I'm writing this on Wednesday before year-end after a rather gargantuan meal at DVenue, for you to read on Saturday, after the excesses of celebrating the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010, so I wouldn't be surprised if the quality is even lower than ever.
It was an interesting year (usual lazy columnist's cop-out coming up: can't be fagged to think of anything original to write, review the year) from the political side, to put it mildly. Labour's groupies and Lil'Elves almost wet themselves when Lawrence Gonzi's government came under some strain due to the tantrums of some backbenchers, not realising, or wanting to realise, that none of the tantrum-throwers was crazy enough actually to bring down the government, as had happened just one year after Alfred Sant managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and give the Nationalist Party yet another five years at the helm.
You can't really blame the groupies for being so optimistic, I suppose, given that they've not got much else to feel particularly happy about. After an opening couple of months of great promise from He Who Shall Be Called Young (though he isn't, not compared to real young people) the show fizzled out into a greater anti-climax than Michael Jackson's Comeback Tour, which didn't.
We were promised earthquakes and cataclysms, but got smugness, faux-pas and more of the same, with about the only event of note being the appointment of Marisa Micallef as Dr Joseph Muscat's PR guru or some such role. And if that was an event of note, you can imagine what depths of non-entity have been plumbed by the rest of the motley crew that make up Labour's election-winning machine.
Not that the other lot are much better, of course. I've already referred to the foot-stampers and rattle-out-of-the-pram brigade (to say nothing of the dolly-out-of-the-playpen pack) and the PN's machine isn't exactly running on all four cylinders, either. Truth be told, it's a bit of a difficult task to throw a good light on the government's functioning at the moment, being as the wheels have fallen off the economic wagon big time, and though it's hardly Dr Gonzi and his mates' fault that the world has gone to hell in a hand-basket, when the effluent hits the revolving blades, it's the guy at the helm that gets the blame.
And, of course, Dr Muscat and his merry men have not been backward in coming forward to point all manner of fingers of blame at the PM and his Cabinet, as if the current situation is their fault and no one else's. Frankly, I'd much rather have Dr Gonzi and Tonio Fenech trying to muddle us through this thing, since the alternative proposed by Dr Muscat involves bulk-buying and a return to the early 1980s, which is a horrifying enough prospect in itself.
When you think about it, the other alternative (which you can't really have, since there can only be one alternative, to be picky) is even more horrific to contemplate: it involves Dr Sant being at the helm with his "oh well, that didn't work, let's press the ESC button and try something else" version of a computer-sim game. Or, even worse, the let's get out of the EU and go it alone idea.
Iceland did it, why not us?
Looking forward, there's not much to look forward to, really. The recession, instead of receding, seems to have taken a liking to us and taken up residence, so Labour are going to have plenty more fun with blaming the government. Oh well, fair enough I suppose, that's why they were elected. Sometimes I wonder if Dr Gonzi isn't half-tempted to push one of the prima donne over the edge and occupy the opposition benches.
If he doesn't start exercising his interpersonal skills, he might just have to, the Lil'Elves must be feeling, presumably working on the idea that the President could wake up one morning and decide that the PM no longer has the support of the House.
That's about as likely as Gordon Brown asking Tony Blair back to run Great Britain and the President is hardly likely to take leave of his senses just to please the Lil'Elves, but it makes for interesting fantasy.
So, anyway, have a great end and a better beginning - I'm doing it eating, it feels like, starting with a rabbit and chips at St Patrick's in Xlendi, through pizza at Pulena in Marsalforn by way of Oleander and DVenue (see above). The things I have to do to satisfy your culinary curiosity!
And to end the year nicely, we had a late lunch at Porto Vecchio, in shirt-sleeves while Europe shivers.
imbocca@gmail.com, www.timesofmalta.com/blogs