I.M. Beck quote unquote

Doctor Alfred Sant appeared on Bondiplus, if that's how one spells it, last Tuesday.

Some things don't change, it seems, and others do. There was a time when the Leader of the Opposition wouldn't be seen dead in the same studio as anyone from Where's Everybody, so that's one thing that has changed. Or should that have been as anybody from Where's Everyone?

What hasn't changed, though, is Doctor Alfred Sant's apparent conviction that he can fool all (or most) of the people most (or all) of the time. Let me not be misunderstood, lest I am thought to be accusing him of lying or deliberately trying to hoodwink people. What I am referring to is the old adage that while you can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time, you can't fool all of the people all of the time.

The thing is, if you're a politician, you think you can, and our hero is the consummate politician. A fr'instance will illustrate. Lou Bondì, of soon to be Eurovision fame (at least, I think I read somewhere he's going to be hosting the Malta end of that sublime rock-fest), got onto Doctor Alfred Sant's case about inflation now and then, the then referring to the time he was Prime Minister. Bondì crunched the numbers and pointed out that, in his guest's time, inflation stood at 3.8 per cent while now it stands at three per cent, so whichever way you slice it, it's lower now.

The response from the dear fellow (not Bondì) was that he (Bondì) should first, check his facts and, second, work out the comparison on a month-by-month basis.

Now, I am not an economist and certainly not one with a large Harvardian brain, and the last time I did any economics was at sixth form, when we used an abacus as the latest thing in aids to calculation, but even I know that if you're talking about annual inflation, you don't do a month by month comparison.

But then, I might be completely wrong and that is precisely the way to do it, in which case I will bow my head in shame. On the other hand, for the time being I will make as bemused a face as Mr Bondì did.

On break

OK, I'm back at the keyboard after having hoovered down 75 per cent of a rather excellent pizza, the last 25 per cent being too much even for me to dispose of.

It's been a most enjoyable break, too, what with Arsenal being 2 - 1 down at home and Man U being 2 - 1 down away, the latter after one of the most comical howlers seen on a footy pitch on which I am not.

Correction, Man U just went 3 - 1 down. This is fun, even if Liverpool aren't losing.

On irrelevance

Now that summer is no longer with us (there's an understatement) and people don't fetch up on our shores every so often, the revolting rightists have become somewhat less relevant to the immediate debate than they were a couple of months ago.

This is not to be taken to mean that they don't constitute something of a source of mirth and wonderment at the offensiveness of their sentiments and the respect they have for exactitude in their statements. Take, for instance, a recent exchange of correspondence such as the one that caught my eye last week. Mr Norman Lowell denied an accusation that he had suggested stringing up immigrants or whatever.

And he did that without a discernible trace of irony or evidence of a tongue (his own, of course) in his cheek.

He was, of course, right, apart from being rightist, as the chap who had engaged him conceded. Lowell had not advocated stringing up immigrants, merely shooting them three miles out. Stringing up, as I recall and was reminded by Lowell's interlocutor, was a pleasure to be reserved for porky columnists and their ilk.

Lucky the lamppost that will have to bear my un-featherlike incorporation of avoirdupois, says I, but Mr Lowell's nit-picking and capacity for sounding like a prevaricating weasel is not the point of this segment, so I'll get on with it before I succumb to the temptation of carrying on with a spot of Lowell baiting.

The irrelevancy that inspired this piece, then, is not Mr Lowell but the Alleanza Nazzjonali Repubblikana, which, one reads in MaltaToday, is to be addressed by Dr Victor Ragonesi on the man that was Dr Giorgio Borg Olivier.

Dr Borg Olivier, of course, is not an irrelevancy. He piloted our maturity into statehood despite the various obstacles put into his path by those who eventually would ride on his achievement to give birth to the Republic, as if this were the real achievement.

Having said that, I'm not sure what the point of the story really was: Dr Ragonesi is hardly a mover and a shaker nowadays and even if he had known that he was to address a group of rightists, would this have been particularly relevant?

On solidarity

While on the subject of being inspired by MaltaToday, I have to express my solidarity with Saviour Balzan, its editor and prime mover.

In our time, Saviour and I have crossed swords and had quite a few slashes at each other, perhaps getting a bit too close to the bone, on occasion, for the comfort of either of us. The fact remains, however, that if I had a pistol put to my head and I was forced to declare which side of the scales I would put the dear fellow, I'd have to put him on the side of the good guys, our various differences notwithstanding.

Thus, and even therefore, in the context of the story that we were told in MaltaToday last Sunday, about how Saviour Balzan had his collar felt by the boys in blue because he was suspected of having committed the heinous crime, about a year ago, no less, of advertising a casino, I have to express my solidarity with him.

And I can only do this by making a declaration.

The declaration is this: at the casino in St Julians, yes, gambling does take place and the establishment is open to the public at various times of the day. And I will add to my potential criminality by going to point out that the same activity, gambling, takes place at the casino in Bugibba and at the casino in Vittoriosa.

And it will also take place, gambling, that is, I have no doubt, at the various other casinos that will be licensed in due course. And this is apart from all the gambling that takes places legally and illegally all over the place.

Now if the rozzers want to have me in for questioning, all they have to do is send me an e-mail to the address 'ere below and I'll happily set up a little meeting with them. On the other hand, if the story wasn't accurate when carried in last Sunday's MaltaToday, then the various people who had fingers pointed at them had every opportunity to challenge it. As of Wednesday evening, when I am tapping this stuff out while waiting for the son and heir to roll up with the take-away pizza and watching the Champions being champion, no one had challenged the story.

Just for the record and since it's absolutely immaterial, I suppose I should mention that I have a professional connection (not as an advertising agent) with the Dragonara Casino.

On closing

On closing, I'll remind the mayor of Gzira that his council has not done anything to fix Luqa Briffa Street. Incidentally, I know that this is not the only horrendous road in Malta, but I haven't the space or inclination to start a list of roads to blush by.

So as not to appear to be totally anti-local council, I'll pat the Lija council on its collective back for fixing, in short and sharp order, a pothole the likes of which can only be seen in - just to take a random example - Luqa Briffa Street. Now if only the Lija councillors could take a shot at getting that flipping cop who slaps tickets on my car at 3 a.m. to stop it, they will earn even more plaudits.

No plaudits, however, for the people at the Nationalist PR-helm, for their headline in In-Nazzjon last Wednesday which told the world that an ex-Labour MP was being done for fraud. The unfortunate fellow's alleged misdemeanours have nothing to do with his political inclinations, such as they are, and the reference to these inclinations does nothing other than contribute to keeping this country mired in the parochialism of parish pump politics.

And on coming to the real end, I'll perform my usual service for the eating classes.

I know I've mentioned them before but for simple consistency, they deserve another entry in my despatches from the front. If you want good Indian food, served well, head towards Paceville (there's parking close, don't worry) and snag a table at Namaste, where the discerning sup often.

You will be rewarded in the same way that virtue is and you can figure that one out for yourselves.

bocca@waldonet.net.mt