I rarely write these days; my levels of cynicism have soared higher than the probabilities of Trump going to war with his own shadow.

In fact, I find it hard to get even mildly irate about anything that isn't the mistreatment of animals or an oily stain on my favourite T-shirt: I realised, too early in my days perhaps, that Malta is a massive, chaotic, badly produced Truman Show into which all of us have been duped the moment we've collected our ID cards.

"Here, sir, this is your number, you get to sit, watch, grumble on Facebook and try to change the world via a petition on change.org. Enjoy your stay, and you must, because there’s no way out. Nice photo by the way, you should use it on Tinder."

Malta is a massive, chaotic, badly produced Truman Show into which all of us have been duped

Of course, there is always some new low to be reached, and I'd love to think this happens on Wednesday afternoons when most Planning Authority decisions on some eyesore or other are invariably delivered with a green light loud enough to stun an alien spaceship.

Yet, there's a welcome exception delivered by our state broadcaster, which has broken the sweaty monotony of Heatwave Lucifer (not very creative, this name. They should’ve called it Heatwave Johann) with a one-two of shockers that puts Hiroshima and Nagasaki to shame.

The first, of course, is the decision to air a reality show about some guy called Ben Camille on its schedule. Not much to see here except for plucked eyebrows and insipid scripting. I only have a mild idea who Ben Camille is – some guy who's had Xarabank filming his wedding, someone else filming his honeymoon, and is apparently the son of somebody called Rita. Needless to say, I'll be watching this world-changing reality show with the same passion of a Transport Malta employee asked to direct traffic at tal-Balal.

The second decision, well – is the bottom of the barrel.

The Malta Developers Association will be hosting an educational TV programme.

I'm half tempted to throw away my documentaries library to watch the eminent Sandro impart his knowledge. “Today, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll tell you which architect you should consult to turn your ODZ toolshed into the Playboy Mansion, the top 10 corrupt case officers, and the real story about how one of us left a derelict block and a tower crane in Xemxija for 10 years.”

I've no doubt the MDA are on one of their massive PR drives. Earlier this year, they donated the sum of €53,000 from a fundraising gala to the Malta Community Chest Fund – probably without even noticing, thinking they were just tipping the waiters, or merely one of their wives left her Patek Philippe in the bathroom.

That Sandro and his merry men have decided to embark on an "Operation: Sympathy" is perfectly understandable. Most of us seem frustrated (nothing more than that) at the blight of tower cranes filling the airspace, while driving is also impossible thanks to building sites every 200m or so.

Others, like an Australian lady from Swieqi or tourists in Xlendi have decided to pack up and leave because of frustrations caused by excessive construction – but there again, the economy will survive any loss of foreigners or tourists through the sale of Ben Camille-branded ravioli packs.

Arguments about a bubble prone to burst like a drunkard's pancreas will be quashed by the Great Builder who will probably invite some Great Banker to justify the property rush.

Sandro Chetcuti will illuminate us, environmentally-conscious cabbages, with his educational programme. The MDA will get our lazy minds chugging away fast enough to realise that unbridled construction builds beautiful nations, health and safety is a concept invented by the EU to slow down our economy, parks or open spaces are less desirable than scaffoldings and gated communities, and that Chetcuti himself has the same interests as the environmentalists – as his attempted backstage flirtatiousness with those stinking, anti-progressive hippies reassuringly demonstrates.

Tellingly, the MDA is an institution by and for people who hugely profit from the building boom and rising property prices. Professing itself as an association that can somehow educate is a kick in the teeth to those educators in Malta don't even make €1,000 a month and struggle to make ends meet because of the current market, for which the MDA is also partly responsible.

For one, the MDA should educate developers themselves before showering us with propaganda: while the local authorities are busier counting their toes instead of enforcing rules, regulations and decency, most developers, architects and contractors seem to be busier getting the job done faster rather than properly.

For the last few years, our country has been made to look like the Polygon after a particularly fierce round of missile tests. Of course, developers too have got mouths to feed (foie gras) and fridges to fill (industrial fridges, I understand).

TVM, who in their drive to secure advertising money will be bringing two monsters to our TV screens for their next schedule, has a lot to answer for. I'm curious to see which documentary or cultural show (like there’s been a lot of choice there) will be sacrificed for the Four Horsemen of the Concrete Apocalypse and their televised stunting.

The revolution will not be televised, as the great Gil Scott Heron put it: instead, let's amuse ourselves to death with this flurry of plucked eyebrows while concrete-fuelled propaganda permeates state TV, having already funded and controlled party politics.