I.M. Beck - quote unquote

The Nationalist Party is pushing its candidates with quite some vim and vigour and one of the buzz-words they're using is "consistent", a thinly-disguised dig at the other mob's legendary capacity for pulling u-ies (that's pronounced you-ees, in case you were wondering) and never letting anyone know where they stand on anything, such as VAT, the EU and, for all I know, the price of eggs.

A number of commentators have - in their turn - aimed a few jibes at the jolly old PN for not being a touch more imaginative in its campaign.

Truth be told, the jibers have a point, my eyes sort of glaze over when I hear these slogans being trumpeted all over the place and I sort of long for the cut and thrust of political debate of yore, when more incisive punches, sometimes of the verbal variety, used to be thrown.

But the word "consistency" does, at least, give me a peg on which to hang a hat that is particularly close to my heart at the moment.

You will have noted, a couple of weeks ago, that I had expressed the thought that one could do far worse than give Dr Ian Spiteri Bailey, a PN MEP candidate, a number one vote in the upcoming election. From what I can see, the young chap (well, young compared to me, anyway - he's not exactly a baby, if that was worrying you) has been quietly and effectively going about his electioneering business, giving the voters the well-earned impression that he's a good bet.

I can see, also, that the idea that he is a PN candidate hasn't caused him to abandon the principles that make him a good candidate.

Bailey, as his mates know him (and it's less of a mouthful than Spiteri Bailey, let's face it) is the UHM's lawyer and this particular band of brothers is currently having a bit of a barney with the government, which happens to be a PN government, as we all know (if it hadn't been, we wouldn't even be having these elections).

Now it is the received wisdom (at least here in Malta) that when you're touting for votes, you don't identify with anyone who might tee off your potential voters.

This being the case, you might have expected Dr Spiteri Bailey to try to distance himself from the union for the time being, so as not to remind people that they (the union) are being less than pally with the government.

Did he do this? Nope - far from it: instead of trying to pretend that the UHM doesn't exist, Dr Spiteri Bailey took a break from electioneering to present the union with a pile of copies of a publication he's prepared that outlines workers' rights under the new labour law, as well as a copy of his Masters in EU Law dissertation.

That's consistency in practice - you don't turn your back on your friends because they might be a bit embarrassing in the short-term.

Digestive juices

I am touched by Claire Bonello's concern for my digestive tract, as evidenced by her advice that I should go for greens this time around, because they're good for me.

It was particularly touching of the young legal beagle to think of my well-being at this particular juncture, when she is about to add to the world's stock of even younger potential legal beagles.

In fact, she might very well be reading this while waiting for the pop to go (or having just gone, for that matter) though it is in the nature of these things that precise timing is not a significant factor in the equation.

The only problem with the advice tendered, apart from its being the sort of advice most kids kick into touch as soon as mum gives it to them ("Go on, eat it up, it's good for you") is that in this particular instance, I can't even follow the advice.

I don't like bitter greens, that's why, and from the amount of griping that's coming from that corner of the vegetable basket, I'm worried that I might get indigestion if I go for them.

And after my trials and tribulations on the digestive front, I'm not exactly up for more tummy trouble.

Wogan's woes

Yes, I did it too last weekend. I stayed in and watched the Eurovision, I mean, even though I knew that come the time for votes to be cast, scant regard would be given to quality.

Now let's be clear: like any other red blooded male, I am second to none in my appreciation of the Ukrainian entry. Legs like those emerging from a costume like that topped by other fine body parts and a face that is angelic (the angel in question being a fallen one, of course) cannot but fail to inspire feelings that if described in any sort of detail, would lead to this part of the column being consigned to the editor's spike.

But apart from that consideration, precisely what value is there in anything to do with the Eurovision Song Contest, for countries such as ours? OK, fine, the couple who represented Malta were very good, they were clearly enjoying themselves and, given that we don't have any neighbours willing to vote for us come what may, they actually got a very good placing.

I'm happy for them.

Apart from that, what return did we get for the presumably quite considerable amount of cash spent on entering the competition? From what I could see, Turkey got some pretty fine exposure for its tourist spots, but, if you'll forgive my asking, what did we get?

It would be a pity if participation were to be suspended until such time as the voting system resembles less a Third World beano, because for better or for worse, the local music scene gets a little bit of a fillip out of the contest, but surely the money could be better spent.

I'll miss Terry Wogan's comedy turn next year, but I really have vowed not to watch it. The sight of simpering Slavs and sundry other middle-Europeans making nice to their neighbours is too nauseating.

Language matters

Last Tuesday I was listening to a thoughtful speech by Doctor Alfred Sant in the House, while he was participating in the debate on the Maltese Language Bill. Himself a word-smith of no mean reputation, the dear fellow was lamenting the vicissitudes that exercise the national language and in this, I find myself standing up, figuratively speaking, to applaud him.

The barbarisms visited on the hapless pate of the Maltese language have to be heard to be believed. I am not one of those who would promote Maltese to the detriment of English, of course, but when I hear or read some of the howlers that are perpetrated, virtually on a daily basis, I have to squirm.

Of course, the people who perpetrate said howlers don't do any squirming themselves, as they don't even realise that they are committing GBH on the language.

One small example will suffice. According to many, many writers and speakers, Donald Rumsfled should ask for an apology (jitlob apologija) for the ratty things US soldiers are doing in Iraq. Now in English, you make an apology or ask pardon for something, but it seems that for the morons who delight in torturing our language, this subtle distinction is lost forever.

The sad thing is that very few people have a command of any language any more: we lost English a long time ago and now it seems that Maltese is going the same way.

While on the subject of Doctor Alfred Sant, which we were, if only peripherally, have you got the impression, as have I, that he's started to campaign to get himself elected again?

He's deigned to appear on a couple of programmes produced by his erstwhile unmentionables Where's Everybody and we were regaled with an in-depth interview in a Sunday glossy last Sunday.

I didn't see the telly programmes, but I'm told he came over quite well, not least because he likes animals. Insofar as the magazine piece was concerned, I have to say that it induced a coma-like state, being as I was reading it on Sunday afternoon and it was somewhat tediously technical.

Oh well, he's got to start his campaign some time, I suppose. All I can say is "Oh Lord, here we go again!"