I wonder what the self-proclaimed political junkie and satirist, Armando Iannucci, would make of our current political joke. Iannucci, acclaimed ‘hardman of political satire’ is the creator of the British political hit comedy The Thick Of It (a modern day Yes Minister meets West Wing), which targets the inner workings of the British government.

Labour was looking for a political victory and it got it by ousting the PN’s Ace, whose unpopularity is rooted in his competence, not incompetence. It’s a short-term victory though- Michela Spiteri

Set in a fictitious government department, the show is a scabrously brilliant portrayal of a number of loathsome MPs and advisers, most prominently the obnoxious and abrasive Malcolm Tucker.

Tucker is the ‘Prime-Minister’s all-seeing, all-swearing eye’ responsible for the show’s unabashed, uncensored and unbelievably funny one-linersor ‘Tuckerisms‘ which are apparently reason enough to tune into the show.

I came across one the other day which was so close to home and to our current Parliamentary tomfoolery , I wrote it down. Some of it would be unprintable here, so I’ll leave out the obscenities but share it with you anyway.

“You’re so backbench, you’ve actually... fallen off. You’re out by the... bins...”

I had to do a double-take to make sure it wasn’t Richard Cachia Caruana talking about one of the many errant PN’s backbenchers. What makes the line even better is that the character of Tucker is actually thought to be based on Alastair Campbell, who served as Director of Communications and Strategy for Prime Minister Tony Blair between 1997 and 2003. Campbell, political aide, communicator and writer was otherwise known as Labour’s ‘unelected,but ... hardly under-scrutinised spin-doctor’.

If it sounds very parallel-universe-like, too close to home and uncomfortably familiar it’s precisely because it is. The unelected chief spin doctor who degrades hapless, intellectually inferior ministers, the fallen-from-grace backbenchers, the feckless self-serving MPs who will do everything to hold onto power, even at the expense of their sanity and dignity. It’s straight out of Castille,Dar Malta, Palace Square and wherever else these mortals strut their stuff.

I was on the verge of sleep when I heard that Cachia Caruana had handed in his resignation. And as I drifted off, I tried to remember the words to the song Eliza Doolittle sings to Henry Higgins in the musical My Fair Lady. And I found myself wondering what would happen next – whether the sun would still rise, whether the earth would continue to spin, whether Castille and Dar Malta would be there, year after year, and whether there’d be holes in our roads without him.

You see, Lawrence Gonzi would have us believe that Maltese families are now endangered and life as we once knew it, is over. I have to say, I was rather disappointed at his reaction. He’s usually a much cooler customer. He seemed to have lost his balance over this one. Even Libya hadn’t ruffled his feathers quite as much.

Let me make myself clear – I am not remotely happy to see Cachia Caruana go. Why would I be? For one, I don’t do schadenfreude very well at all. I’ve never been a misery mongrel and don’t thrive on others’ misfortunes. Even when it comes to people with whom I share no love lost, when the chips are down and adversary strikes, any ill-feeling I may have previously harboured immediately evaporates.

In this case, there was neither ill-feeling nor love to speak of, and certainly no love lost. I did meet Cachia Caruana once, briefly – not enough time to form any sort of opinion about him. And yet, I suppose, when it comes to him, if I’m to be honest it’s largely impossible not to have some sort of hand-me-down, inherited opinion or ‘notion’ about the man.

You’re as brilliant as you think you are, or more accurately, as other people think you are. And Cachia Caruana is perhaps Malta’s most publicly perceived man.

Reputedly all seeing, all knowing and all powerful, he apparently calls the shots, plays chess with all of our lives and is a magus of sorts. If you are to believe everything you hear, he has a finger in every pie.

He was responsible for Eddie Fenech Adami’s best speeches and suits and gets to decide which judge makes it to the European Court of Justice and what the PN slogans say and their billboards look like.

I have no hesitation in saying that I rather liked Cachia Caruana for the half-hour or so that I met him. To say that it came as a surprise to me would be a lie. I have a predilection towards individuals other people have decided I should not like. So the balance was always going to be tipped in his favour as far as I was concerned.

But yes, he definitely possesses a winning aura. I came away from the meeting confident that here was a man who has that rare ability to make you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Even when it clearly isn’t going to be. Ironically, he makes you feel like he’s got your back. Which is evidently why he is relied on so heavily and why Gonzi suddenly looks like he’s just lost a limb. The PN need him more than he needs them.

I understand the hype. Why people who work with him have this love-hate quasi Stockholm syndrome relationship with him. If Cachia Caruana has a superiority complex, it’s because he is superior. He is probably all the other things too – abrasive, arrogant, divisive, scathing the most undiplomatic of diplomats – but that is neither here nor there.

Labour was looking for a political victory and it got it by ousting the PN’s Ace, whose unpopularity is rooted in his competence, not incompetence. It’s a short-term victory though, and we all know that Cachia Caruana is not going anywhere.

Removing him is not unlike shaving actually. The hairs always grow back, stronger and more rooted than ever before.

michelaspiteri@gmail.com