So some rain fell on the Maltese islands. It even hailed, some said. Big deal I hear you say. Yes, big deal—the rain not only swept away the summer dust, and cleared some debris but it also caused havoc all over. The only thing that saved the islands from a monumental jam was that the kids are still at home. Add schools and vans to the equation with rain and Malta goes into gridlock.

Am I complaining about the rain? Am I saying let’s all pray that we suffer a deeper drought than we seem to habitually suffer? Am I asking God the Father, the Son and any able-bodied god on high to free us from a shower or two? Not at all.

But some thought into what goes on in this country when the rains come is quite in order. Now that we have the most effective administration since the first caveman sliced a loaf of bread I’d have expected all problems of the former, lazy, good-for-nothing admin to disappear. I’m hardly saying the rains are Joseph&Co’s doings but the end results are.

The roads were, and are, a shambles. OK so I didn’t anticipate much happening in the first months. But I haven’t heard of any plan to solve any problem. And a long-touted traffic management planning system—by the old klikka-driven PN government—doesn’t seem to be anywhere on the cards.

Roads used to be closed, with no rhyme and much less reason, back in Gonzi-the-demon days. The same happens now. The madness on the roads, with cars parked illegally and trucks stopping wherever there is shade, is still prevalent. The much-maligned bendies are still there and endorsed by none other than our dynamo of a Transport Minister. And all adds to the confusion and clogging of all our streets.

The mind boggles, the soul withers, even my car gets jellied feet at the thought of the Regional Road flyover plan being put into motion. Not when it is ready—I’m sure after a few years of trial and error we’ll find it works quite efficiently—but while it is being built or whatever they are doing to that infernal piece of road. If it is or part of it is closed, what will happen to us mortals travelling around the merry isle? Will we all—motorists and not—suffer one torrential attack of road rage?

As one supplicant said: oh lord, oh heavenly lord, spare us.