Labour is in government, cried the doomsayers. Cried as in tears—tearing their hearts and, when still intact, hair out. Let’s analyse this, as the sun and the temperatures have been good to us and a breeze has kept our sultry, mind-numbing heat away.

Why did the doom-sayers cry? They did so because the PN in government had become such a caricature of itself that they were sure Labour would get it right by default. Nothing Labour could do could be worse than the PN, ergo Labour was in for a five-year honeymoon, all would be rosy and bright and no-one would dare say much about the way Joseph & his merry band ruled.

And yet barely have their honeymoon days passed and Joseph and his now hardly merry men are shooting themselves in each foot rather too gaily. Apart from a few giggly asides, we hardly seem to care that these horrors are happening all too frequently.

I never thought too highly of our politicians and thought even less of one who smiles too much, promises the moon, and changes his position on anything as long as it sounds catchy—especially if the catch is a few hundreds or many thousands of votes. I prefer—and have always done so—the politicians who usually stand by their principles and who know how to lead. Even if their marketing and management skills are defective, the leaders I like have a sound ideology and a belief in all they say and promise.

Promising meritocracy when you know it’s all just words and a right royal sham sounds not just lame but a swindle. But all this talk of meritocracy, transfers and stuff rather fades when compared to what is happening in some of our top ministries.

Again, being full of human kindness, I would more than forgive minor gaffes and silly foibles. But to order your police to wait at a Government function is—how can I put it nicely?—outrageous. The minister hugging a few convicts—or can’t one call them that?—hardly amused anyone. Now we also have the admission that the same minister sat twiddling his thumbs while interviews for secret service personnel were being conducted. That alone should have been a resigning factor—weren’t we promised a policy that if mistakes are committed heads would roll? If it weren’t terrible I’d say these are the best jokes I’ve heard since my favourite comedian stood up and cracked a few sides open.

Slowly, but inordinately, we are becoming a cheap joke, sliding ever so wonderfully down to the third-world status we had prided ourselves on reaching a few decades back.

I just pray God that all this trickery and jokes are not all part of a nefarious plan to take us back to the times of Mintoff—oh, and now the kissing of that monolith’s coffin takes on a rather darker tinge.