It is moderately amusing how Jason Micallef is giving voice to the concerns of many of Labour’s lil’elves and steely soldiers. Photo: Jason BorgI’m writing this before Italy meet Uruguay on Tuesday, so I’ve no idea whether they squeezed a draw out of the match and got themselves through to the KO stage. I always find myself on the horns of a dilemma when Italy are involved: given that the team that interests me, mainly for historic reasons (1966 & All That, which is as ‘today’ as 1066 & All That for most people) generally gets dumped out of most competitions before the half-way stage, I tend to prefer Italy getting through so I can have some fun teasing its supporters.
On the other hand, schadenfreude is such a warm and fuzzy feeling that one tends to enjoy it so much that the quicker you can savour it, the better, sometimes. Which is why, when Costa Rica went into the lead, effectively making sure that England don’t disgrace themselves again in this World Cup by limping through to get whipped in the first KO round, my Facebook status was a bit Vickie Pollard (“Yes but no but yes but…”).
But, on balance, I hope they get through and I get to watch them in the final in the company of the sort of people for whom Italy winning is the be-all and end-all of their existence, to the extent that, for some inexplicable reason, they turn into sons and daughters of Manzoni and litter the ether with expletives and exhortations in Italian.
And that they lose.
But there is life outside football and the political world carries on turning, even if it seems that many people don’t give tinker’s cuss that this is the case and that their lives are affected by it. I keep hearing comments about political ennui and the great unwashed preferring softer options than having to think about the foibles and idiocies of our honourable representatives, or being critical about the antics of the great high panjandra (plural of panjandrums) who infest the Cabinet, even while they are sat on, to all intents and purposes, by the Prime Minister, who seems to have decided that the message is one and it only comes out of Castille.
These people want their rewards and they want them now
I mean, we have the largest Cabinet in recorded history and most of its members are conspicuous only by their stoic silence. A quick roll call will remind you: Deputy Prime Minister Louis Grech, Finance Minister Edward Scicluna, Foreign Minister George Vella, Minister for Whatever He Is Leo Brincat, are you still there? And those are only the ones who I remember, the rest are nowhere to be heard or seen, even in the context of a media world that – especially in summer – finds press releases to be a very convenient way to fill the acres of space that present themselves every morning.
That being as it may be, the chairman of the Labour Party’s television station, Jason Micallef, who also heads the Valletta 2018 Foundation, was reported to have accused PBS chief executive Anton Attard of prostituting himself to “metaphorically steal talent and productions from One (TV), no matter what”.
There’s so much wrong with that statement that I hardly know where to start.
I mean, talent? One (TV)? Seriously? Have you watched your own station, Micallef? Oh, beg pardon, your idea of culture was brought into sharp relief a few months ago when you put on record that for you, literature consists in the works of one A. Ferguson and theatrical brilliance resides in the village pageant, so perhaps you do watch Super One, after all.
Which is presumably why the Valletta 2018 Foundation, charged if you will recall, with ensuring that Valletta and the rest of the country give a good account of themselves as a 2018 European City of Culture, headed by Micallef, thinks that a kiddies’ football tournament in 2014 is a fitting component of the V-18 formula, as is sticking a few potted plants on the Palace Square for a weekend.
It’s interesting, getting back to Micallef’s statement, that he stridently accuses the CEO of PBS, which everyone else who matters sees as Super One reprised, of poaching individuals and productions from Super One, when it is common knowledge that most people are gasping to get themselves into PBS.
In fact, everyone except Micallef (on the Labour side, I mean) seems to be more than happy that PBS has hoovered up so many bright young sparks from Super One.
I am morally convinced, and it is my opinion, and I suspect on the evidence (the evidence being that Micallef himself necessarily implies it in the wording of his rant) and it would seem to be the case, that what is annoying Micallef is not the fact that many assets that were at the hands of Super One have found themselves at the disposal of PBS.
Nope, with the caveats of the previous paragraph in operation (it’s too warm to have a libel writ prepared, so I’m being nice to Micallef’s legal team here) it is the fact that Attard, up to March 13, 2013 generally depicted with a target on his back by the Labour media, still runs PBS that has so raised Micallef’s dander.
In this regard, it is moderately amusing how Micallef is giving voice to the concerns – an inadequate word, ‘foaming at the mouth rage’ would probably be more appropriate – of many of Labour’s lil’elves and steely soldiers.
These people, whose political horizon is bounded by the underlying construct that ‘now it is quite obviously our (actually, my) turn’, find themselves feeling betrayed when they see that people who they used to be told to despise in the past are still firmly in the public eye, being paid by public funds or given public facilities to ply their trade.
That these (very few) individuals are quite clearly only part of Joseph Muscat’s transparent marketing ploy to keep alive the joke he had played on the electorate about ‘meritocracy’ and ‘even if you’re not with us, you can work with us’ (the punchline being ‘Malta for All, you must mean All Malta for Us’) is lost on the adherents to Micallef’s philosophy. For these folk, the day of freedom and of bread has dawned and, for the last time, the call to arms was supposed to have been sounded.
With only a small amount of fantasy, you can imagine these people bursting into a chorus of Tomorrow Belongs to Me (Cabaret 1972), though without the strutting and straight-arming that accompanied the performance in Liza Minelli’s movie, on March 14.
In other words, like Micallef, and you can see this in their comments and on their Facebook pages, if you can get beyond the incoherence of their language and their abysmal spelling and grammar, these people want their rewards.
And they want them now.
Very often, they can only expect advancement this way because they are eminently unqualified for it for other reasons. These deficiencies have not impeded the meteoric rise of so many; it’s the few visible ones that mortally annoy the Micallefites.
Only one recommendation for nourishment purposes this week, but it’s a good one. We met at Ġużé in Ta’ Xbiex for dinner on a cool and pleasant Friday night. This estimable establishment provides nourishment to the boat people who operate out of the Royal Malta Yacht Club, lucky them, but it also has its own restaurant behind the club.
It’s something of a pity that the architectural arrangements mean that diners at Ġużé are restricted to the lower level of the terraces, so you only get a roof-line view of Valletta, rather than the whole, gorgeous, harbour shebang. We were consoled, at least those of us who were facing the right way, by the fact that the yacthies were having a tango night.
Dancing the tango involves assorted ladies with remarkable attributes in length and tone of leg winding themselves sinuously around the gentleman of the partnership, to the extent that you’re tempted to ask if he’s Polish (work it out).
A good time was had by all.
imbocca@gmail.com
http://www.timesofmalta.com/articles/author/20