The PL is turning into my mother

Not my mother

At home in Gozo we joke with my mother - a diminutive Mediterranean matriarch - about her excess strength of character. Her motto, my sisters and I tell her affectionately, is 'Everyone has a right to my opinion'.

I am beginning to think that the Partit Laburista is turning into my mother. Here's a little off the cuff tally.

For Labour, journalists are independent only if they're Labour groupies like Godfrey Grima. Otherwise they are all evil men and women who spend their time in a dark cave hatching nefarious plots against Labour.

When Labour publishes private emails they are innocent leaks. When other media do exactly the same with emails which do not please Labour, the innocent leak instantly becomes theft.

If I meekly say that Joseph Muscat has so far not convinced me to vote for him, Gino Cauchi, the Labour spokesman on Broadcasting, goes on Super One and declares that Bondi+ should be taken off the air. But then it is alright for Joseph Muscat himself to encourage Sabrina Agius - who was and was going to be his undercover journalist at RTK till the election and his candidate in the following one - to join the PBS newsroom.

Edgar Galea Curmi, the PM's head of secretariat, was massacred by Labour for making a perfectly innocent call to the Police Commissioner about the drug bust of his godson's father. But that the godson, Cyrus Engerer, was present when the call in his interest was made is ok in Labour's book.

There is only person, a woman, who Joseph Muscat has promised to applaud even she disagrees with everything he says. Her name is Nicola Abela Garrett.

Perhaps my mother should have taught me to call people fucking wankers. My life would have been so much easier.