Watch out: Man overboard

I have no interest, prurient or otherwise, in what Cyrus Engerer had in his computer or elsewhere, in what he did with it or who to or in anything else to do with his private life. I have little interest in his public life, for that matter, now that he has demonstrated beyond reasonable doubt that his suitability for a political career is, to say the least, debatable. The question whether he has committed any crimes or not is something for the courts to sort out and, frankly, the less I hear about it, the happier I will be.

Equally, whether or not Mr Engerer senior has fallen foul of the criminal law is entirely a question for him to answer, though instinctively, I have more than a little sympathy for people who hark me back to the times of peace, love and hippiedom.

The fact remains, however, that Mr Engerer junior was interviewed about his, to put it delicately, foibles by Malta’s finest quite a few days before he pulled his neck-wrenching u-turn from Nationalist Party loyalist to Labour BBF, which fact rather tends to mute the conspiracy theorists’ screeches of “vengeful GonziPN frame-up”.

Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr Engerer was in trouble with the cops way before anyone had any idea that his protestations of loyalty to the PN were as empty as It-Torċa’s claim that Muammar Gaddafi had lobbed a scud in our general direction. So there’s no way, except in the fevered imaginations of those who measure everything by their own yardstick (that is, Labour’s lil’elves) that Mr Engerer’s issues with the law are anything to do with his political musical chairs.

And talking about emptiness, what price Joseph Muscat’s demands that the Prime Minister’s chief of staff resigns? For what reason, pray tell? Because, as the political head of the Prime Minister’s office, on hearing allegations of political machinations, he sought to enquire with the Police Commissioner as to the truth of these allegations? Rubbish, my dear Dr Muscat, rubbish, that is precisely what he ought to have done.

Or is it because, as a good friend of someone (even though by now this someone had demonstrated a distinct lack of political loyalty) who was clearly worried, he sought to enquire about the circumstances?

Anyone would do the same and I’m morally convinced that many of Dr Muscat’s trusted friends and advisers would do exactly the same, as I would if I had occasion to, and that many of them have done just that. Edgar Galea Curmi did not cross any lines, in whatever capacity he called the Police Commissioner, as the Police Commissioner himself made absolutely crystal clear, but this does not prevent Labour’s lil’elves from swooning in horror, although while swooning they seem unable to make up their collective minds what it is about which they are swooning.

Labour will just have to face it: In welcoming Mr Engerer into their fold with such unseemly eagerness, gagging as they are for any new Best Best Friends, they served themselves something of a pig in a poke. Now that they’re lumbered with him, they’re going to have to stick up for him, which fact might not have been a million miles away when Mr Engerer was considering his political options, though I have to be honest and admit that this is simply me being speculative.

And sticking up for Mr Engerer, in these circumstances, has to involve chucking as much mud as possible at everyone possible, as long as the stark political reality is drowned out. When he jumped ship to join Labour, Mr Engerer knew that he had upcoming issues with the criminal law and he had already been interviewed by the police.

If he failed to tell Labour’s grey eminences about this, this was rather naughty of him. On the other hand, if he did and they didn’t think it mattered, it would have been rather amateurish of them because it would have laid them open to charges of accepting anyone to Labour’s fold, as long as there was a political opportunity to be seized.

Just so he doesn’t feel neglected, did you spot Kurt Farrugia’s letter to The Times, whining about how one of the publishing company’s directors was allowed to write opinion pieces? I hold no brief for my old friend Austin Bencini, indeed I disagree with him on many issues, not least of which is the farcical way the divorce question was tackled, but I do object to Mr Farrugia’s blithe assumption that all media organisations work the way his clearly does.

In simple terms: When Dr Bencini expresses an idea, it is his and his alone. Mr Farrugia might work in an environment where the media is controlled by hands unseen but out here, in the real world, this is not the case. Another case of measuring by one’s own yardstick, perhaps? Or maybe being hoist by one’s own petard?

It’s been a heck of a week, in musical terms. The National Philharmonic on Saturday with an excellent Bolero and a brilliant Carmina Burana, one of the gods of the frets on Sunday (Carlos Santana, for anyone who lives under a rock), Tribali on Monday and Xirka Rock on Tuesday (you can check the pics out on my FaceBook page). And there’s still Zucchero to go today.

Rock is, indeed, life and if you think I’m including the classical stuff in the definition wrongly you’re not necessarily right because there’s much to be said for defining the two pieces as rock.

imbocca@gmail.com

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