They sought her here, they sought her there, they sought her everywhere and, hey presto and a hey nonny no, up she popped, smug as a rabbit that’s snagged a year’s supply of carrots, to tell them that they’ve found her.
It is Sai Mizzi Lang or Lang Mizzi or Mrs Dr Shame on You Konrad Mizzi or whatever she would like to be called to whom I refer, who needed only a couple of asses and a few gently wafting palm-fronds last week to complete the almost Biblical return to the scene that she pulled off.
Well, to be honest, it can only be said that she pulled off a worthy scene insofar as the terminally-bewildered and the totally de-dazzled are concerned because the rest of us, the ones that have a couple of critical faculties to rub together, not to mention brain cells, were somewhat less than awestruck at Mizzi Lang’s performance.
She didn’t have much of an act to follow, to be honest, given that the two ministers to whom she theoretically answers, namely Foreign Minister George ‘Ukraine’ Vella and Trade and Commerce Minister Chris ‘Who the flip is Sai?’ Cardona, had been utterly underwhelming in the mastery of their briefs when they failed completely to give even the slightest impression that they knew what the dear lady was doing and where she was doing it.
And how come, pray tell, that her dear hubbie, Minister Konrad ‘You’re not fit for purpose Leader of the Opposition’ Mizzi wasn’t anywhere to be seen while his missus was having her moment of great glory? If it wasn’t for the fact that they are quite obviously two different people, I’d have to wonder whether they’re not one and the same, unable to be seen in the same room for that reason.
This whole pantomime was simply a bit of fluff to justify the dear lady’s hefty price-tag to the Exchequer
Well, silly fantasies apart, it’s all come out in the wash now, to a great fanfare of trumpets and with a panoply of ministers, Premier Joseph among them, if I recall correctly, inaugurating a tiny room in Smart City from whence a Chinese company that has been locally represented (by Intercomp, if you must know) for years and years, will be running some tests on their 5G communications equipment.
They might, just maybe, if things are looking good and with a bit of luck, employ probably not more than one Maltese to head their commercial operations, that’s if they ever have any commercial operations at the end of the testing they’re going to be carrying out. The stupendous amount they will be investing in the country, which, from what I can make out, amounts to the sum total of not very much at all, combines with the derisory levels of employment (maybe one person, if at all) to make people like me, negative nasty Nats who are traitors to the country, wonder what the whole flipping fuss was about.
Fine, the more people who come here to play with their hi-tech toys the better, as long as they’re not hi-tech toys designed to make it easier for Big Brother and Premier Joe to snoop on us (they’ve said they’re not interested, so that’s all right, then) but, please, try not to treat us like people within whose crania only a pea or two rattle around because, although the electorate may look stupid (and act stupid, sometimes), there are limits to the extent to which we can be treated as dumb nuts.
Because, you see, while the company that is going to have its teeny-tiny office in Smart City is an offshoot of a gargantuan one, one that, according to Premier Joseph could pay off Greece’s debt from petty cash (why didn’t he get Sai Mizzi Lang to persuade them to do that little thing, then?) that which is going to be here, on the ground, is simply a minuscule testing (not even research and development) outfit that, once it’s done its testing, will very likely decamp and depart for pastures new.
They certainly won’t be doing their manufacturing here since, given that the price of labour is something on the lines of the price of chips (and I mean the French-fried version) in China, there’s no earthly reason why they should set up shop in any meaningful way and contend with European employment laws and the cost of labour.
Bearing all of the above in mind, we have to surmise, then, that this whole pantomime, which must have bemused no end the Chinese gents who were over to install their typewriters and phones (maybe they might give Mizzi Lang a few pointers here) was simply a bit of fluff to justify the dear lady’s hefty price-tag to the Exchequer.
Perhaps not coincidentally, the little side-show was put on just when eyebrows were being raised at the utter failure on Minister George Vella’s part to give us any information about what it is that Mizzi Lang was paid to do.
Apart from being insolent with his pea-brain crack, all Vella could say was that she wasn’t paid from his ministry and that while he was convinced that she would deliver value, he didn’t have an inkling what this value would be.
If eyebrows could be raised further, they would have been when Vella’s Cabinet colleague, Chris Cardona, went on record to say that Mizzi Lang was doing sterling work out of an office that, while it did not yet aspire to the standards of luxury a consular office must have, was nonetheless sufficient unto the day and he was convinced that we would soon see the fruits of her labour.
And verily, the elephant (in the room) did strain and heave and puff and huff and grunt and groan and, eventually, give birth to a prettily prancing little mouse, whose first words were “peek-a-boo, you’ve found me!”
While all this silliness is going on here, with Labour’s little trolls finding themselves entranced by the dazzling delights of Sai Mizzi Lang’s marvellous achievement in getting China to invest in a broom-cupboard in Smart City, Greece is evolving into living proof that prime ministers who get elected by the dishonest means of promising everything to everyone will eventually find that the flock of chickens they had spawned will be heading home to roost and to do unspeakable other things on the heads of the lying hounds who have proved themselves unable to live up to their rash undertakings.
The morality of the fat cats in the more northern areas of the European Union might be suspect, truth be told, but the moral standing of Greece’s loony lefty and the way he seems to think he can bend the truth so far that it will meet itself coming back from Bermuda (if you’ll forgive a reference to a local parable) is so far down the toilet that he could be used as an object lesson in political dishonesty.
Sorry to disappoint the many fans who start at this end of the column in order to see where they can grab a decent bit to eat (though catering for vegetarians is not a specialty - you know who you are) but there’s nothing really new to report this week. We got cultural nourishment by the lorry-load, thanks to the excellent Victoria International Arts Festival, and a very decent pizza was had at Jubilee at It-Tokk and at The Grapes, on St George’s Square, but this should not come as a surprise to my regular readers.
imbocca@gmail.com
http://www.timesofmalta.com/blogs