A Labour of love… A Backbencher’s blog… Blogpost 40…

Ah terrific, summer hours at Parliament, which means no hours at all. And – as is our wont, we – yes that even includes me – are off and away on our various freebie “Fact-finding missions” to foreign climes. I put in for either beach conservation methods in Barbados or gourmet eating in the Bahamas. However… Jo-zeff, in his infinite wisdom, decided to allot me a fact-finding mission to discover the ins and outs – but mostly outs – of sewage disposal facilities in Belarus.

Better than nothing I suppose. Although my hotel in Minsk is a bit like staying in the Ħal Far detention centre… with less privacy. I actually counted no fewer than 27 poorly concealed CC TV cameras in my room. Yesterday, I visited the ensuite WC and – as soon as I had sat down the door opened and Ludmilla (My minder) handed me a single sheet of toilet paper with the instruction: “When fineesh, flash once pliss – and only once.”

I hope this doesn’t sound ungracious but if I never see another solid faecal matter reduction unit in my life again… I shall be eternally grateful. I mean, there is only so much you can do with… ahem… waste materials – and here they seem have that area extremely well covered. Hey ho! It’s all part of life’s rich tapestry and will doubtless make a chapter in my memoirs… one day.

Last evening, I was escorted to a theatre in Minsk to watch a play. It went by the catchy title The triumph of the socialist peasants’ revolution under the benign supervision of President Alexander Lukashenko. It was… how shall I put this? It was… long. And – since I didn’t understand a word, just a little tedious; although I didn’t tell Ludmilla this.

The only money I possess overseas is a €20 postal order, which my Aunty Lina sent me for my birthday from Gozo

As far as she was concerned I thoroughly enjoyed and was educated by this ‘profound socialist parable.’ Only three more days of lavatory inspection before they let me out and I can return home… I hope.

Before I left for my freebie I was alerted to yet another scurrilous piece of gutter journalism in – naturally – the Opposition press. This concerned a, so-called, well-researched article purporting to blow the lid off my own hidden millions, stashed away in an offshore account in the Caymen Islands.

I am actually loathe to give space to refuting this piffle, but I will anyway. This is nothing short of a bare-faced lie! Far greater than any porkie Kon may have perpetrated… or Keet almighty for that matter. Theirs were only little fibs, this was one mega terminological inexactitude. Hidden millions indeed; my entire worldly wealth doesn’t even run to six figures, let alone seven. And the only money I possess overseas is a €20 postal order, which my Aunty Lina sent me for my birthday from Gozo. So if the Għajnsielem branch of BOV is categorised as offshore these days then yes, guilty as charged… well almost.

When I get back to Malta I will make an appointment with our charismatic and loveable leader Jo-zeff, to see what can be done about these outrageously defamatory slanders being perpetrated by these jealous pretend-politicians.

Those behind the promulgation of such appalling lies should face the courts… and I shall say so. It’s surely a criminal offence and action must be taken. The only thing is, I don’t really want to spoil things for Kon and Keet… or even Jo-zeff, no especially not for Jo-zeff. Decisions, decisions.

At this point I would like to say something in the defence of poor little Lou Bondi, one of the more prestigious of our charismatic and loveable leader’s converts. The remorseless Opposition media have spuriously decided to target the great man (although not as great as Jo-zeff of course) and this really bugs me.

Just because he saw the red light and defected to our side of the political divide, he has quite literally been demonised by such as the strega from Bidnija. They are accusing poor little Lou of selling his soul for 54,000 pieces of PL silver. Well so what if he did? As long as he eventually realised on which side his bread is buttered, does it matter if that butter was a little rancid?

Comments

Troo-bloo writes: You are condoning, no promoting corruption on a grand scale, never before seen in Malta.

Better red than dead writes: What does condoning mean?