I don’t know what it is about certain people when they achieve high office, or when high office is thrust upon them as an afterthought, for that matter, but they seem to lose the means to understand what they’re saying.

Bill Clinton is remembered for his amazingly incredible (as in, not capable of being believed) dictum that he did not have sexual relations with that woman. He also made himself the butt of many a crack when he admitted smoking some weed but not inhaling, though history does not recall whether he sneaked a quick drag after not sleeping with Monica.

I’m reminded of this rather whimsical couple of footnotes to the biography of a powerful man by our own President’s rather naïve admission that, yes, she has been to Polidano’s various entertainment venues but, no, she didn’t go to the illegal bits.

It is worrying that the occupier of the highest position in the land does not get the fact that she is not a common or garden politician anymore and that she gives dignity to people or places by her mere presence, on behalf of all of us, Polidano’s business ventures included, illegal bits and all.

Carrying on with the ‘incredible’ theme, it is astounding that, despite surrounding himself with highly-paid experts in the art of putting on circuses for the great unwashed, Premier Joseph Muscat allowed his exalted image to be used in that now-infamous New Year’s message.

Joseph Muscat needs to get it into his head that he is not supreme leader and his spouse is not either

You know the one I mean, the one that felt longer than War and Peace (the unedited version), that was more fabulous than Evita (come to think of it, maybe he had to outdo someone) and that was about genuine and truthful as Star Wars, the Hansel & Gretel version. The whole thing was a pack of lies from beginning to end and when it wasn’t chock-full of lies, it was overblown and totally out of place.

Of course, a cross section of comments about the cinematic extravaganza reveals precisely why Premier Joe managed to get himself and the spouse the keys to thecastle. Dazzled by the glitz and blind to the content, you had people bleating breathlessly about how slick the piece was and about how they just loved the Kate Bush style orchestra on the wind-blown cliffs.

You really have to wonder whether there isn’t an alternative to democracy when you see these things.

Leaving aside the lies and the propaganda, for which alone whoever was giving artistic advice on this farce should be fired, just where does Premier Joe get off hijacking the national anthem? This bloke needs to get it into his head that he is not supreme leader, and his spouse is not either, for that matter, and the national anthem is not a little ditty he can have played to fanfare him into someone’s flipping tasteless and sterile Married men of Madliena kitchen.

At most, a few bars can be used at the close of a sober and dignified message, not as the soundtrack to Premier Muscat’s Making the most of it bio-pic.

On current evidence, when the Second Republic is finally proclaimed, we’re going to be able to gaze wonderingly on the sight of Premier Joe and his spouse being processed haughtily to the palace on the back of a brace of elephants, decked out in Roi de Soleil splendour while assorted clowns and other minions gambol in front of them to the tunes of Ġensna blaring from the permanent commemorative concert stage that will have been erected in a tent outside Castille.

Don’t cry for me, my Melita, indeed.

There was a thoughtful, as always, piece by Ranier Fsadni in connection with this ludicrous Second Republic notion, where he analysed why Franco Debono should not, by any stretch of the imagination, be anywhere near any discussions about the Constitution.

I am not as fair and reasonable as Fsadni.

Debono should not be anywhere near these discussions (leaving aside the fact that I am seriously worried about having Premier Joe and his bunch of clowns messing with the Constitution in the first place) because he is simply not fit for the job.

Anyone who self-promotes that obsessively, who allows himself to be used as a political pawn the way Premier Joe uses him, who clearly thinks the world revolves around him and the bees in his bonnet and who has demonstrated unequivocally that he has no concept of loyalty to the political structure that had made him in the first place shouldn’t be allowed to play around with the country’s future and there’s an end to it.

A couple of news items caught my eye while gearing up for this week’s effort to annoy people.

For instance, precisely why was Minister Helena Dalli in discussions with the Netherlands Institute of Forensic Laboratories? Since when does she concern herself with issues that are within the purview of another minister, in this case home affairs? Isn’t it enough that she has managed to bring together a coalition of opinion that her meddling in an important quasi-judicial function that is within her scope of interest was inappropriate?

Shouldn’t she try to get her stuff right before sticking her dainty nose into someone else’s business?

And what’s this about Gozo Channel investing in new vessels? I’ve no problem with that, far from it, anything that can improve the already pretty decent service (ignore the whingers) is welcome but aren’t we supposed to be getting a tunnel to speed things up? Or has someone started to prepare the ground for a reversal of that idea?

Shouldn’t we be told or are we going to remain being treated like mushrooms by Premier Joe and his band of bunglers?

It’s well known that this gang can spin anything to their advantage.

Not content with elbowing Albert Fenech out of a role he was fulfilling superbly and without cost to his hundreds of patients, for no apparent good reason (quite an apparent bad one, of course) Premier Joe’s spinners are now trying to turn the fact that he’s involved, in a private and personal capacity, in a health-related venture by means of which people will have to pay for his services into some sort of stick with which to beat the Opposition about the head.

First they kick him out, spiting their own and our faces, and then they use their own spite as an attack dog. What cheap opportunistic political vileness, though, of course, when it comes to cheap vileness, there’s no beating this sorry crew, especially when the health service is involved, which has long been one of Labour’s favourite battlegrounds.

Indeed, don’t cry for me, my Melita, cry for yourself.

Have a good meal to console yourself, it’s better than turning to the bottle or other means to distract yourselves, and try out a couple of places in town, Zero Sei opposite the Manoel Theatre and Trattoria La Veneta (hope I got the name right) in front of the other Valletta icon, St Paul’s church.