It's been a long campaign and even a political junkie like me finds it difficult to shake off the feeling that there's not much I can add to the sum of human knowledge when it comes to assessing the state of play.Not that this has ever stopped me shooting off my mouth, of course.
Actually, it's an interesting state of play indeed: the PN have been in Government for something in the region of fifteen years, which in our system is a hell of long time. This means that all things being equal, they should expect to be voted out of office, if only because of the dynamics inherent in human nature.
The thing is, all things are not equal. We have a choice in front of us which is quite a fundamental one. Leaving aside the hysterical raving of the delusionals who have opted for hyperbolic verbal gymnastics to kid the populace at large that the country is in a state of disaster when it quite patently is not, we are being asked to choose between a party that, in Government under Dr Gonzi, has steered us to quite a good place and a party that, in Opposition under Dr Muscat, has been the very essence of opportunism, cynical sniping and, frankly, ineptitude.
The simpering faces on the billboards, spouting platitudes that just beg to be substituted by telling jibes at the 'faces' themselves, seem to be designed to annoy and irritate with their preachy tone and smug look.
Even more annoying, as anyone who watched it confirms, is the "me too, wink" piece of rubbish, clearly produced by someone who really does think that an educated girl from Sliema sounds like the dumb chavette who flounces about bleating about how she's going to vote Labour.
Really, my dear, and do you think anyone is surprised, given your quite obvious intellectual attributes, such as they are? These are mere symptoms, indicators, if you like, of the intellectual contempt in which Muscat holds the electorate, you and me.
He really does seem to think that he can say anything, promise anything, even after publishing his Manifesto, and do anything, including concocting the most outrageous pies-in-the-sky. He truly believes that the citizenry will flock to the polls, good and early (no extension to voting times this time around, I bet) thereafter to swoon in collective adulation as he skips daintily up the steps to Castille.
What he will actually do when (if) he gets to the top of those steps, panting slightly as a result of his having let his fitness regime slide because of the trials and tribulations of the campaign will, if it comes to pass, be another matter altogether.