Sunday, 22nd June 2008
Seeing Red and redheads
To say that I have thus far resisted the temptation to write about Labour and the leadership would be a lie. It was never really a temptation of mine and, if it were, I would certainly have yielded to it.
I am not really one for resisting temptation. But although in the run-up to the June leadership election, I was frequently urged to write about this, that and the other, I was never really interested.
And when you write about things that don't interest you, it's never a good idea. Which is why I'd sooner write about 'Sex and the City' than about 'Smart City.' It's also the reason why I wasn't in a hurry to write about Joseph et al. Besides everyone else seemed enamoured by the subject and for the last three months our newspapers have talked about little else.
What was interesting to me, however, was the way people talked about Joseph Muscat. The general complaint registered by those who were asked to comment about him or who chose to write about him (or to write him off) was that he was far too smug and self-assured. People seemed to be turned off by what they perceived was a guy who was just a tad too big for his breeches, coupled with that smile, that 'let- the-little-children-come-to-me meets Dr John benevolence'. The truth is that people are as sceptical about self-assurance as they are about self-doubt. And sadly nobody really trusts someone who is that nice. Everyone is always waiting for that knife in the back!
Had I been asked what I thought about Muscat in some vox pop, I wouldn't have been very enlightening. I am exactly the same age as Muscat and I would probably have said that I still consider myself young enough to believe that anybody who could potentially become the prime minister should be at least 20 years older than I am. You see in some deluded, Peter Pannish recess of my mind I'm still wondering what I want to become when I grow up.
But this is not about me. This is about Hail Joseph. And my first encounter with Muscat was right here on my bed a couple of weeks ago when I turned on the TV and the second time was a few days later, on Xarabank, when a red headed woman in the audience decided to dazzle us with her views on Malta and le divorce.
She spoke about Malta as if she had just landed here after falling off the back of the turnip truck or the banana boat fresh out of Shangri la.
I wonder whether she realises that she is living on an island, which despite its miniscule size, was recently singled out among 41 other countries as having the highest incidence of single parent families.
I'm still reeling in fact, I am wondering whether she was deliberately planted there or whether people who are capable of taking themselves that seriously when spouting such banalities actually exist. But I suspect they do. I find that it's always the case. Muscat handled her expertly. He put red riding head right in her insular place. And I have to say he had me there and then.
So, yes, while I can't say I have followed him throughout his career so far, the little I have seen recently I like. It seems to me the guy can definitely hold his own. He's comfortable in his skin and he answers questions head on, without flinching, without hiding behind religion, the Constitution or the rest of his party. I like that. I find it refreshing. And there was an ease with which he spoke. He was jocular and tongue in cheek. OK, maybe he does fancy himself a little bit, but so what?
There were no misgivings either way. When he was asked about gay marriages he knew his reply wasn't going to score him any points with the gay community, but he did not cower or candy coat his answers. And I liked that too. He seems to have a lot going for him. He may do well to stop trying to heal the world, but other than that I look forward to the next five years. If he keeps this up lots of people may see red quicker than we may think.
Speaking of reds and redheads, the thing that infuriated me the most was the way the divorce argument deteriorated into an abortion one. The perennial problem - the absurd assumption that if divorce somehow makes it to the statute books we'll have a Cider House situation on our hands! It's one of those non sequiturs which really baffles me.
Very soon we'll hear that if divorce gets in, we'll have a Green Mile situation on our hands with half the CCF on death row.
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