At first glance, Striscia la notizia is fluff TV at its finest. Two ballerine who have yet to master the basics of ballo carry out their dance routines on top of the newscasters’ table while the Gabibbo, a red-suited relative of Barney the Dinosaur, does his best to appear less graceful than both the blonde and the brunette. True to its name, Striscia la notizia prefers ‘news that slithers’. Part spoof and part protest, it broadcasts a motley series of television bloopers that make Motley Crew look like the perfect picture of eloquence. Its face-lift patrol showcases the aging insecurities of puffed-up showgirls and the show’s commentators transmit snippets meant to embarrass politicians and make us fully aware of just how slim the pickings look from our side of the political spectrum.
This pseudo news program is hosted by the very blonde, surprisingly solid Michelle Hunziker, who, despite her unarguable perfection, manages to stay likeable during the entire half-season she spends as sidekick to the older but still giovanile Enzo Gregio. Good weather brings two younger but less brilliant hosts, Ficarra and Picone, who were probably hired for the slightly amusing nature of their surnames.
Striscia is a varied show where a man with a toilet plunger tied to his head scours the country for swindlers and charlatans. Grass-roots reportage uncovers quack doctors, animal cruelty, human perversion, rampant bribery, state-run ineptitude and unreserved fraud. For me, the highlight is when Valerio Staffelli, il mio preferito, awards a golden trophy shaped like a snouted animal with hooves to those whose crimes or stupidity merit much more than a consolation prize. As things stand today, un tapiro d’oro may not mean justice, but it’s the next best thing.
To prove this point, I’ll tell you that a friend of mine reported a case to the carabinieri, who in response suggested she write to Striscia la notizia in order to solve the problem. Let me say that again, in case you blinked and missed it. The Italian military police are now telling citizens to contact Striscia instead of the cops as a way to uphold the country’s laws. And it’s this slithering piece of news that makes me want to change this column’s name from In other words to Io non ho parole. For although speechlessness may be the name of the game for television media, it’s certainly not the system of checks and balances described in history books.
But the best part of all this-the most speechless part-has yet to be told. I tried ‘Striscia-justice’ myself quite recently and found the results bullet proof in every way. In 2008, I worked for an association that incorporated more than 150 multiple-star hotels. It had received European money to fund in-house English courses and the funds allotted to pay the teacher were never, in fact, given to me.
Now, let me preface this by saying that Italy has taught me to be a live-and-let-live, diamo tempo al tempo kind of gal. Things in this country need time, and if you can’t accept that, you’d better not waste any more of it before moving on to a more quick-fix nation. I accept that payments are usually slower in coming than pension plans, and for all of 24 months, I was quite willing to adopt the ‘let’s give time to time’ philosophy. There’s no need to get worked up; the revolving world so often resolves itself.
After due anni, a dozen phone calls, innumerable unanswered e-mails and a very bad day, however, I reached the end of my rope. Requests and queries came to null. It was time for the tapiro. For the umpteenth time, I cradled the phone and listened to the scroll of reasons why my money was still in their holey hands, and then I played the ace card. ‘Let’s do this,’ I suggested. Mi informo about what you are doing with European Union funds and then for fun, I’ll write to Striscia la notizia. From what I’ve seen so far, your hotels would make quite a good show.’
Need I tell you that the full payment was made in a day? The payment was made in a day. In twenty minutes, in fact. Two years and 20 measly minutes. In other words, si salvi chi può. Let those who can be saved save themselves. That axiom is, I’m afraid, the very bottom line. Justice is rendered by the Gabibbo. Accept it and let the world revolve. But remember to say Striscia sparingly. Magic words should never be used for the wrong reasons. Thus, it’s best to pull them out only when in very dire straits or solely for the purpose of honorable self-preservation. And may the best tapir win.
