He’s back. That’s right, folks. It’s been so long since he’s said anything worth taking the Mickey out of, I almost forgot we had a Leader of the Opposition. But make no mistake: we do, and boy, is he cheesed off.
* * *
Alfred, it seems, has taken monumental offence at a cartoon that appeared in The Times this week. Like Pope Benedict before him, cartoonist Maurice Tanti Burlo evidently forgot his place in the greater scheme of things, and, failing to comprehend the Divine Nature of Maltese party politics, actually dared to expose the Labour leader to public disdain and ridicule. As Steve Irving might have put it: Crikey!
Of course, Alfred is demanding a full-scale apology, and threatening all sorts of acts of divine retribution should the editor’s head not be handed to him on a silver platter by dawn tomorrow.
Now why does this all sound so terribly familiar? And why do visions of burning Danish flags flit momentarily through my mind like bats out of Afghanistan?
* * *
Never mind. The truth is that Alfred is perfectly right. I mean, honestly. A cartoonist? Drawing cartoons? Making fun of political figures? Whatever have we come to?
If you ask me, it’s all this new-fangled “freedom of expression” rubbish. And it won’t stop there, let me tell you. We all know how it goes: cartoons today, opinions tomorrow, free and independent thinking the day after that... and before you know it, in a few years’ time we’ll even have news bulletins which actually tell us what’s happening in the country, instead of merely regurgitating what Minister So-and-So said at the official opening of Such and Such, while thanking all the official sponsors for providing him with such a marvellous platform for gratuitous publicity (which, naturally, is the real reason we have “The News” to begin with).
* * *
Oh, and I need hardly outline the possible implications, if this worrying trend is allowed to creep into other institutions besides the media. Take the government, for instance.
Why, instead of fulfilling its proper function – i.e., to serve as a board of directors to the construction industry, and lobby for the occasional golf course - it would have to start actually governing the country. Can you imagine? And as for the Opposition, I suppose it would have to get down to some real work for a change, and provide alternative policies to the ones on offer, instead of just intoning doom and gloom from dusk till dawn.
* * *
No, indeed. Enough is enough. We’re not to going repeat the mistakes made by other democracies, and allow a bunch of liberal anarchists hold our beloved leaders in contempt. So I just wanted to let Alfred know that I am four-square behind him in his universal crusade against press freedom. In fact, I popped round to Mile End this week to tell him so in person, but he wasn’t home. There was a note on the door, saying: “Gone to set fire to a few cars in St Paul’s Street. Back in five minutes.” So I waited, but... between you and me, I must confess I saw a few things in the foyer of the Glass House that worried me intensely.
* * *
Don’t get me wrong: in most respects it was a carbon copy of what you’d expect in any self-respecting Taliban Caliphate headquarters: the obligatory, full blown portrait of the Glorious Leader on the wall; the humble servants all scurrying about to do their master’s bidding; the secret underground bunker, chock-full of classified files on you, me and all our dogs...
But I couldn’t help noticing that it doesn’t have a minaret. How odd, I found myself thinking. How does the mwezzin summon all the party faithful at prayer-time? Oh, I almost forgot. That’s Super One’s job, isn’t it?
There was more. Looking closer, I saw that... no, it can’t be... it is! There were women! Lots of them! Walking freely about, for all the world as if their place wasn’t at home, instructing the harem, and getting supper ready for their masters when they come home from a day’s rioting. And to cap it all... they weren’t even wearing the burka!!
* * *
I was so shocked I even allowed exclamation marks to creep into my article... for which, naturally, I apologise profusely to the anti-breastfeeding brigade.
* * *
At this point, you might just be wondering about my choice of headline for this week. Well, what can I say? For some people it’s chocolate, for others it’s sex. For me it’s headlines. Late one night I chanced upon Naked Gun 3 1/3 on TV, and saw it in a newspaper read by Leslie Nielsen.
It was one of those things: I just had to have one of my own...