I.M. Beck quote unquote

The biggest story this week, of course, concerned the increases in the fuel surcharge, which are hardly the cause of many smiles. Tuesday was not a happy day for the Prime Minister who had to tell us all, through the medium of the Onorevolijiet, the bad news of how international oil prices were going to eat up a goodly portion of what is left in our pockets after the flippin' taxman does his thing. For that matter, it was not a happy day for us mere mortals who were busy working out the increased running cost of owning the high-powered air conditioning unit in the dining room and the flashy car for which we spent a decade saving.

I suppose I'll have to join the masses and hurl imprecations at the government for not doing something about it. Precisely what the government is expected to do about it, it being the price of oil, is not something that is immediately clear to me but for a change I will do what everyone else seems to want to do and scream and shout and run about.

I will also, for the pleasure and delectation of those who think I am a running dog lackey of the power-hungry clique that runs the country, have a good cry and mumble something about what a useless blinking government this is for not striking oil and for being powerless in the face of international events. I mean to say, if the United States and France and Germany and all those other big powers like us can do something, why can't we?

What do you mean, they can't do anything either? Oh, then our government is even more useless, if it can't do better than the United States and France and Germany and all those other big powers.

So there.

What moves the man?

In this atmosphere of doom and gloom, one can only thank heavens for small mercies. A small mercy came in the form of your favourite and mine, Doctor Alfred Sant. I confess I was not shocked that the dear fellow pronounced himself "shocked" (great play on words - even the meanest of mean intelligences got it on Wednesday morning) at the surcharges announced by the government. Let's grant the dear chap the benefit of the doubt and assume it was not mock shock but even so you have to think that it must have been a rather lonely experience for Doctor Alfred Sant to be surprised at what had just happened.

The rest of us who live on this planet, and whose sources of news are only slightly broader than Super One, have known that this, or something like it, was going to happen for some time. Doctor Alfred Sant, on the other hand, was shocked. Well, he said he was, anyway and that's good enough for me.

Doctor Alfred Sant, just a bit, was shocking to me himself when he acknowledged that the current price increases are due to the international events. He said he knew this would be the case, or so he claimed, back in 1997 when his government "had indications" that by 2005 international oil prices would have shot up. He had acted on those "indications" raising electricity rates in 1997 to prices even higher than the burdensome rates we are groaning at just this week. For that, I suspect, he expects our gratitude though perhaps most people would rather think of the money they saved since 1998 when, thanks to the "short-sightedness" of this administration, every year we paid far less than Doctor Alfred Sant would have had us pay. But then, I don't have an enormous brain which can cope with pre-savant economics.

But let's leave aside the issue of whether raising electricity rates back in 1997 was a nifty idea. I found interesting his claim that in 1997 local prices were raised because our hero knew that in 2005 international oil prices would be so high.

He jests, surely? Did the prescience of Doctor Alfred Sant (notice my second use of p and r, there) in 1997 have him forecast the September 11 attacks of three years later, too? If in 1997 he knew about the Iraq war of 2003, the Yukos affair in Russia and the extraordinary hurricane season in the Caribbean this year, to say nothing of the rapaciousness of the owners of the countries whereunder oil resides, then why is Doctor Alfred Sant Leader of the Opposition with a penchant for shooting at his own toes? With his gift of foresight, he should easily have seen the writing on the wall and embraced membership of the EU instead of joking about with Swiss cheese and yodels.

Oh well, at least by putting his mouth to the use to which it has become accustomed (that is to say a receptacle for his foot) Doctor Alfred Sant continues to provide me with some relief from the pretty uniform fog of despondency that seems to have descended on our fair land.

Concert for shame

A story in Malta Today, last Sunday, was worrying, to say the least. According to the report, which did not see the light of day in any other medium, a number of prominent local firms had withdrawn their support from Claire Baluci's Concert for Africa "because the proceeds would not be going to local charities".

This mealy-mouthed phrase is code for "we don't want to help no bleckies", of course, and it sits well with the rampant racism and bigotry that is raising its head in this so-called Catholic country. Many friends of mine, proud card-carrying members of the cosseted and comfy middle class, have made pointed remarks about my sticking up for immigrants, generally accompanied by sentiments which are not a million miles away from the "let them drown" ideas spouted by Bigot-in-Chief Lowell. Sitting equally comfortably with the incipient xenophobia espoused by so many Maltese is the deafening silence of the Church Organised and the appeasements proposed by many MLP spokesmen.

If the story in Malta Today has any truth in it, the names of these "prominent firms" should be broadcast so they can stick up for themselves and prove to the court of public opinion that they are not pandering to the shamefulness that sadly permeates our society. While on the subject of racist bigotry, could I suggest that you watch Crash, a movie that came out recently? While you're watching, reflect where on the food chain you figure, along with the smug middle class white supremacists who infest this country and see if you have any right to look down on any other human being, white, black, brown, yellow or any other hue in between.

The concert story was not the only show biz story that hit the news this week, of course. Of far greater importance was the news that rocked Malta to its very foundations, that is to say the news that Ms Grace Borg, her of the red hair and the redder talons, had resigned the chair of the Maltasong Board, apparently because of some tiff about whether foreign songsters and songsmiths should be allowed to compete with local talent.

Now that is real news.

Provender and Brussels sprouts

Homer, in the form of me, nodded last week and used the word "provender" when he meant to use "purveyor", which was really dumb of me, considering I had already been upbraided for doing that same thing some time ago.

I duly grovel and ask forgiveness.

Dwelling on the subject of provender (in its correct sense, this time) I shall regale you with stories of food, the ingestion thereof, in parts local and foreign. Careful readers of this column will have noticed that last week I put the words together a bit earlier than usual, due to travel commitments. These commitments were to a tour of the institutions of Brussels by courtesy of one of our hard-working MEPs, Simon Busuttil. If it were not for the fact that I know he is genuinely a hard-working MEP, I would have hesitated from using the phrase, lest I fell foul of the temptation to be sarcastic about MEPs.

Anyway, a few days in Brussels, learning about how the EU works, were just what the doctor ordered, because thereby I managed to fit in a few meals at establishments that purvey provender of the highest order of quality. Just as a quick run through, for those of you who head North to the capital of Europe, we had meals at Restaurant Vincent (great food, lousy, lousy service), Les Crustaces (great bouillabaisse and good service) and a couple of pasta houses near Place Luxembourg run by Italians with Italian flair but whose names sadly escape me. You head across the square with your back to Parliament and they're on your left about a block down.

Home after a horrendous check-in experience (capital of Europe? Pah!) after which it was a relief to be given service by Air Malta's calm and efficient staff, it was back to the usual grind of trying out some places for you. Not much to report on, as the weekend was easy, though we tried out Fra Giuseppe again in Balzan, which is now up and running with some pretty good stuff on offer. A chance stroll (frantic search, actually) through the alleys of Rabat fetched me up at the Baron bar and snackery, which is a pretty interesting place and, finally, if you want a take-away with a difference, I determined that you could do worse than try the taco joint on Dingli Circus in Sliema.

'Way the lads

As you read this, the Malta Rugby Football Union team will be getting ready for their most difficult challenge to date. They're up against Germany, a test which will be a tough one, to put it mildly.

As Lord Nelson had put it (or not - I'm sure someone will write in and put me right) "England (oh all right, Malta) expects every man to do his duty". In this case, your duty is to turn up and lend your voice to the endeavour.

bocca@waldonet.net.mt