Confessions of a minister - Volume three, Revelations 16

It's that time of year again, when wifey gets itchy feet and decides we need a holiday. This year, for reasons known only to her, she's decided on Goa. I always thought a goer was something quite different, but she assures me it's also a resort on the west coast of India. India!? No chance! I don't know anyone of influence in India... to get us free flights and five-star hotel for nothing.

Why not Crete? I've got a very close Greek Euro buddy, who's also a director of Olympic Airways and who's offered me his holiday villa in Xania. Dammit, I'm not paying for something I can get for free! Goa - Crete, what's the difference? They're both bloody third world resorts!

Monday

At Cabinet this morning, my colleague, the Minister for Serious Partying, makes a point that draws my unreserved support. He asks the PM why we must continue to put up with the usual brain-dead, monosyllabic jobsworths who man the ministry's phones, and who are all totally incapable of ever passing on a message.

I concur loudly, and so do most of my colleagues. Far better to put the phones under the charge of some decorative bimbo, with well developed... er, social graces.

Only one dissenting voice - that of the minister for jobs for the boys. He makes the point that if we bring in competent females, what's he going to do with his nephew... his ministry's current jobsworth, and who is totally unemployable anywhere else? Good point, and I'm in the same position... so, it appears, are most of my Cabinet colleagues. Ah well... think again.

Tuesday

The Opposition are at it again. This morning their party rag accuses me of "interfering with the tendering process" to ensure a transhipment tender goes to a company owned by my family. Absolute rubbish! Totally untrue! I have not and would not ever interfere with the tendering process. Oh no... I made damn sure we got the job long before it was ever put out to tender. Think I'm stupid?

Later to V's, who's in a particularly playful mood. Righty ho... You play ball with me, sweetie, and I'll play... the gender equivalent with you.

Wednesday

Am asked to open a sculpture exhibition at the St James Arty-Tarty place. Manage to keep my speech down to under an hour... just. Then sportingly agree to help the artist dispose of a few glasses of champers.

All goes swimmingly, until I get a little tired and take a seat. Am instantly accosted by the artist. What's wrong? Well, how was I to know it was an exhibit? It looked like a bloody chair to me.

Thursday

Fly to Rome by private charter jet, for top-level governmental meeting. Very fruitful and constructive it is too. Then take excellent lunch and return on jet and am back in Malta by 4 p.m.

And... I can report that things went very well. Oh yes, it's not everyone who gets to meet the Italian minister for any-other-business' parliamentary secretary's assistant's assistant.

Friday

Endure a 30-minute harangue in my office from some rat-faced slapper, who claims to be the spokesperson for something called Malta Also Realises Retro Ignorance Alienates Gender Equality (MARRIAGE). She wants to know why there are so few women in government and parliament. How the hell should I know, maybe they'd rather stay home and tend to their husbands. And so they bloody should! What'd I say?

Late to V's: And... in the course of the usual gymnastics, I get V's knee in a very delicate place. V is less than remorseful, she purrs: "What a big fuss over such a little thing". Thanks, petal.

Saturday

I'm suffering from EWS... Election Withdrawal Symptoms. My doctor tells me this is quite normal in politicians just after elections... any elections. And the surfeit of these we've experienced over the past 18 months, has exacerbated the situation. He suggests a complete break. I should get away from all this, try not to think of mass meetings or slagging off the Opposition. Huh! easier said than done. But I'll try... OK, wifey, Goa is go!