In truth, reading the comments posted under pieces written by real (as opposed to wannabe) journalists sometimes is an exercise in horror and pity.

The horror stems from the sheer cruelty and bitterness demonstrated by some of the commenters, which is a word that should divest itself of the wavy red line that Mr Gates' programme imposes on it. Let's get this straight once and for all, the people who comment on articles or blogs are not bloggers, they are simply people who are making a comment.

In some instances, they have something interesting or pertinent to say and they do in well written, generally pithy, comments. These guys add to the general discussion positively and are more than welcome. They're the sort of person who make lively discussion in pubs and around coffee tables interesting, especially if they are capable of injecting a dose of humour into the proceedings.

But they're not bloggers, not until they start producing stuff that is more than comment and that you have to work at to produce, especially if, like this one, it's carried on a site which has more than a little credibility.

Nor are they commentators, for all that they comment on what others have done: commentators write comment, not comments - the difference is, say, as between a panel member in a forum, who provides the commentary on the topic under discussion, and the audience member who interjects a question or comment.

So they are commenters, and there's the wavy red line again. They are also members of the wider commentariat (red line again - really, Mr Gates, do try to keep up) where columnists and bloggers also find themselves. There's no order of hierarchy (well, there is, but it would be rude to point it out)

But, getting back to the horror, it's not the humorous or thoughtful commenters that engender it, it's the vicious bigots who seem to delight in proving that just because they live in, or are descended from people who lived in, a Christian country, or at least one that espouses values of respect for human dignity, they themselves espouse no such values.

Take a look, for example, at the story about a Somali man who died in a traffic accident recently: it had, last time I looked, dropped out of the "most commented" list that resides to the right of this blog. If you can find it again, skim through the comments and marvel, or more precisely, be disgusted, at the way some so-called human beings can vomit so much thinly-disguised glee at the death of an immigrant.

These would be people, of course, who say they have a fundamental right to freedom of expression and no-one should censor their views.

They're the same people who say that the convicted racist Norman Lowell has the right to express his views on culling the handicapped, repatriating black adoptees and their adoptive parents, and shooting immigrants on the beaches, to mention but a few of the sickening theories this individual promotes.

They are, of course, wrong: you don't, as I've written before, come to the table of fundamental rights with dirty hands and before you sit down with grown-ups to discuss anything, you have to grow up, intellectually.

The bitterness that comes out in the comments section isn't, however, restricted to racism and bigotry.

Take a look at virtually any story with a political twist. It's amazing to me how Labour Lil'Elves persist in spewing byte after byte of bitter comment, attributing dark motives and sinister agendas to everything that happens in this country.

What is amazing to me isn't that the commenters themselves do this: I happen to know some of them and it won't come as any surprise to you, the reasonable reader, to know that their agenda is anything but objective. They have personal axes to grind, if you'll forgive me from stating the bleedin' obvious, and grind them they will, come what may.

No, what is amazing is that the Labour Party, which is trying, by all accounts, to occupy the middle ground of Maltese politics, seems actually to encourage these people in their, thankfully unsuccessful, mission to make the country look like an arid wasteland where corruption reigns supreme and a coterie of bloated plutocrats skulk in the shadows pulling strings and making us all dance to their tune.

They're helped by the Elfin Babes, it has to be said, for whom nothing is ever any good and to whom you can never say anything because you have a personal interest.

We're not living in paradise on Earth, by any means, but we're certainly not as badly off as the Elves, apparently backed (or at least, not discouraged) by the Commander of Elves In Chief, would have us believe.

Do we really have another three or so years of this? It's almost enough to make you switch off the ‘Net.