I may have left the country but news of it follows me doggedly everywhere. It would be no understatement to say I am closer to Malta now than I ever was during all the time I lived on the island.

A statement like this takes on new meaning in the context of my engagement with local politics. I had become so inured to the vagaries of the all-pervasive drama that is political life in Malta that I generally managed, not without some effort, to maintain a healthy distance.

My lack of interest in local politics threw some colleagues into varying degrees of despair and/or astonishment. I would never amount to much as a journalist if I did not take an interest in politics, I was repeatedly told, so I immediately set about trying to prove everyone wrong.

You would think it was a matter of modest exertion to float through life unsullied by the incessant, shrill histrionics which accompany the painstakingly detailed analysis of each local election, now that I have managed to put 2,000 kilometres between me and my home country. You would be wrong.

Consequently, I nearly cried foul at my nearest and dearest when he helpfully initiated a discussion of the weekend's local council elections without so much as fair warning. "Have you heard ...?"

"Erm," I ventured tentatively, realising that he was in the grasp of some deep emotion. "Something about the Nationalists getting a drubbing?" I thought that was quite a safe bet.

"I did not vote," he told me testily, "and now I am being patronised by the PM on the telly and it's making me furious."

"There, there," I muttered ineffectually. "What is he saying?"

"Something about this being the backlash to the government's courageous decisions."

"Well," I said peaceably, "he has to say something." That earned me a stony silence. "It would be nice if he were a little repentant," I hazarded, realising that there was a time for peace and a time for allowing a loved one to rant unhindered.

He kept up the simultaneous translation. "He is also chastising those who abstained from voting, saying they do not realise the important consequences of their inaction."

"Eek," I squeaked, "I feel a column coming on. But anyway, why didn't you vote?" I asked unwisely.

"Well," he thundered, "it bloody well was not the pensions reform which was way overdue and admittedly necessary, although anyone with a little bit of grey matter between their ears has already taken out a private pension scheme because, quite frankly, who would trust the government with one's future?"

"And it wasn't the water and electricity surcharge. I am not an idiot. I get it. The price of oil has gone up, we have no natural resources, so we have to pay the market price. It's no fun having to dig deeper into my pocket to pay my electricity bill, but, given that this government still has not thought it important enough to invest in sustainable and renewable energy sources such as wind and solar energy..." I murmured something soothing.

"That Prime Minister of ours," he muttered darkly, "is flying so high that from where I'm standing he is little more than a fleck. How the heck does he expect to hear the people on the ground?"

"That's all very well," I retorted spiritedly, "but why didn't you vote?" Half an hour later, I was still holding on, aghast at the rant my question had unleashed.

"I did not vote because this government has failed me on every count.

"I have had it with the roads. I don't want to drive any more but I have no alternative. I cannot handle the pot-holes. I cannot handle the archaic public transport system that I cannot use. I cannot handle the flooded roads every time it drizzles, turning me into a house-bound prisoner. I cannot handle the expense of keeping my car, just because there is no political will to change the status quo, and take us all into the 21st century.

"I hate the idea of the Valletta park-and-ride scheme because I know I am going to be penalised for having a job that requires me to be in Valletta, and my pocket is going to be wrenched for more money than must be spent on a scheme that I do not want, but which will be forced down my throat with this government's characteristic arrogance and I-know-best attitude.

"I hate what this government has done with my professional life. I cannot handle the arrogance with which reform was introduced into my sphere of legal operation, rendering my professional life a nightmare to cope with, scaring away business and decimating my income simply because the 'reform' has made it prohibitively expensive for many people to exercise their rights through legal action.

"I hate that the government insists on bringing Catholic beliefs into the law courts, which should be our most secular of institutions. I am saddened to hear of the humiliation couples have to endure to try and rectify their mistake in marrying the wrong person.

"I am sickened by the bigotry and the hypocrisy in pandering to pro-life movements, and the rights of the unborn, when people who are very much alive and kicking in detention centres are being treated with less dignity than battery chickens.

"I've really, really, had it with the fact that wherever I turn there's a camera looking down at me, watching my every move. If I wanted to live in Switzerland, I would have moved there.

"I am angry at how my tax money is being squandered, while I struggle to make ends meet on an income that most of my peers in other parts of Europe would find derisory and humiliating.

"I feel so cheated by the tax on air departure. If there is anything which may just prevent us from going stir crazy, it would be the ability to get out of here on a regular basis. We need that option. So what does the government do? It drags its feet on low-cost airlines, and then, to really add insult to injury, tops up the departure tax, making it insultingly expensive to leave the Rock."

At which point he had to stop to breathe and I deftly steered the conversation away from local councils and prime ministers. Later, it dawned on me that I was in possession of highly valuable empirical evidence (population sample: 1) of current voter dissatisfaction and it may be useful to help bring voter and politician together. The truth is that, hell, if I had to listen to it, someone else may as well share in the excitement.

Ms Spiteri is a journalist and a researcher in media and identity based at the University of Sussex.

s.spiteri@sussex.ac.uk