(With the government euphoric over its perceived success of its ‘Be PM For A Day’, they decided to do it all again... and guess who won this time?)

The best fun I had all day was chairing a Cabinet meeting

The first thrill was being picked up in the PM’s official car from my home. Oh I did enjoy this bit. All the neighbours were out gawping, as my driver held open the car door for me. But the bit I really enjoyed was giving the neighbours the finger as we pulled away from the kerb... Yessssssssssssssss!

I also got a blast from walking up the steps of Castille, briefcase in hand, trying to look as though I have the cares of the country on my shoulders. And again I was super-impressed with the Prime Minister’s office, now that is the business. I was even shown the chips out of the wall plaster, caused when a certain former PM chucked a few items of Castille crockery around... fascinating.

The itinerary for my day of supreme power was outlined for me by a dear little man called Edgar, who also kindly brought me a coffee and two – yes, two – chocolate digestives (my favourite).

He then left me alone for five minutes to savour just sitting behind the prime ministerial desk and swivelling in his chair. I had a lovely time pressing all the knobs on the two telephones at my disposal, but I was a bit fed up with the fact that the red emergency phone had apparently been removed. You know the one you ring in order to get straight through to Putin or Obama to start the third world war.

There was nothing on the prime ministerial desktop computer to get the juices flowing... nothing interesting, strange that.

The best fun I had all day was chairing a Cabinet meeting. I can’t remember what topics we discussed at Cabinet, (‘at cabinet’ is jargon by the way... all the ministers use it to sound as though important decisions have been taken – ahem.) But I did manage to make one vital intervention. I ordered Edgar to move the plate of biscuits further towards the middle of the cabinet table and out of the reach of George... or there’d have been none left for the rest of us.

Then lunch, taken at my desk as is the form these days. And this was pretty special too, as befits the head of a western democratic nation. Indeed it’s the first and only time I’ve ever been served a pastizz tal-piżelli with a parsley garnish.

My afternoon was as busy as my morning. First off, my schedule was interrupted by the arrival of a rather rough gentleman, a certain Mr Pellicano, who burst into the prime ministerial office clutching a sheaf of papers for me to sign. These were apparently a pile of development applications which – so he informed me – I was obliged to recommend for approval by MEPA.

When Edgar brought in my tea later and I mentioned Mr Pellicano, he replied: “Ah yes, well he is most definitely the biggest developer and contractor in Malta, so he doesn’t need an appointment to see the Prime Mminister.”

But if he is so important and approving his applications is so vital, I would have thought he would have preferred to have them endorsed by the regular premier. But Edgar shook his head and confided: “As far as Mr Pellicano is concerned, he couldn’t care less who the Prime Minister is... as long as he does as he’s told.”

Only one thing detracted from my perfect day. I apparently committed some kind of political faux pas when I enquired casually of Edgar just where was my parliamentary assistant, a certain Dr Debono. Edgar’s reaction was to send me to the PM’s WC (ensuite) to wash my mouth out with soap and water.

My day ended when my official car returned me to my home... more winding up of the neighbours and bed.

You may ask, would I like to be PM permanently? Not a chance, most of it was really boring – and anyway I only entered the lottery to try to win the iPad.