Saviour Balzan | Wednesday, 02 December 2009

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Gee that really hurts

“I really think Peppi is a genius.”
“Yes Prim.”
“He is a master manipulator - he takes the Victor Scerri case instead of discussing Tonio Fenech, the power station extension or corruption allegations in Xarabank. He is so good at making people debate the ‘wrong’ issues.”
“You know Prim, if someone should be rewarded for being your saviour it should be Peppi not Dalli or Joe Borg. Without Peppi we would be in such shit.”
“What do you think Edgar? Should I tell him or just let it be?”
Lawrence stares at Edgar, fixated on the bald patch shining from underneath the few blonde hairs that sort of cover his scalp.
“Well Lawrence, why should you, he has been there five years, had a wonderful wage, a wonderful time so why should we tell him. Ma tarax. All these people should thank us, not we them.”
“Edgar, I wish I could be as strong as you. Where do you get your strength from?”
Jokingly, he retorts:
“It’s the Bovril, Prim.”
Heh, heh.
“Did you see how John (Dalli) fell for our bait, Ed?”
“Just like a mazzun, Prim… Just like a mazzun.”
And then they laugh.
Drin, Drin.
The Prime Minister looks at the phone and sees that it is Joe Borg.
“Marija, Ed it’s Joe Borg, what do I do?”
Edgar takes a deep breath.
“Madonna Prim, kemm int xieref… just reply in a ‘sotto voce’ voice and tell him that you are in a meeting and that you will phone later… and of course don’t phone.”
“Tajba, Ed… here it goes.”
In a very low voice, the Prime Minister answers.
“Hello Joe…. I am sorry … Ma nistax inkellmek … I’ll get back to you later.”
“Okay Lawrence,” he replies meekly.
Back in Brussels, Joe Borg stares at his phone. Isabelle his wife just stares at him in disgust.
“What did he tell you?”
“Xejn, he said he was in a meeting?”
“Ma what a person, mur ara Eddie Fenech Adami jaghmel hekk, what a man, no character. I told you a long time ago that he did not have it to Prime Minister. He should have been in the inquisition.”
“Stop it, I do not like hearing you talk like that.”
“Mhux hekk, now we will forget that this all happened and meet up with him, he will praise you, shake hands with you and smile. U hallini, to me this man is a protozoan.”
“What is a protozoan?”
“Ask Gonzi, I’m off Joe, for one of my last plates of Belgian mussels and foie gras, and do not even ever mention that protozoan to me again.”
In Castille, Edgar straightens his jacket and takes a look at his watch.
“Lawrence, Dalli is outside, he is waiting…”
“Let him in, let me see how cocky he is today. The man who would love to see me leave Castille from the back door.”
John Dalli walks in, he is red in the face, but this time it is not out of anger but out of embarrassment.
“John, I am so glad to see you.”
“Me too.”
“I hope you believe me when I say that we will miss you in the cabinet.”
John and Edgar look at the Prime Minister in complete bewilderment – both for obvious diametrically opposite reasons.
As Gonzi mumbles on, John thinks of he finds it so easy to see through this man.
Edgar on the other hand, cannot believe that his Prime Minister is so dumb to have said such a thing.
John looks at Gonzi and coughs before speaking, “Lawrence I would like to say a few words. Really, I do not now how to say it. But I really must thank you for everything. I really have misread you and if I have said anything that really hurt you please forgive me, just as I forgave you when you tried to break me and my family’s reputation. And please excuse me if I gave the impression that I did not believe you when you said that you did not push me to resign because you believed what Joe Zahra had fabricated.”
Lawrence gives John Dalli a smile and then pats him on the back.
“Me and Edgar are very happy to see that you have come round. I am also very happy that you have Edward Demicoli the son of Charlie Demicoli. Charlie is a such a party man and a respectable businessman.”
John takes a deep breath and stands up and hugs Gonzi. Edgar smiles and a tear runs downs his cheek.
“Happy Christmas John and take care of yourself.”
“You too Lawrence and bye Edgar.”
John walks out of the room.
“You see Prim, they all come round at the end of the day.”
Drin, Drin, Drin, Drin.
The Prime Minister looks at his mobile and see that it is JPO.
“Madonna ser nghidlu, Ed, dan ser ikellimni fuq l-appell.”
“Prim, he cannot blame us if the Silvio Camilleri appeals, as if we have any control over Silvio. Ajma, just imagine if I had to tell Silvio what to do.”
Drin, Drin, Drin, Drin, Drin.
“Hurry Ed, think fast, ghax kissiruli t-telefon.”
“Tell him you are in a meeting, and that you cannot talk to him.”
The Prime Minister takes a deep breath and then answers the phone.
“Hello Jeff, Sorry I cannot talk to you right now, because I am in a conference and…”
JPO is fuming and interrupts him…
“Conference Z***, I know where you are, you are in your office ma dak, I want an explanation about what is happening. Why is this happening?”
The Prime Minister whispers into the phone and places a paper over the mobile.
“I am sorry Jeff I cannot hear you …”
The he crumples the paper… and pretends not to hear him.
“Hello, hello, are you there …”
“Of course I am here… where the Haqq do you want me to be.”
And the phone simply cuts.
The Prime Minister looks again at Edgar.
“Why cannot my life be easier than this.”
There is a knock at his door. It is Charles Bonello, the rising star at the Office of the Prime Minister.
“Prim, there is s-Sur Richard he would like to talk to you personally. He told me NOW.”
“What a day, Edgar, what a day, what am I to tell Richard.”
“Prim, you will face him, sooner or later. I will stay here, so do not worry.”
Richard rushes into the room, he doesn’t wait to be ushered in.
“How cruel, how cruel, how cruel, how cruel. How could you? How could you? This was for me, This was for me, This was for me. What am I to do now.”
“Richard, calm yourself, calm yourself. Not all is lost. Calm yourself. I still need you here with me. You are my backbone. You and John are different. You believe in me and will do everything, John on the other hand believes in himself and will do nothing for me. And with someone to head the naughty ones in the party, I will have a much easier time ensuring that we will win the next election, and then what better retirement proposal for Mr Richard Cachia Caruana.”
“Mhux hekk, and then you do exactly what you did to Louis Galea when you promised the presidency and all the others you promised other things to. Hallini Lawrence, I am hurt, I have feelings you know and I had plans. It is not fair, not fair at all. I had plans….”
And he falls to his feet and breaks down, crying.
Edgar runs to the phone and asks the messengers to come in and help them carry Richard.
A messenger walks in and gapes is-Sur Richard pallid and on the floor.
“My God, Sur Richard, naghmillek kafe iswed.”
Richard looks up at him.
“I do not take black coffee, imbecile, I only take coffee with milk and one sugar.”
“Sorry Sur Richard, Sorry, sorry!”
Four messengers drag Richard out. All of them red in the face from the strain of carrying 103 kg.
The Prime Minister looks at Edgar in disbelief.
“You know Edgar, I need a holiday. Why don’t you tell George Pullicin to organise something for us. But not somewhere close to Malta, because they will soon spread the false rumour that we have bought property in some Sicilian village.”
“Leave it to me, just relax everything will be okay.”

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