Whatever the mallepulpus’s moral stature, it would not allow its enemies an uneventful exit. Even as Jacob, dripping and shivering, urged the Abbess and the canonesses to back away from the shore, a portion of the swamp coalesced into a roaring and amorphous mass of silt and muck. With a noise like a thousand oxen breaking wind, the monstrous pudding detached itself from Paludis Cochlea, flopped onto the shore, and undulated forward, seeking to suffocate its parent bog’s tormentors.
LAST night, April 7, the thriving market town of Órgiva celebrated its annual Viernes Santo event. In a traditional and well-attended procession, Santo
In a nutshell: just imagine, for a moment, what the Maltese political situation might actually look like, today… if only the Nationalist party had ‘seen the light’