From a god to a con
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From a god to a con

Our Prime Minister is a great man—greater than anyone I remember in my long years of living on this rock. I nearly said arid rock but then I remembered that since he climbed the hills of Castille and got into power the world here has gone from mediocre and boring to brazenly phenomenal.

If there’s one thing the man is good at to perfection is spin. In fact I’m not sure if anyone ever read his doctoral thesis but, whatever he said in it, any kindergarten would immediately grant him, even without submission of any thesis, a doctorate cum laude for his potential at turning any bad item of news into a whirlwind of praise for his movement. He’s a spinner by divine feel.

Godfrey, long maligned, long made to sound and seem hardly sensible or sensitive, has resigned or to take off the spin and gloss has been fired. We all know that don’t we?

But instead of this ex-minister who has had so much thrown at him (think John Dalli being foisted on him as a super-minister, think of tents being nixed by Doctor Spin, think of his paramour/partner being given a post and Spinner nullifying that too) being the centre of attraction for a short 15-minute period, our young energetic PM has turned this into a feast of a reshuffle. And people, except those bitter PN ones, all seem happy and smug.

If our Doctor Mizzi had already reached a conclusion in his mother of all energy road-map now all he needs to do is get his magic wand out and solve all our health problems. From now on when my head aches or my toe hurts I will call our Kon. All is good in the state of Malta and of our health.

Cons galore are the order of the day—the ordure of knives out, conniving, embraces which seem as hollow as hell, is all carpeted away for no one to see or feel.

Life never springs a dull moment—all our moments of crises are given a great big dollop of spin and all is fine in Girgenti and thereabouts.

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