I wonder how the people who elected this bunch to power are feeling now. It’s not about those hideous handbags, for all that they’re the very epitome of ‘crasschavastic’ vulgarity, or the fact that Premier Joseph Muscat and his spouse, with a boorishness that was breathtaking, kept their own guests waiting for some 90 minutes at some do or other connected with the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, to give the irrelevancy its resplendent title.
It’s not even about the fact that quite clearly Premier Joe’s minions couldn’t organise a booze-up in a brewery or even get the spelling on the invitations right, these are all merely minor symptoms of the much deeper malaise that’s affecting this sad land.
No, what should be moving the switchers and accommodators to shame is the sight and sound of people like Joe Debono Grech, bellowing in the House that he would be performing all manner of unspeakable acts on Marlene Farrugia. Horrid memories for those of my vintage, and a touch, a mere soupcon, of it for those of younger years.
Incidentally, I’ve been asked what I think of Farrugia’s defection from the ranks of Labour.
Frankly, I would have been more impressed if she had done this in circumstances similar to those Lawrence Gonzi had underwent at the hands of those other specimens, Franco Debono and Jeffrey Pullicino Orlando. Not that it’s Farrugia’s fault, of course, that Labour have enough of a majority to allow Premier Muscat to come over all gracious, forgiving and democratic, unlike Debono Grech, who reverted to Labour’s type.
As I write, it was reported that Debono Grech has written to the Speaker of the House, apologising for his outburst and making the point that he was making this apology on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.
Oh, so that’s all right then, come on back into the fold of civilisation, Mr Debono Grech, why don’t you, and the spectre you raised of Labour’s dark and violent past will then fade back from our memories, letting the dazzle and schmazzle of Premier Muscat’s obfuscation bewilder the electorate into thinking that Labour has changed.
Strained apologies through gritted teeth notwithstanding, Debono Grech’s performance deserves nothing less than the outright and unreserved condemnation of anyone who has even the tiniest decent bone in his/her body. He should be told the time has come for him to take a very long walk into political oblivion, never to darken the political scene ever again.
Instead, what we’ve had, Heaven help us, is none other than the minister who so loves to be seen as responsible to ensure that everyone is loved, cherished and prized in society letting it be known that women should be careful not to let their tongues run away with them.
I’m not entirely sure of the pettifogging detail of what Helena Dalli actually said, she’ll no doubt have some PR wonk come out with a “clarification”.
Her problem is that the scuttlebutt on the media as I write this is that she drove a coach and four right through the carefully-constructed edifice of women’s rights that has been built up over the years, taking us right back to the dark days of people who would have assumed that “the bitch was asking for it, she provoked her husband beyond endurance”.
I mean, seriously, in 2015, does a minister actually thinks she can shoot her mouth off by saying something so downright retro, and not in a nice way, that Farrugia had to call on her to resign? Does nothing shame these people?
And while on the subject of shooting mouths off, what price Minister Carmelo Abela, responsible for the Armed Forces of Malta and all that?
Since so many people decided to vote Labour to get Labour, we’ve been lumbered with a panoply of clowns
According to this gentleman, Malta is more in danger from the Opposition’s scaremongering than from the forces of evil and oppression that are all around us. Again, I mean, seriously, in the context of the ongoing atrocities all around us and the positions being taken by the Americans and the Italians, to name but two, Abela really thinks he can pooh-pooh the clear and present danger to our security and score cheap, really, really cheap, political points off the Opposition?
Moving on with the panoply of clowns that we’ve been lumbered with since so many people decided to vote Labour to get Labour, what about that Karmenu Mifsud Bonnici guy? Just in case anyone has forgotten, he was prime minister up to 1987, not a million years ago, and he was a Labour prime minister, once removed from Premier Joe.
According to this luminary, Malta, a member of the European Union and – one hopes – a civilised country, should bear in mind that our Constitution requires us to offer the same support and succour to ISIS that we offer to France. Fine, you know and I know that he’s quite a number of nuggets short of a cheerful breakfast, but to the world out there, one of Malta’s premier politicians, an ex-prime minister to boot, has put thuggery and vileness into the same frame as the civilised world.
Words are beginning to fail me, almost but not quite.
Debono Grech threatens a woman in the House and it’s as if nothing has happened. Dalli at a stroke sends the cause of the protection of women from violence back into the 1950s and it’s as if nothing has happened. Abela cheapens the massacre in France by making fun of the Opposition and it’s as if nothing has happened.
Insofar as concerns Mifsud Bonnici, the less said the better.
It’s not been a good week for Premier Muscat, for all that he and the spouse have been having a whale of a time hobnobbing with the great and the good, including the (real) Royal Family.
In other areas of the media, you know the area I mean, you can get first hand accounts of the faux pas (dunno what the plural of that is) perpetrated by Premier Muscat’s minions, the cheap and tacky behaviour at the fora organised on the peripheries of CHOGM, the people being kept waiting and all that, so I won’t waste your time with recounting the same stuff.
I couldn’t let this week’s column go by, though, without underlining the glorious irony of Mrs Premier Muscat’s awesome capacity to put her dainty foot right into it. The dear lady has let it be known that women who have families and carry on with their careers are fine role models for their kids.
I couldn’t agree more, truth be told, though I have equal levels of admiration for those who choose other paths but coming from someone whose only claim to distinction is being the wife of Premier Muscat, I thought this was more than slightly rich.
This person, who let it be known just after her hubby had scuttled up the steps to Castille that they intended to make the best of it for the next five years (darn right they’re living up to that promise), appears to have deluded herself into thinking that she’s forging a heroic path for the liberation of women from the shackles of the past, such that she can pronounce herself solemnly from on high.
Maybe she had an inkling that one of her husband’s ministers was about to kick women’s lib back a few decades and she thought she’d better try to compensate by flying the dynamic career woman flag for a bit.
Oh well, that didn’t quite work, did it? Maybe she should stick to swimming between Malta and Gozo or whatever it was that she is reported to have done.
Just a quick mention of an interesting place in Ta’ l-Ibraġ, of all locales, where memories of the old Bouzouki goodness are evoked at Drift, just next to the church. To be picky, service could be a touch snappier, but the food is good and, anyway, why hurry Saturday lunch?