Just before Joseph Muscat was due to deliver his reply to Simon Busuttil's devastating speech in Parliament a day earlier, during PQ time, a cabinet minister looked at some of us directly in the eye. To each he said: Make no mistake, your turn will come.

In seeing through the mask of the most feminist government in history, it helps to be a woman. A lifetime spent dealing with male egos trains women in the art of spotting the warning signs of the bruised ego and the backlash: The empty boasts and belittling remarks, the tell-tale signs of attempts at anger management, and the physical signs of anger hissing through the cracks before the explosion.

This minister, who just had to hiss something, was not alone. The day before, the tension on the government benches was evident. The scandal involving Manuel Mallia's ministry had been hogging the limelight for days. The Labour MPs had clearly been instructed to be quiet and disciplined. But the anger beneath wouldn't go away.

One of the first to show it was Joseph Muscat. When one of his sillier MPs broke the collective discipline and banged on his desk, Muscat shot round and snarled while the MP was still in mid-catcall.

There were other signs. The permanent plastic smile on one face, although its owner could not help barracking Simon Busuttil at one point. The minister who was boiling so much he couldn't keep his jacket and tie on. The other who left the chamber no fewer than four times to give vent to his true feelings somewhere else.

It cannot have been easy to have to listen to Simon Busuttil expose their games and hunger for power and self-enrichment. The money-grubbing hunger of many backbenchers, scooping up tens of thousands of euros for jobs of no real significance. The games of ministers dodging responsibility and ignoring the rules governing everyone else.

The day after, it took one look at Muscat to see there had been a lot of anger backstage as well.

The prime minister's fair complexion lends itself naturally to a reddish face, particularly when he gets hot under the collar. He knows this and came prepared. He was wearing special make-up that those of us with TV experience know well. A greenish base (which is effective at turning red into a merely darker skin colour) plus an additional layer of skin-coloured make-up.

He couldn't disguise the other tell-tale marks of anger, however. Those of us who have to watch him from up close are now used to the dilated eyes, the higher-pitched voice, the bluster.

He began his speech by overcompensating with theatrical gestures and over the top rhetoric about optimism. Then he got into his Mintoff-reloaded groove. However, it was obvious that at times he had to tell himself to press the brake pedal. In seeking to belittle Simon Busuttil his fury was showing. He never got red but his skin was darker than usual.

It's obvious why Muscat is furious. For some reason he is stuck with Manuel Mallia, unable to sack him, even though it makes Muscat seem weak, something his male ego hates.

But why is the rest of Labour angry too? Mallia is distracting attention from the bad behaviour of some of them.

That's not how Labour's hunger games work. If Mallia is sacked, it would create a precedent for all the other misbehaving ministers. Their own misdeeds are not minor.

If Mallia is not sacked, there is another danger. Labour MPs know their leader well. He has proved he is ready to drop anyone at a moment's notice if it suits him. He will seek the earliest opportunity to give the media a scalp he can afford to part with. No Labour backbencher and few ministers will be safe.

That's why they are angry. That's why they are behaving like a pack, quiet but growling. It's why we can expect them to unleash their anger on "safe targets", the Opposition and individual members of the media, as soon as they think they will get away with it.

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