I.M. Beck - quote unquote

Hunting, I mean. What is it going to take, somebody getting killed? Not that there haven't been hunting accidents which have resulted in someone's death, of course, but you know what I mean.

First we had the repeated spectacle of protests by hunters turning aggressive but restraining themselves to overt threats and minimal property damage. Then we had journalists being beaten - and, yes, one of them was my son, which is why I'm strong on this one. Then we had environmentalists threatened and called all manner of names, including "Nazis" (echoed with apparent relish by It-Torca).

Now we've had someone, a living, breathing, human being, shot, luckily without lasting damage. Whether this is because the shooter who was ultra-negligent was lucky or whether it is because s/he was a lousy shot is debatable - suffice it to say that the reaction from the one who fired the shot was a hasty retreat, combined with threats and insults.

I have it on good authority (my son, who knows the guy) that Mr Ray Vella, the latest victim of the hunting fraternity's bonhomie and goodness, is one of the world's all-round decent blokes. When the offspring met with him recently to cover the thuggish vandalism wreaked on the tree-planting project Mr Vella oversees, he was more concerned about the attack on Ben (my son) than on the destruction his project had suffered.

Now his thanks is to have been shot, accidentally or otherwise (and I can't put my hand on my heart and come down on the side of either option, though, emotionally, I know where I'm heading) and then insulted and threatened.

Great, the Federation of Bird-Killing Conservationists, or whatever it is they delude themselves that they are, has expressed its regret. Big whoop: They can take their regret and do with it what they please.

Enough is enough: People can't be allowed to go around carrying guns anymore.

Faint praise

The Hon. Joseph Abela, speaking in Parliament, congratulated Dr Katrine Camilleri on her UNHCR Award and promptly went on to render his congratulations less substantial than tin by saying that the criteria on which such awards are made should be made public and examined.

Just to confirm that Scrooge is alive and well in this happy republic, the dear fellow tried to debase Minister Tonio Borg's previous congratulations of Dr Camilleri by implying that the minister should have spent his time "doing something about immigrants" instead of congratulating people who work in the interests of the immigrants.

What a sad reflection on our national mentality this is. Instead of being proud of people like Dr Camilleri, we cast doubts, consciously or subconsciously, on their achievements and play to the lowest of the low in the gallery.

Even people who are renowned for their apparent humanity, such as Dr Karm Mifsud Bonnici, crash and burn when populist notions and opinions are up for grabs. According to Dr KMB, immigrants should be given a couple of grand and shipped off to wherever they want to go, like so much ballast or surplus baggage. Of course, Dr KMB wants to do this because, thereby, Brussels is given the thumbs down, which is a gesture very close to the guy's heart.

No consideration is given to the fact that we have humanitarian, national, supra-national and legal obligations, of course, but this is someone who had once suggested that human rights should be suspended in favour of creating employment (though no one could actually ever figure out how one would lead to the other).

And, then we have the farce on the other side of the political spectrum, so far out to the right that it's meeting the far left round the back. Dr Josie Muscat, head honcho with AzNazz, is having a good old whine.

Ignoring, as one should, his protestations that the national TV station is ignoring his so-called party (as it should), did you catch his condescending, not to say downright rude, characterisation of the electorate? Now, I'm not exactly one of the greatest fans of the Great Unwashed, but even I have drawn the line (as far as I can recall) at calling its component members senseless.

Not so Dr Josie: While analysing the changes to electoral law, he made a remark that defined the electorate, in its current manifestation, as being devoid of sense. He told us, political analyst of the first water that he is, that, in order for his party to get votes, the electorate will have to come to its senses.

Well, if that's the way he thinks he's going to get people to vote for AzNazz, then that's his privilege, but, to quote Mr John McEnroe, "you cannot be serious". Having said that, he classifies himself as not being anti-women (as his political agenda has been classified) because he works with women so much: Since he is a renowned obstetrician and gynaecologist, one would be more than slightly surprised if he worked with any other gender.

Silly points

Sometimes I despair of the Nationalist Party spin-machine - with so much with which to beat the Leader of the Opposition about his hapless pate, they lose themselves on stupid little details that make us, the thinking members of society (pretentious, moi?) just cringe.

They (the PN spinners) made such a fuss last week about the fact that Dr Sant, when called on to take an oath, made a solemn declaration instead of kissing the cross. Dr Gonzi, who is a cut above this lot and then some, promptly squashed his own spinners.

The thing is, with so much of more profound importance upon which to comment about Dr Sant, as beautifully outlined by Daphne Caruana Galizia in the competition last Sunday (surf over if you haven't read it yet), stupid remarks about cross kissing are way, way counter-productive.

Anyone with an iota of nous, at this point, will have noticed that I am upbraiding the PN Spin Machine for not doing its job, which means that I think they should be doing their best to ensure that the electorate knows what it will be doing come the day. This should not come as a major revelation - even on the strength of his tired and emotional display in Birzebbuga alone, this man is clearly not up to the job and when you mix in all the stuff Daphne was on about, you have to conclude this man clearly doesn't want the job of running the country, even if he was up to it.

Incidentally, just for your elucidation, fans, the phrase "tired and emotional" is lifted from one of the best TV series of all time, Yes (Prime) Minister, whereat the adjunct "as a newt" also finds itself.

Then, to confirm the thesis that he doesn't want to become PM, you find yourself coming across Dr Sant being well and truly creamed by Dr Gonzi on Bondiplus, having to rely on some sort of German comic to "prove" that Malta is corrupt while including shoes, laces and socks within the definition of "educational services" in order to try to rescue his amazing gaffe about there being VAT on such services.

The sad thing about all this, of course, is the fact that this country doesn't have an opposition that's worthy of the name. Hell bent on character assassination, whining and whinging, destructive and obstructive criticism without even an iota of positive interaction, shirking the most basic of its responsibilities, the opposition just takes its lead from Dr Sant's smugly blithe assumption that they're going to win when the PM blows the whistle.

Well, even MaltaToday's polls show that this isn't a foregone conclusion, by a hell of a long chalk. The mere fact that some Labour functionary or other thought it would be a good wheeze to threaten, of all people, Saviour Balzan if he carried on publishing the poll shows that the MLP machine is worried and, forsooth, so it should be. The party in government, months before an election, having been in government for so long, should be losing points the way I lost my hair all those years ago.

Instead, it's picking points up. And that's before the budget.

Northern nourishment

Well, it seems that my cryptic clues last week went down a treat, with both the name of the place (Il-Kantra) and its location ("fuq ir-rih ta' Mgarr ix-Xini") being identified sufficiently to free me from the vow of silence imposed on me.

Now, for the sake of completeness, could someone tell me what a Kantra is, for heaven's sake?

We came across a couple of good places last weekend, while we're on the subject of nourishment. On the road to Xlendi, open since only days ago, is a place called Ping's (I hope I remembered the name right) where we had an excellent Chinese lunch on a terrace with a superb view.

And after watching Goya's Ghosts (don't, if you're squeamish) we needed sustenance and were provided with a fine array of tapas at Pawlu's, down in the depths of Mgarr. You need to hang a pretty sharp left when you get down the hill just before the ferry terminal but they'll feed you till late, or till the chef decides that he's tired. We were there at midnight or so, so apparently he's got more stamina than us, which isn't saying much, really.

And, just to close with some whimsy, why is it that 65 members of Parliament, a significant number of whom have a driver anyway, need 200-odd parking places on the Palace Square? Answers in one or two lines please, with the best getting a mention.

imbocca@gmail.com