The honeymoon is over

Since the success of his josephmuscat.con electoral campaign, relatively speaking we haven’t seen much of Joseph Muscat. Being a firm believer in the maxim “the less we see of the Government, the better” (and here I don’t mean the Labour government but any government), I have to say that this, in and of itself, is no bad thing; just let the rest of us, out here in the real world, get on with it.

The Prime Minister and his boys and girls are starting to be held accountable

The thing is the same can’t be said of his ministers, many of whom have been going about doing stuff.

I wish they wouldn’t.

Yes, I understand that all new ministers have an urge to do something and, in the vein of most politicians, they subscribe to the theory of “we have to do something, this is something, let’s do it”, failing to measure, measure and measure again before cutting their cloth, but to echo one of my blogs before the election result was known, please don’t break it, it being Malta.

Sadly, if the rumblings from such diverse points of the compass as the EU and the recent MHRA survey are anything to go by, the honeymoon fumbling is resulting not in a passionate climax to a couple of months’ hard slog but to expressions of “oops, that doesn’t seem to be quite right, does it?”

But I’m no economist, so I’ll let my youngers (not many elders left) and betters discourse on matters of high finance for your delectation. I gave Bondì+ a miss, for instance, though reliable sources tell me that Edward Scicluna was left quite a bit worse for wear after Tonio Fenech ripped into him.

That about which I do fancy myself as being able to comment, on the other hand, is a dictum issuing from the lips of the Prime Minister, no less, about how it’s about time we got ourselves a new way of doing politics.

His basic tenet is that the two parties should rein in their media and stop all this nastiness because we’re governing as a movement and, consequently, above politics, being pure and full of goodwill and all of that.

I never actually got it, all this talk about ‘movements’ because whichever way you slice Labour and josephmuscat.con, they’re a political party through an through.

This is no bad thing; political parties, at least outside the borders of the ‘democratic republics’, are not loathsome monsters.

I have put two and two together and come to the conclusion, observational genius that I am, that what Muscat means is not that the media should be reined in but that the media should be prevented from making nasty remarks about his government.

If this were not the case, why would the Prime Minister, mere hours after making his ‘let’s all be nice to each’ other remarks, turn into something of a screeching harridan in the House, forcing the Speaker to give, as one of his first rulings, one that censured him in no uncertain way?

And, seriously, does he have the nerve to suggest this now, after so many years of Labour’s media churning out column-inch and sound-minute by the thousand, all aimed not only at undermining the PN government’s credibility, which is all part of the game, but also the integrity and good standing of anyone who wasn’t critical of the government?

Like any commentator who didn’t, and doesn’t intend to, take up lifetime membership in the ‘Labour is the Best’ glee club, I’ve been, and remain, in the cross hairs myself on many occasions, which hasn’t given me any sleepless nights.

Muscat, coming out with this ‘let’s play nice’ mantra, which is intoned along with its refrain ‘don’t be so negative, you obviously haven’t learnt your lesson’, smacks suspiciously of his being injured by the criticism, having been given such an easy ride by the media on his triumphal gallop up the steps to Castille.

The honeymoon, preceded as it was by a good couple of years of lovey-dovey smooching, is well and truly at an end. The Prime Minister and his boys and girls are starting to be held accountable and it’s making them feel exposed and resentful that anyone dares to think they’re not the best thing since sliced bread and Nutella.

Even some of their formerly breathless admirers - albeit very, very, very cautiously, although those iced buns are slowly running out - are starting to wonder aloud whether it was actually such a good idea to give them a chance and this, understandably, is making them feel a bit miffed.

Such is life, chaps. Banishing mobile phones from your ministerial chambers or making misguided remarks about controlling the media (are you reading, George Vella?) are not going to help, either.

Right, where can I suggest you trot off to, if you want to help dispel the gloom and doom of the MHRA’s finding that restaurants are feeling the pinch?

Try Chukka’s, at Marsa: it was packed last Wednesday and quite rightly. If you’re into having only veggies in you, don’t bother, but if not, the Waygo Rump (don’t hold me to the spelling, it was a bit dark) ranks among the best chunks of protein I’ve ever hoovered down.

The rest of the meal was pretty darn good, as was the service and, I’m told, being as I had to eschew the temptation, that the choccie mousse was also very highly rankable.

When you’re in Gozo, there’s Beppe’s in the Menqa, which I’ve mentioned before but deserves another one.

imbocca@gmail.com

www.timesofmalta.com/articles/author/20