, literally. Driving and parking in Buġibba is even worse. I don’t mind parking a good ten minutes walk away from where I need to go, but not if it takes me 60 minutes to find that spot. What’s the point with dinner reservations if I’m going to be an hour late? Of course, this is not to mention the minor heart attack you get every time you realise that the parking spot you saw was a garage, or taken by some asshole in a Qashqai by the time you get to it.

2: Dirt

Let’s say, for euphemism’s sake, that Malta is not as clean as say, Zurich, but not as dirty as Naples. That generalisation does not apply to Buġibba. Man, that place stinks to high heaven. In winter it’s cleaner, what with God’s wrath in wave and rain format literally beating the crap out of the pavements, but in summer, with people dropping ice creams everywhere, vomit on the corners dog shit and restaurants’ garbage openly festering,Buġibba smells worse than the public bathrooms in Mumbai. In summer. On a cricket final.

3: Families

You may not have known this about me, but I’m not big on people. I’m especially not a huge fan of families, Maltese ones in particular. When they’re not yelling at each other from one side of the road to another or showing off their quad-core bellies while scoffing down more ice cream, they’re waddling down the Buġibba promenade, fat kids in tow, and hogging the whole berth of the pavement. This not even to list the horrible shit some of them wear, a lot of which brings a shudder to spine and a wee tear to the eye, laughter induced of course.

4: Ugly

I’m done talking about people; it’s not the people who are ugly. Bloody Buġibba is. Hideous if you ask me. That ridiculous piazza thing, bang in the middle. A million different designs for a million eateries. Lights lights and more lights. Abandoned hotels, and operational hotels which look abandoned. Butt ugly flats and apartments everywhere you look. I’m not saying that Sliema or Mosta or Qormi or Marsaskala are the Scarlett Johannssons of town aesthetics. I’m just saying that Buġibba compares to Mick Jagger, old, decrepit, with a wide bellowing mouth, which just so happens to be vomit encrusted.