• Ah me; lazy summer days on the beach or round the pool. OK for some, but not for me. I am keeping my eyes on the main prize: a seat around the Cabinet table. Which is why I make sure I am most conspicuous when I arrive at my office, well yes, it is more like a cupboard, inside Parliament each morning at 9am.
I know that even if he doesn’t spot me personally, Jo-zeff’s entourage will have someone on duty to monitor the comings and goings in and out of the building. So I doggedly maintain my dedicated politician persona. Oh yes.
• Summer also gives me the opportunity to get up close and personal with my supporters in my district… but not too close, it is sweaty in summer after all.
Last Sunday, for example, my chief canvasser, Dwardu, organised a barbecue in my honour in the yard of my local każin. And – if you can ignore the empty drinks crates, the overflowing dustbins and the steward’s dog’s poo all over the floor – it is quite a congenial space.
And what a triumphant evening it was for yours truly. I was feted like the king I intend to become… or at least a parliamentary secretary. Music was provided by Wenzu’s disco, which was fine until he interrupted my speech with a sudden blast of “I can’t get no satisfaction”. He could have waited for me to finish, I only had another 22 minutes to go.
To return to the nitty gritty of this blog, the greater glory of Jo-zeff. What a man, what a champion, what a statesman!
The event didn’t end until 3am… but this could have had something to do with the fact that they couldn’t get the barbecue to light until after midnight.
No matter, I lost count of the number of my constituents who came up to me and said: “Prosit and grazzi.” Heartwarming stuff… and I’m sure it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the whole event was free.
• For the benefit of the following media, I make a well trailed visit to a retirement home in my district. Although I wonder why I bothered; I mean, most of this lot won’t even be around by the time Jo-zeff calls the next election.
Still, I hand out signed photographs and flyers. But, judging by the state of most of the inmates, the majority of them won’t remember who I am the minute I walk out of the door… in fact, I doubt whether they will even remember who they are.
Oh why do I bother?
• It is a source of continuing amazement to me that, while we are basking in the reflected glow of the finest government this island has ever known, there are still some people, just a few, mind, intent on spoiling the party.
I refer to the recent sniping in the Opposition media at none other than my lovely girlfriend, Doris. Just because she works in a fish-gutting plant in Marsaxlokk, the snipers refer to the constant odour emanating from my beloved, even when she is not on duty.
This is, of course, totally untrue; my sweetheart rarely carries the aroma of her profession home with her – and even when she does, I certainly do not find it in any way offensive. These internet trolls really do need to get a life – several lives.
• But to return to the nitty gritty of this blog, the greater glory of Jo-zeff.
What a man, what a champion, what a statesman! Awesome darlings, just awesome!
We here in little Malta are privileged to be ruled by the benign dictatorship of Jo-zeff and friends.
So sit back and relax, life under our charismatic and loveable leader can only get better and better.
And even if it doesn’t, what’s the alternative?
Yeah right… back to the bad old days of the corrupt Nats. Give me the good new days of the corrupt Laburisti any day… er…
Comments:
Thick as an Irish wafer writes: Tell me Backbencher, what impact do you think Britain’s Brexit will have on the Maltese economy?
Backbencher replies: Brexit… what’s that?