You know what we on the Mile End Road say: “Christmas comes but once a year, and with it Jo-zeff brings the beer.” And a lot more besides, I hear you all say. Yes, fellow MPs, party minions, elves and friends in cyberspace, it is once again that time of year to ease off the pressure of the daily slog and give thanks to our charismatic and loveable leader, for all the bounteous gifts he hath bestowed upon us.

Yes, upon all of us – and not just on Kon the con’s good lady wife – who deserves every penny of the hundreds of grand she’s getting for helping us to suck up to Mao Tse Tung... or whoever is running China at the moment. Because, quite apart from landing the deal that puts billions of euros into Enemalta’s coffers – or it will do once she gets round to sorting it all out, she’s also been instrumental in dotting the i’s and crossing the Ts of our energy policies far into the century... or so Jo-zeff assures us. And who would gainsay him?

And it is at this point that I feel I must try to reassure the populace at large that, yes... Kon the con really does know what he’s doing, or so he assures me. That so-called phantom power station will indeed soon be up and running, providing clean and cheap electricity to every home in the Maltese archipeligo – whatever the doom-mongers may say.

OK, so there’s not a scrap of evidence of it so far, well there’s nothing new in that, is there? I mean... do you remember the reams of b******t Austin and co reeled out when the so-called Smart City was announced. Have you seen it lately, ‘smarting’ city would be a more appropriate epithet. Pathetic; just like the rest of their efforts over nearly a quarter of a century.

Not that I’m implying that our record is totally blameless – only nearly blameless. Sure, we’ve had the odd hiccup along the way. I mean, what are we going to do about little tubby Manwel? Now we see he’s been caught out telling porkies. Oh dear!

I hear we are going to have a big seasonal ‘do’ at the Glass Menagerie on Mile End Road

Of course it’s not the porkies that’s the problem. I mean, we’re politicians, so none of us are unfamiliar with a fib or two. No, it’s the fact that he was caught. Well, all I can say to Jo-zeff is: I’m here, willing and able to give my utmost for my country and myself... but not necessarily in that order. I await the call.

But to get back to, what the ad men call, the festive season. I hear we are going to have a big seasonal ‘do’ at the Glass Menagerie on Mile End Road. Oh won’t it be fun: Grandpa George Vella has promised to dress up as the Krismiss Farthair... if he can remember when Christmas is.

Then cute and excruciatingly charismatic Alfred Zammit will be one of Santa’s elves, and the fairy on top of the Krissy tree will be that horrid little poof from Sliema, whose name escapes me.

And – as with everything that Jo-zeff touches – there will be gifts for everybody... except perhaps little tubby Manwel, who hasn’t really earned one, has he?

Oh yes, and – just to let you know, so you can come and cheer for me: I am in strict training for the annual MPs versus media football match at Ta’ Qali stadium just after Christmas. We shall be playing in red, of course, and I shall be wearing number three... that’s number three, OK?

And no, that bulge in the front of my shirt is not flab... it’s all solid muscle. Oh yes – and if Jo-zeff plays (He hasn’t confirmed yet) he’s asked that if he should score... and who is to say he won’t... nobody – on peril of appearing on L-Istrina – is to kiss him. That’s a privilege reserved for the afore-mentioned little poof from Sliema – and he’s not even in the team. So no puckering-up please.

Comments:

Friend of Eddie writes:

Roll on the next election. Christmas? Bah humbug!

Santa’s Elf writes:

Dream on losers, dream on.

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