By the time you read this article, this will probably be old news and the dust will have settled, but if I had to let this occasion pass without a single whimper, I’m not sure I would be able to sleep at night.
We live in interesting times, and in this case, by interesting I mean downright ludicrous. Never in the history of mankind have there been so many ways to convey information, and yet never have people been so very ignored.
Yesterday week, the Nationalist councillors got the final vote on whether or not Adrian Delia should stay on as party leader for a further three disastrous years and, as predicted by everyone but the kitchen sink, vote in favour of him staying they did.
We can harp on forever and ever about how low the rate to keep him on was; the fact remains that that’s what they decided. The following day, many were baying for blood: the minute someone so much as commented on the dismal proceedings in a negative way, people came out of their holes in their droves to remind their fellow countrymen that this is a democracy and so what the majority wants, it gets.
It sometimes makes me wonder where all these paladins of justice are hiding when something goes the opposite way. In this country, we only speak of democracy if we are winning.
So, since we have suddenly become all about the facts, here they are: the Nationalist Party has never, ever enjoyed so little support. The local council elections were an unmitigated disaster, with the Labour Party receiving 58 per cent of the total votes and the Nationalists barely scraping by with 40 per cent.
We live in interesting times and in this case, by interesting I mean downright ludicrous
When it came to the European Parliament elections, they lost a seat, which means that Labour-to-Nationalist representation is now 4:2, and yet, yet, here they are wringing their hands, looking at the sky and asking Louis Galea to investigate what may or may not have gone wrong when everyone has been pointing their fingers in the same direction since day one.
It truly is the equivalent of sitting in an armchair while the room is on fire and placidly asking why the temperature has suddenly gone up. One would think none of these people owned a social media profile, opened a newspaper or actually spoke to the man in the street. I’m starting to wonder if they live in some parallel reality I am not privy to.
Day after day after day, the staunchest Nationalists decry the choice of leader. People who have always voted blue are literally baying “not in my name” to the moon, and yet, everyone sits clawing at their thrones and pretending that this is just a series of unfortunate events. We are running the risk of a one-party State and yet nothing will move them. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion and yet no one is willing to put their foot on the brake pedal.
Let the tone-deaf cheer: they might as well enjoy this small victory because there will be no other for them for a long, long time. Election day will come again, amid the tree stumps, the black pollution and the even blacker propaganda, and as the predictable numbers roll in, I plan to be far, far away from these shores. Possibly sipping on a cocktail.
The Nationalist Party put another nail in its coffin yesterday week: what a shame they did it to thunderous applause.