I had no intention of writing about the Eurovision Song Contest.

Really, I didn't, promise, cross my heart and hope to die and all that. After all, there are limits to how much I can poke fun at the sad individuals to whom it seems to come as a surprise every year that winning this mediocrity show is not about being any less mediocre than the other mediocre acts but about the way mediocre viewers express their mediocre opinion.

Do you get the impression that I think that mediocrity is the defining characteristic of the Eurovision?

Which is not to say that it is an event that should be ignored: many millions watch it, so putting the flag up in front of them, on the off-chance that that any of them have a few euro left over from battling Merkel's austerity to spend on a holiday, they might decide to spend them here, isn't a bad idea.

But that's the extent to which it should be taken seriously, if at all.

But I reckoned without Joseph Muscat's "safe pair of hands", his Head of Super One, the conduit through which Labour's pearls of wisdom flow out to the world, waiting for them as it does with bated breath. It is, of course, Jason Micallef to whom I refer, a veritable Big Cheese within Labour, one of the axes around which the galaxy of Star Candidates rotate, all gearing together to sustain The Leader is his quest to charge breathlessly up the steps to Castille.

According to this sublime genius, this political guru nonpareil, this grey eminence with an intellect of gargantuan proportions, it is now imperative that someone should take responsibility for the way Malta performed in the Eurovision.

He is, of course, right. All debates in the House must cease, a large screen should be erected and the Hon. Members must, subject to a three-line whip, sit through the Semi-Final and the Final itself, and then follow up this ordeal with an in-depth interrogation of all concerned, starting it need hardly be said with the artiste himself, whose every twitch and grimace and wiggle should be scrutinised and subjected to searing analysis.

For it is on issues such as these upon which the country depends for its continued well-being, indubitably, in this particular instance the question why a pop song of such unquestionable brilliance failed to rise above others of such awfulness that the contest should only have been about who was going to come second to Malta.

If you ever needed evidence that Labour's driving theory is simply "say what you need to say, do what you need to do, to hoover up any vote, even if you have to look like a total twerp when doing so" then look no further, Jason Micallef has provided you with it.