This longer than usual span between one blog and the other was caused by a short break a bit further West by North, that is to say in Tunisia, where Internet access, especially since they use AZERTY keyboards is not exactly snappy. Those flipping keyboards are a real bind to use, and it took me a couple of minutes on one to decide that the game wasn't worth the candle. Sometimes I wonder if the darn thing is a Francophone plot to rule the world, though if it is, it's a pretty stupid one, given that you have to be able to communicate to be able to do that.

Rule the world, I mean.

While I was away, my colleague in blogging and column writing has had a bit of a dig at the Chamber of Advocates, of which I am currently President in my real life. A quick straw poll of the Committee concluded that there shouldn't be any response, which is a manifestation of the truth of the adage about what is the greater part of valour. It's not exactly a brilliant idea to engage in debate with columnists/bloggers, who have virtually unlimited amounts of space (and time) within which to concoct ripostes and put-downs. And anyway, that which irked DCG was merely a technical point being made to the Executive in a particular context, so it wasn't a subject to merit cross-fire with a lay person.

Which is not to say that in my personal capacity, I'm not moved to make a point of my own in response to DCG's characterisation of the Chamber as the perennial exponent of the "let's not rock the boat" school of thought. The thing is, we expressed a sentiment that was - to a degree - critical of the Government. It was not a great criticism, it is true, but it was a criticism and if that is not rocking the boat" (albeit very gently) what is it?

Damned if we do and damned if we don't, it seems, because in the very same breath with which DCG tut-tutted at us for appearing to object (which we weren't - we just wanted clarification) she also tut-tutted us for not wanting to rock the boat.

It's all beginning to sound a bit Don Camilloish, with Peppone screaming at the Mayor from the village square before remembering that he's the Mayor and rushing off to accept the plaudits of the throng.

I'm all for the cops (and everyone else in authority, for that matter) being kept locked in the beady stare of inquisitive folk, officially appointed or otherwise, as DCG also wants but, and I'll shut up at this point about this, where do we stop?

Should we have a third Board of Inquiry appointed to oversee Judge Manche's inquiry and then should someone else check out what the third BoI is doing?

But I suspect you get my point.

SHORT HOP

On the short hop from Tunes to Luqa, you don't get the chance to do much more than scan the papers. I got a couple of headlines which gave me some ammo for this blog.

For instance, reading that the US State Department sees Malta as a potential terrorism staging post, I was moved to compose a few lines in my head, for jotting down here. Instead of mouthing platitudes, wouldn't it be more useful for the US State Department to direct its not insubstantial resources to analysing precisely why anywhere where refugees are gathered is a potential flashpoint? Perhaps dedicating some funding towards humanitarian aid, instead of giving everyone the impression that blowing Muslims to hell and back is the be-all and end-all of American foreign policy might get us somewhere.

On to more important things: Malta's Eurovision entry is destined, according to the bookies, to bomb. I don't know about you, but the prospect fills me with dread.

Not the dread associated with seeing my country humiliated and the flag spat upon but the awful ennui that creeps up on me when an utterly pointless and irrelevant horse is flogged to death and back. We're now going to have calls for Chairs of the Malta Song Board (or whatever it's called) to resign, for Norman Hamilton (to whose expertise in matters populist I bow) to be given the reins and for Grace Borg to be crowned Queen for Life of the music industry.

Forgive me while I shudder.

IS IT ONLY ME?

Is it just me, or does anyone else think that Labour's Little Elves (the Laivieras and the Buttigiegs of this world, just to take some random examples) are living in a different universe? Reading their contributions in the comments sections of this site and on the various blogs, to say nothing of their Letters to the Editor, you'd think that Labour had thrashed PN and was only being denied the right to impose its will on us plebs by a fascist conspiracy of column writers and property developers.

This peculiar frame of mind is, quite understandably, fuelled by the MLP itself.

Thus we get strident demands for Pullicino Orlando to shut up and suffer the slings and arrows of his outrageous fortune (at least, from his point of view its outrageous, anyway) without daring to react, for the Government to ask the Opposition's permission before doing anything and for the populace at large to rise up and salute the MLP as the one and only true saviour of the people.

Come on, guys, get real, why don't you? You lost the election and, if you're honest with yourselves, you know why. Now just concentrate on getting ready for the next one, in five years' time, and stop shooting yourselves in the foot with every pronouncement.

The really rich one, a position that is breathtaking in its simulated naivety, is the spluttering that greeted Gordon Pisani's appointment as the Government's communications guru. Shock, horror, the Government appointed someone it trusts to communicate its policies to the world at large.

What amazing effrontery - Tony Blair, a great hero of the (so-called) Left in Malta would never have committed such a heinous crime. Wait, but he did - Peter Mandelson and Alistair Campbell, to name but two appointees of his Blairship.

What do the MLP spinners, an amateurish bunch if ever there was one (given the result of their spins, you can hardly call them pros) expect: that Manwel Cuschieri is made the PM's spokesman or something?