Way back in the early 1990s I’d be trawling through the television stations to get to something bearable. Somewhere along the way I’d come across fuzzy Italian teleshopping channel where a squawking saleswoman called Wanna Marchi would be aggressively pushing her wares. The pudgy Marchi used to be accompanied by her daughter and the two would screech out at audiences, trying to convince them of the benefits of anti-cellulite cream or strappy contraptions which would make body fat jiggle about and disappear.
As the sales patter increased in pitch and intensity, I’d wonder about who on earth could possibly be taken in by Marchi’s grandiose claims about her products. Were there really that many credulous viewers who believed that the mud she pushed would tone their thighs? Did they actually think that standing on a platform with a band vibrating around their butt cheeks would transform their bottom into a pert peach shape? Apparently many of them did. They dismissed the appearance of Marchi herself and bought her products by the thousands. Those gullible viewers spent thousands of lire and smeared countless bucketfuls of anti-cellulite cream over themselves in an attempt to turn their ugly duckling selves into swans. They refused to listen to the voice of reason which should have been droning on inside their head telling them that if Marchi’s products really did what they claimed then she’d use them herself and she wouldn’t look the way she did – like a blowsy, chubby charlady. The buyers went ahead and invested their money in worthless creams and ointments. Common sense was abandoned as they dialled away for Marchi’s magical potions.
Looking at the Wanna Marchi phenomenon dispassionately, it is very easy to dismiss the buyers as pathetically credulous consumers who would purchase anything she pitched hard enough. They would probably be described as uninformed consumers who simply plunged ahead and provided their credit card details before weighing the claims being made about the product being advertised. However, gullibility isn’t the only factor which explains Marchi’s success. The truth is that the buyers wanted to believe that her products worked. Just like all those other women out there smearing over-priced moisturiser over their orange-peel thighs, they wanted to buy into the dream of beauty and slenderness. They so desperately wanted those creams and quiver-machines to work that they were ready to quell any misgivings they might have had about their effectiveness. Rationality and logic were pushed aside. It was a triumph of hope over experience.

I have no idea whether any of Wanna Marchi’s customers were Maltese, but even if we didn’t fall for the cellulite creams, a good part of the Maltese electorate displays precisely the same mentality when it comes to politicians and electoral promises – wanting to believe them no matter how unlikely it is that politicians are sincere or the pre-electoral promises will be kept. So we get letters like the one in the paper today where the writer coos with delight over the 20 Grand Harbour projects promised by the Prime Minister and Austin Gatt. There was no mention of the fact that to date these are only paper projects and are not accompanied by any costings or deadlines. And that glossy insert about the Grand Harbour vision may have looked extremely attractive, but if we can’t stop Balluta Bay from turning into a toilet what are the chances of doing up the Grand Harbour successfully? The same considerations should be given to the proposals put forward by the Labour Party. Take the one about subsidising homes for first-time buyers, for example. How is that going to be financed? Will it have the long-term effect of calming the accelerating cost of property? Probably not. Yet the want-to-believers are lauding it as the best thing since Tista’ Tkun Int started paying for weddings for those who couldn’t get hitched and pay to have a party. I know that most of these gushing letters are written by party flunkies and local councillors pretending to be impressed by the vision of their respective leaders – that’s to be expected. But when I overhear people in the street going on about this electoral programme or that promised hand-out, it’s all I can do to stop my eyes rolling. You’d think that after living through an electoral campaign or two they’d get wise to these gimmicks and undoable proposals. Although some politicians should be given the benefit of the doubt, we should stop pouncing on every promise and every proposal as if it was some kind of fantastic solution to all our problems. Far better to keep in mind that if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Cellulite creams don’t work and most pre-electoral promises are just gimmicks. It’s sad but it’s true so get used to it.

Incidentally, Wanna Marchi and her daughter ended up in jail after having been found guilty of defrauding customers. The mother and daughter duo purported to provide them with winning lotto numbers and to tell them if they had a hex on them. Instead, they fleeced their customers of their money, did not come up with any winning numbers and gave them kitchen salt instead of powder with magical properties. Although it was Marchi who ended up behind bars, I can’t help feeling that the people who purchased her useless amulets and charms did have a hand in bringing their woes upon themselves. Hope may trump experience and common sense every time, but if you act like a gullible fool, don’t expect not to be suckered some time. It’s the same thing with pre-election promises. If you believe everything that’s printed in the brochures squashed into your letter box, you’re going to be in for a big dose of post-election disillusionment.