Yesterday was the last day you could have signed the petition for the Government to effectively take back Manoel Island from Midi. Those guys who built that rich-man’s ghetto for their friends on Dragut’s Point. The same guys who gave us that most important shopping complex Tigne Point. The same guys who have been patiently poised to do the same to Manoel Island.

A cursory visit to MidiMalta.com’s, a click on their About Us page and a quick scroll through their Our Team of Chairmen and Directors, you will see it pack with the usual cadre of craggy vanilla pods bearing those ever familiar family names. Their chinless headshots whispering all you need to know about their prospective future for Manoel Island. Isn’t it beyond incredible that a crusty old crotch stain like Joe Gasan still enjoys sitting on so many boards even after being embroiled in the Electrogas scandal?

You can only gawk at the avarice of these individuals. Their avarice and ignorance. You’d be forgiven to think that the money they made from developing Tigne Point would have been enough for them. That after all these years they might say, ‘Maybe we don’t need to do replicate this parasitic model we’ve perfected on Manoel Island. Maybe we should be content with what we’ve done and reaped. And maybe we should give Manoel Island back to the public.’ But no, banish the thought, ‘We’ve got the shareholders to think about -and anyway look at all the public gardens we are going to build for you.’

Some of you will be thinking, ‘Don’t be naive. That’s not how it works.’

Oh well another Eurovision come and gone. Thankfully we were nowhere close to winning. But it is embarrassing to be beaten by Israel. You know that country in the final genocidal throes of the extermination of Gaza. The Four Horsemen are firmly hitched to their Gideon’s Chariot, as they lay waste to humanity.

I don’t know what would happen if Malta were ever to win the Eurovision. Somebody somewhere would probably pour petrol on a library. Hell freezes over. The end of days? Thankfully this personal existential dread of mine has been dispelled for another year.

But here’s what I do know: Neville Gafà, national bell-end and part-time mouth muff, has snuck out under the cover of darkness again and tore down Daphne Caruana Galizia’s memorial. Again. 

And I’ll tell you what also didn’t happen: not a single squeak of condemnation from the Government. Not even a fart from the Opposition. Quelle surprise! They must’ve all been busy touching themselves, praying for a Eurovision victory.

We seem to have forgotten what we were meant to lest forget. 

Renaissance…let’s call it for what it truly is, boutification. Renaissance implies the glorious rebirth of one of the first truly European cities. This is a hostile real-estate take over, run by the Maltese.

We suck through unregulated boreholes. To water our ailing crops, and top our bloated pools, we suck. We’ve unwittedly sucked so hard, it’s now beginning to taste a little salty.

Cranes as far as the eye can see: evidence of a nation’s development. I wonder how many cranes actually exist on these islands? Where are they all kept? Can I get one from Lidl? Are we to be hoisted by our own crane?