If the situation in this country was not so terrible - or rather tragic - life in Malta would be like living in a real Panto.
Everything is farcical. Actually, worse than farcical. Even the scandals which should make us weep incessantly have started to resemble some poorly scripted comedy.
We have gone totally rogue. And our core just can't keep getting rottener. When the top people of government, or those connected to it, say the idiocies that are now being spouted, then we can pronounce our situation as truly tragicomic.
With some luck, we are not beyond hope and maybe one day, one faraway day, someone will lead a revival of all things good in Malta and take us back to some sanity; but we are getting close to the point of no return. And we will soon need a miracle worker, a wonderkid, to reconvert us into something resembling a normal country.
Here's a look at some of the gems spouted lately.
When we can't even turn a wall green without producing a cock-up, the Prime Minister's promise that "Malta [is] to become EU digital and green leader through Vision 2050" sure proves that we really have fallen into a comedic trapdoor.
If the king of carnival were to utter these words while sailing down Nadur High Street, he'd receive a chorus of boos and laughter. Just recall when we were promised not just a greener Malta but also that we would be world leaders in all things of quality by the previous Labour leader, Joseph Muscat. Now recall the reality that ensued after those promises.
A few weeks before Robert Abela told us that we are on the way to lead the world in green policies, Mick O'Leary, the man from the very green isle, promised us a tsunami of travellers. He said that in a few years' time we'd have eight million of these invaders as opposed to four million. Eight million would most probably be many more than that by the year 2050.
No one told O'Leary that he was talking rubbish. Or that he would be stopped. Or that we are going to cap the number of visitors to this country. No one said that our tourism can't keep growing in numbers. The more the merrier seems our tourism mantra. Yet the panto supremo at Castille has announced that our green credentials will be brilliant.
Brilliantly bonkers he must have meant.
Every day there is something more outrageous than the previous one; as if the scriptwriters are competing for the prize of the most outrageous of all. Then they pass them on to their masters who spout them out like they were some illuminated people leading us to worldly perfection. These politicos must read out all they are given without even looking at them first.
Here are a few more gems taken randomly these last few weeks.
The Planning Minister - yes, you read that right, he who looks after plans for the country - avoided giving a direct reply about the Villa Rosa development plans. If he avoids those answers, what sort of planning is he doing? Maybe he's also a wedding planner and all he can answer is questions about his friends in government getting married?
In two days' time, the nominee to be our next EU commissioner, Glenn Micallef, will face a grilling by the European Parliament. If he makes the grade he will become commissioner for intergenerational solidarity, youth, culture, and sport. Quite a mouthful his remit but, however you look at it, it's rather unimportant - as in fact most observers locally and abroad have pointed out. But going back a few weeks, the prime minister said that it was among the most powerful. It might be - if looked at benevolently - as powerful as the remit that was entrusted to Helena Dalli.
If Micallef's responsibility is one of the most powerful I imagine the ones, or most of the ones, who will be responsible for financial services, the economy, food, crisis management, health, and security, are going to have an easy ride.
That is how we handle politics. Or rather the buffoons in power handle it this way: a total travesty of truth, a whitewashing of all things real, a fun ride of make-believe. Because the people of Malta and Gozo - or the majority of them who are still mesmerised by the Labour gang of dolts - believe we are the centre of the world, of all things terrestrial.
The Prime Minister has to keep harping that we are the best in Europe. In a pantomime Robert Abela and his merry fools would be laughed off the stage and pelted with a torrent of rotten eggs. Yet we sit there complacently or clap in hynotised approval.
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