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A sham, a crying shame

When you watch a movie with hardly any plot and an unending series of gags, laughs and funny situations, usually that film turns boring and senseless. Few will love it; fewer still will laugh at its cracks.

This is what seems to be happening to the Prime Minister and his now sorry band. Their jokes on the people of this so fair land are excessive, their idiocy turning them into worse than clowns.

That they had no plot except to take over the land is now obvious.

That they devised no plot while steering the land is even more than obvious.

But while for a time their bungling, their mistakes and their greed seemed all part of their inexperience, it has now transpired that the scam that was sold to the populace was just that—a not-so-funny scam of fancy words and fancier promises.

At first even the gore that came out of the comedies seemed a part of the farce; it seemed as if we had fallen into a rabbit hole and all was upside down, an Alice in Wonderland scenario where good was bad and bad was worse.

If Gonzi, that horrid man, was a demon what is the scenario we are living called?

Today Joseph Muscat and his team have really turned what we had into a horror movie. Now anything can be expected: all that is terrible, all that proves we are now quickly going down the path of mocking our institutions and embracing people who are known to embrace corruption.

Once it was funny; now it is a crying shame.

When the Gaffarenas, Cyrus Engerers, Michael Falzons, Ian Borgs and Manuel Mallias remain lording it—with the crowd hailing them in leonine ovations—then the comedy, alas, truly stops.

It’s not just the plot and the laughs that have been lost.

It is our soul and our future.

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