I am not a happy bunny, not a happy bunny at all. I mean, let’s face it, I am... or rather was... the obvious choice to succeed little tubby Manuel, or as the elves in the glass menagerie have named him: Tweedledum, when/if he got the push.

Of course, I didn’t actually tell our charismatic and lovable leader that I wanted Tweedledum’s job, but I let drop a multitude of hints. And no way is Jo-zeff usually that slow on the uptake.

Those subtle tweets from my alter-ego Malta Tagħna Lkoll, all those likes I received on my Facebook page. And as my mother proclaimed – loudly – in Lidl last weekend: “For crying out loud! The boy is gagging for the job!”

Surely some of that should have got through. Not that the rejection will cause me to waver in my total and complete devotion to both the party and to Jo-zeff; absolutely not! My loyalty is nailed down and certain... at least for the time being.

But nevertheless I am still smarting from the snub. Is it my aftershave, is it my suits, or my trendy Mohican combover haircut? I need to know.

And in a similar vein – I see the Opposition ‘gutter’ media have got the poor old minister for Gozo in their sights.

Politicians are supposed to make rash promises, it’s what we’re here for

For goodness sake! Give the poor old boy a break. I mean... he may not be the brightest kid on the block, but he deserves to be given a sporting chance to screw up – or not.

On the other hand, just in case Jo-zeff is looking to dump him, I would modestly like to champion my own suitability for the Gozo portfolio. I know the ins and outs of our sister island like few others. To prove it... I have taken the same farmhouse in Għasri over the Easter weekend for all of the last two years in a row, so I am well versed in all things Għawdxin... hint, hint.

Another of our ministers recently under unfair attack from u-know-who... is Kon the con. And now I see he’s making more rash promises about when we can expect to get hooked-up to gas-powered electricity, so what’s wrong with that?

Politicians are supposed to make rash promises, it’s what we’re here for. Nobody says we have to deliver on them. X’affarijiet dawn!

To those of you who missed my sparkling presence in this year’s edition of L-Istrina I have this to say: If you think I enjoyed being shunted round the Guardamangia marquee in a pram last year you’d be very much mistaken...

It was bloody uncomfortable and I nearly swallowed my dummy twice!

Look, I’m all for doing my bit for charity, but there are limits. This year I simply stuck a cheque in the post, u daqsekk!

So finally to matters of a lighter nature: namely my appearance at Ta’ Qali in the annual MPs versus the media football match. And oh what a splendid occasion it turned out to be.

And here I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who turned up to watch me play. Sadly – as you’ll have seen – my participation in the game was limited to just two minutes and 14 seconds actually on the field before unfortunately I sustained a somewhat debilitating injury and had to be substituted.

It may not have looked like a serious injury to those watching, but I can assure you a broken fingernail is no laughing matter... particularly a fractured fingernail on the third finger of my right hand.

It really teed me off not to be able to help my parliamentary colleagues in their efforts to try to stuff it right up the gutter press. But, as my personal nail technician said later: “One’s health has to come first.”

Sorry lads, but there’s always next year.

Comments:

The spirit of GBO writes:

Did we win independence in 1964 for this?

Better Red than Blue writes:

Here’s to the next 10 years of Malta Tagħna Lkoll ma’ Jo-zeff.