You'll forgive me for misquoting Lady Liberty, I'm sure. It's not as if the Lil'Elves and Peculiar Pundits have the wherewithal to contradict me, anyway.

The news that just trickled out, unsurprising as it was, that Joseph Muscat would retain Pullicino Orlando in his position as Chair of the MCST, if the latter were to be gracious enough to want to continue to serve, simply brought an image to mind.

In my mind's eye, I pictured Joseph Muscat, in his breaks from being stupidly sarcastic about blocks of ice and trying to divert attention from his Deputy's apparent cover-up of drug dealing on the premises of a Labour Party Club, standing imperiously on the balcony of Movement Palace, extending his arms in a proffered embrace to all PN departees, promising them all manner of goodies if they switched their fealty to him.

The writing had been long on the wall, of course. Labour under Muscat has long and dutifully lionised anyone who had a beef with their own party.

John Dalli, holed up in Brussels too ill to travel to Malta but, happily, in rude enough health to despatch missives from his legal beagles seeking to overturn his own resignation, was a star guest on many a One TV show, bitchin' and moanin' about how he was unjustly detained in the equivalent of a deep dungeon, while wearing the finery of an EU Commissioner.

Even more ubiquitous on One TV was that Ghaxaq lawyer, who never eschewed a single opportunity to vent his spleen, and much else besides, on his Prime Minister and his party, while retaining the retainer paid to him to perform duties which remain far from clear both as to the extent of their performance and their value.

We had others on the red-tinged channel, such as M&M (work it out for yourselves) who professed themselves Nationalists but sounded quite the opposite.

All of these, and others who have crawled out of the woodwork since the campaign started, were initially perceived as being potential switch-hitters for no particular reason, for all that the more cynical amongst us were somewhat sceptical about whether they were in out of conviction rather than self-interest. Sometimes, in fact, possible convictions - in the criminal law sense - made some people rush to the safe haven for their type that Labour seems to represent.

The first less than subtle crack in the edifice appeared during an appearance by one Kenneth Zammit Tabona on, I believe it was, Norman Hamilton's show, when he let slip a remark that was telling. Discoursing on the idea that Muscat had run up the flag-pole about using our tax money to drip-feed needy artists, Zammit Tabona made it clear that he would be more than slightly miffed if, when push came to shove, he would be deprived of his share of the stash because he would be considered to be not exactly a starving artist. I'm sure he has an explanation for this remark, but he's taken himself off Facebook, perhaps because his many friends may have been less than complimentary towards him, a novel experience I'm sure, so we're not likely to get it.

Now Muscat has made the whole thing crystal clear, by telling us that Pullicino Orlando, reviled not much more than five years ago, is one who he, Muscat, will now trust and leave in place, to boot.

Who does Muscat think he is trying to kid, seriously? Doesn't he get it, that you are judged by the company you keep? Is he really oblivious of the clarity of his message: turn on your friends, preferably on One TV, and you will be welcomed with open arms, even if you have motives that are becoming less pristine as the minutes pass?

And what of Labour diehards who believe they have the credentials to take up the positions of trust that will automatically, and quite expectedly, come up for filling if there is a change in Government? What are they to make of people like Pullicino Orlando, whose qualifications might well be seen, at least by them, as inferior to theirs, both in quality and in quantity, being thanked for their efforts in shoring up Muscat's ambition to hop, skip and caper up the steps to Castille?

They might well say that it turns out that Malta isn't, really, theirs at all but simply in Muscat's gift, though like Francis Urquhart, I really couldn't comment.