A little wet behind the ears

No official engagements for me, the Parliamentary Secretary for Fooling Some of the People Some of the Time, so I'm enjoying a long lie-in with my bride Angelika.

Until at 8.07 a.m. my mobile rings. It's the new party general sec, who tells me the secretary of my local kazin is about to retire and, since my minister is busy; would I go down to the kazin to make the speech at his retirement presentation at 10 a.m?

Then, just as I'm settling in for at least another half hour's laze in bed, the insistent ringing of my front doorbell takes me downstairs, to be confronted by Mrs Apap Grima from two doors down. She indignantly demands to know why her rubbish wasn't collected yesterday.

God I love politics. It's so involving!

Monday

With the summer recess over, all we politicians are back at work; and I am back in my cupboard under the stairs at the Ministry for Obfuscation.

This morning I'm visited by a chap I sometimes play squash with from the British High Commission. He takes one look at my 'office' and says: "Gosh, I'm so sorry, I know Malta's small, but surely they could have found you something a little bigger than this. We used to wall priests up in holes bigger than this during the Reformation." Thanks for that, it makes me feel so much better.

Tuesday

My birthday: So I plan to take Angelika out to dinner - somewhere smart and where I'll get a massive discount. I am thrilled with her present to me of a case of vintage claret. I'm less excited about the mother-in-law's gift. She thoughtfully and subtly presents me with a gift-wrapped book of boys' and girls' names. I wonder why?

Wednesday

Today to have it out with the perm sec at my ministry about my Lilliputian office. I confront him in his extensive and air-conditioned office suite and demand to know how I can be expected to deal with affairs of state and meet important political players in a room the size of a bijou broom cupboard. He smirks, then replies: "I don't think you have to worry about that old man. We'd never let you loose on anyone too important." I am speechless...

Thursday

A particularly awkward parliamentary question (PQ) lands on my desk. It is from my opposite number on the opposition benches. So I summon my top civil servants to solve the dilemma. However, after much deliberation and the inevitable plethora of civil servant's treble-speak, they tell me it's not their field and I'm on my own with this one. No, sorry. Can it really be that difficult to work out just how much my minister has claimed in personal expenses since the election in March?

Friday

In preparation for Notte Bianca, I am obliged to visit all the sites within Valletta where events and suchlike are to be held. I sort of cruise through my visits to our centres of culture, just grunting occasionally, to pretend I understand what's going on. But I am rather taken with the prospect of female mud wrestling on the Main Guard. Way to go! Now that really is my idea of culture.

Saturday

This newish leader of the opposition chap seems a decent enough fellow.

Not met him before, but this evening I get nailed by him at a reception in the Grand Hotel Costapacket for Guantanamo's national day or something.

He saunters over to me and lavishes praise on my aftershave, which was a gift from Angelika and I know was mega expensive.

He then tells me he gets on frightfully well with Gonzi/Malta and sees no reason why he and I shouldn't also hit it off big time.

Then he asks me a few innocent enough questions about policy and stuff like that. In the background, I see Gonzi/Malta jumping up and down, glaring at me and shaking his head.

But if he gets on so well with this newish leader chappy, I'm sure he won't mind if I confide in him, or not?