Exactly what did that theatre studies student hope to achieve by calling Austin Gatt by a noun that begins with W and an adjective that begins with F?

This particular cabinet minister has been called a lot of names in his time and is famously immune to insults, so he was never going to react with the sort of cold fury to which Alfred Sant, say, succumbed time after time. And so this is not about him, though had he reacted by reciprocating in perfect retaliation – difficult to imagine – or asked for her arrest and interrogation, which she would have absolutely adored, he would have definitely become the story.

And he’s not a rock star or entertainer, so he can’t very well shoot back with some amusing remark that turns the tables and breaks the tension, like “Sweetheart, I love you too. What’s your number, darling?”

So as things were, he just walked past as though he hadn’t heard anything, which is – though I hate to say it – a major identifier of social background. When people insult you to your face, or ask invasive questions, you are supposed to behave as though you haven’t heard and just carry on, so as not to add to the embarrassment that somebody else has caused. I had to contend with a similar situation myself some weeks ago when the estranged wife of a Labour politician headed towards me as I stood with friends at a party to raise funds for a heritage organisation, and with a wide smile on her face proceeded to pass spiteful remarks. I walked away without responding, to speak to somebody else, and when I had finished I found her standing behind me, waiting to have another go. So I left. We were on our way out anyway.

The point is that nobody who heard her say what she did thought that she was smart, or clever, or even as spirited as she takes pride in being. They just thought that she hadn’t taken her medication. There is a time and place for everything, and insulting people loudly and unprovoked, at social gatherings which are supposed to unite guests in levity and a common purpose, is bad behaviour precisely because you cause awkwardness and embarrassment to people other than the object of your insults. Poor manners reflect badly on the person who tries to cause this sort of scene, and not on the recipient of insults.

Nicola Abela Garrett is only 20 or thereabouts, so we can dismiss her need to call Minister Gatt a FW in front of an audience as little more than the cavalier bravado of youth. I distinctly recall shouting exactly the same thing at the Foreign Minister when I was 21, the contextual difference being that Alex Sceberras Trigona had just swished past us in his chauffeured limousine and a convoy of thugs, displacing us in the queue for the ferry from Gozo to Malta – there were only three or four daily trips back then – and leaving us stranded there. The other contextual difference is that as his thugs emerged from their cars to deal with me (I had bothered to give them the Maltese version too, knowing they were unlikely to understand FW), those who were with me pushed me back into the car and fended them off by saying ‘She’s pregnant.’ Not that they couldn’t see that to start with.

Let’s just say that if I were 21 today I would feel absolutely no need to call any member of this government a FW. If I were 21 today it would be absolute heaven. Every day I wake up with a stab of regret that I was born in 1964 and not 1984, but my consolation – and it is great – is that my sons, who are roughly Nicola Abela Garrett’s age, have done and are doing many of the things I wanted to do myself but couldn’t because I lived on a wretched rock with a worthless passport and a socialist government that seemed dead set on turning us into Albania and, by 1987, had almost succeeded.

Perhaps Nicola Abela Garrett hasn’t had the good fortune of growing up with a sense of perspective imparted by parents who briefed her properly on this island’s recent history, but to those of us who have that perspective, she is a living example of the Nationalist Party’s incredible success in transforming Malta from a hellhole prison to a member state of the European Union, with all the normal freedoms and opportunities. Buses are the single greatest looming problem in Ms Abela Garrett’s life. She is in heaven, and she doesn’t know it. Elsewhere, she’d be paying rent for a real garret and eating cornflakes every meal of the day while looking for a job along with a couple of thousand other applicants.

If you think Austin Gatt is a FW, Ms Abela Garrett, you would have had a high old time being 20 in 1984. Don’t ask your parents why. Find out for yourself.