Żepp’s Day 2025: How Malta Turned a Retired Bus Driver into a National Holiday

**Żepp’s Day Dawns: How One Man’s Name Became Malta’s Unofficial End-of-Summer Festival**
*September 28, 2025*

At 6:47 a.m. the church bells of Siġġiewi rang 69 times—one for every year of Żepp Camilleri’s life—signalling that “Żepp’s Day” had officially begun. By 7 a.m. the village square was already a traffic jam of ħobż biż-żejt wrappers, push-chairs, and teenagers in €40 limited-edition Żepp tees. In any other country a random Sunday in late September would pass unnoticed; in Malta it has become the island’s most eccentric, home-grown micro-festival, named after a man who never asked to be famous.

Żepp (short for Giuseppe) was simply a retired bus driver who, in 2018, joked on live radio that “jien nibqa’ niċċelebra meta jkolli 60, għax minn hawn ’il quddiem id-dija volja!”—roughly, “I’ll keep celebrating once I’m 60, because from then on it’s all downhill!” Listeners adopted the line as a national motto for shaking off post-summer blues. Within weeks a Facebook group “Aħna lkoll Żepp” attracted 38,000 members. By 2020 bars in Buġibba were hosting “Żepp Karaoke,” and last year Air Malta cheekily sold “Żepp fares” to any destination under €69.

This morning the real Żepp—moustache still walrus-thick, cap tilted just so—arrived in an antique yellow Leyland bus, the same one he drove on the 62 Valletta-Rabat route for 32 years. Police escorted him through confetti cannons while a brass band played a souped-up version of “Viva l-Ħamalla.” “Mela, I used to get fined for being late,” he told *Hot Malta*, “now they close the roads for me!”

**From Meme to Movement**
Anthropologist Dr. Ritienne Xerri at the University of Malta argues that Żepp’s Day filled a vacuum. “After the village festa season ends, Maltese identity needs another collective exhale. Żepp offers secular ritual, self-deprecating humour, and a chance to moan about going back to work—cornerstones of Maltese culture.” The numbers back her up: 72,000 people—one in seven residents—attended last year, pumping an estimated €4.8 million into the economy, according to MTA figures.

**Island-Wide Takeovers**
In 2025 the celebrations have metastasised. Gozitan farmers organised a “Żepp Sheep Sprint” in Xlendi bay at dawn. Three Michelin-starred restaurants are serving a nine-course “Menu Żepp” featuring deconstructed rabbit stew and imqaret cigar smoke. Even the normally staid National Library launched “Check-Out Żepp,” waiving late fees for anyone named Joseph, Giuseppe or Josette.

But Siġġiewi remains ground zero. The local council, backed by corporate sponsors, erected a 12-metre inflatable “Bus Żepp” that doubles as a VR simulator of 1980s Maltese potholes. Children queued to be “drivers,” clutching cardboard punch cards just like the old days. Mayor Alessandra Tabone insists the day is more than nostalgia. “We’ve channelled the hype into charity: €2 from every Żepp T-shirt buys school stationery for 600 kids. That’s real impact.”

**Community at the Core**
Crucially, Żepp’s Day retains its amateur soul. Ninety-year-old Karmena from Qormi sold 400 figolla shaped like Żepp’s face. “I started at 2 a.m. My grandson said it’s ‘cute’—cute! In my day we called it idolatry!” Volunteer clean-up crews, the “Żeppies,” collected 2.3 tonnes of recyclables by sunset. And at 8 p.m. the square dimmed for a minute of silence honouring three late bus conductors who “would’ve loved the chaos,” Żepp said, voice cracking.

**The Future of a Folk Hero**
Will the craze survive once the flesh-and-blood Żepp is no longer around? Government officials already whisper about applying for UNESCO intangible heritage status, while merchandisers dream of Netflix documentaries. Yet Żepp himself remains grounded. “I’m just a pensioner who likes his rabbit too salty,” he laughed, autographing a baby’s bib. “If people need an excuse to smile before Monday, jien kuntent.”

As fireworks lit up the September sky—green and white, naturally—Malta closed its strangest chapter of 2025. No politicians made speeches. No Eurovision stars performed. Just an island squashed together, nursing sunburns and summer memories, united by the certainty that tomorrow the traffic lights will still be stuck on amber and the rent will still be too high—but today, for once, everyone was happily late, proudly ħamallu, and briefly, gloriously, Żepp.