But what do you expect?

Sometimes I am left shaking my head in mild bemusement at people's expectations. This week, I'm going to have a quick run through some of the causes of the more pronounced gyratory manoeuvres of the Beck bonce, clean-shaven exemplar of almost Da Vincian beauty that it is.

A couple of weeks ago, too late for honourable mention in last week's edition of my weekly ramblings, the owner or operator of the Magic Kiosk in Sliema had a jolly good moan and groan because the government, that nasty manifestation of human endeavour, had given him notice to, not to put too fine a point on it, remove that carbuncle of a construction from the square it has polluted since time immemorial. Or since Sant, Lorry of that ilk, had handed it over to him, which is virtually the same thing.

Now, far would it be from me to gainsay any possessor of property from trying to hang on to his gains, ill- or sort-of-ill- or whatever gotten that they may be, but for the sake of all that's glorious, precisely what did this gentleman expect the government to do? The way I hear it, his lease, such as it was, ran out some four years ago and he's been occupying public land on mere tolerance since then.

Frankly, if it were up to me, that hideous clump of aluminium should have been put to the metaphorical torch many, many years ago, but these things take time. But now that the dear fellow's enjoyment of my land and yours has come to an end, wouldn't it be less obnoxious of him just to shut up and thank his stars that he's had such a jolly free ride for all these years?

And then we come to the crypto racists who seem to delight in chuntering on and on about how it's high time the minister did something about all these ruddy immigrants who are flooding in to the country on a daily basis.

Yes, fine, it's all very true that we can't keep accepting immigrants indefinitely: There's a finite amount of Malta and eventually our resources will be stretched beyond limits and it's way past about time the EU woke up to its responsibilities and fronted up (instead of Frontexing about) some real help.

But, in the meantime, realistically, precisely what does anyone expect the minister, nebulous concept that that is anyway, to do? Imitate Canute (and Pedants-R-Us needn't write in to tell me that that wasn't what Canute did) and stand on the foreshore waving them away ineffectually? Substitute his wave for a brace of AK-47s, as Lowellian loonies want? Let the poor souls drown? What?

Moving swiftly on, as the word count approaches the magic number that tells me it's time to wrap this up, we come to the dear chaps on the opposition benches, though they're not really there at the moment, since they're all off taking their well-earned rest from contributing to global warming.

A crack that caught my eye came from I remember not whom (or should that be who? Pedants-R-Us come on down) pontificating, as one does, on what a disgrace it was that the government had not cracked down on the price of medicines.

Again, what the heck is the government supposed to be doing about the price of anything? Has it escaped the notice of the spokesmen from the opposition that this is a free market economy and, anyway, prices are dictated to us from abroad? I'm not saying that if there's abuse it shouldn't be stamped on, whoever it is who abuses, but simply pandering to the coffee-morning classes, who will scream approbation and swoon in admiration because some MLP big-wig has trumpeted like a bull elephant in heat about the price of something or other, is simply not on.

Did you notice how cracks, ever so small but ever so apparent, are appearing in the façade that used to be Ryanair? The marketing and fill-the-seats guru seems to be getting his come-uppance, having to cancel flights and put the dampers on whole routes, because they're not profitable any more.

Well, that's hardly surprising, is it? What can you expect when you undercut so wildly that you end up almost paying people to take your flights? What price €2.35 per flight now, ay?

And to end on a happy note, last Friday we spent a really enjoyable evening at the Bridge Bar on the Eastern side of Valletta (like you didn't know where it is). A jazz quartet was having a bit of a jam and they were more than slightly good - in fact they were excellent, as if they'd played together for years. In fact, they'd played together not a single minute before they met there, I'm told.

imbocca@gmail.com, www.timesofmalta.com/blogs