STAR GUEST POST: A bad press day for our Fearless Leader

Joseph Muscat had two interviews in The Sunday Times yesterday – one in which he tried very hard to draw a line under his blokka silg blunder, and a supposedly more relaxed one where he and the Prime Minister answered identical, more light-hearted questions.

So many wrong notes in two short interviews. Let’s look at some of them.

The Drugs case first. If you want to know about Joseph Taghna’s leadership style, then this is a must-read.

In a very short interview you could feel him squirming uncomfortably and twisting this way and that. He tried three different lines of defence, all of which you might expect to hear at primary school.

THE MANUEL DEFENCE FROM FAWLTY TOWERS (“I know Naathing.”)

“I was not close to the case.”

“To tell you the truth I still didn’t fully understand the case.”

“I thought we were still talking about Attard”, and in case we weren’t yet clear on that, “I honestly thought we were still talking about Attard.”

“As I understand it…”

“Things became clear to me on Sunday.”

THE IT-WASN’T-ME-IT-WAS-HIM LINE OF DEFENCE

“I left things in the hands of Dr Abela.”

“He took the decision.”

“The decision on this case… was his.”

“When I delegate a task I leave things in the hands of the person responsible. This is how I work. My job is not to overturn their decisions.”

Erm, sorry, Dr Muscat, if their decision is to sweep a criminal case under the carpet, then yes, your job as the person ultimately responsible for the Labour Party Club in question is to overturn the decision.

Basically “It wasn’t me it was Toni” – OK, so that’s not a direct quote, but it is the clear message he was trying to put out in this interview.

Try saying that when you’re PM next month and one of your Ministers screws up.

THE WHY-DON’T-YOU-SEE-WHAT-THE-OTHERS-DID SCHOOL OF ARGUMENT

“The PN had similar cases.”

“Even the PN has a lot to learn.”

“No-one recorded their [the PN’s] meetings…” (Mux fier hej.)

Bottom line: He argues at the playground level of a nine-year-old, and shows the loyalty levels and the leadership skills of a cornered rat.

It happened again this morning when the press cornered him at the Island Sanctuary and were more interested in Toni Abela than they were in the dogs. Reporter: “You’re saying that Toni Abela shouldered his responsibility. But he hasn’t resigned. He’s still there.” Joseph Muscat, brow furrowing and turning away uneasily: “Yes, like Tonio Fenech is still there.”

Imagine Lawrence Gonzi saying something like that. Imagine Eddie Fenech Adami. Impossible, right? But we set the bar low for Labour and its leaders.

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And what of his other interview, the light-hearted one in which the same questions were put to the Labour and Nationalist leaders? It is just as revealing.

A ‘light-hearted’ interview like that is of course serious stuff for a prime ministerial candidate, full of potential banana skins to be carefully negotiated and the risk, ever-present for a politician, of sounding terminally uncool.

Lawrence Gonzi did it like a pro – amusing at times, but careful, hitting all the right notes.

And Joseph Muscat? OUCH.

I won’t even mention his Columbus-discovered-America-in-1565 blunder, because that’s been widely picked up and deservedly ridiculed already.

Nearly all his answers are a little off-key, but a few do stand out as being especially off.

First, when asked about the trait that he likes least about himself, the ultimate interview cliché: ‘Being too much of a perfectionist’. Yeugh. And as we know, what people really mean when they say they are perfectionists is that they think they are perfect.

Then there’s the one Daphne pointed out on this blog: the fact that the most expensive thing he’s ever bought, other than his car, is a handbag for his wife. Wrong answer on so many levels, even if your daddy did buy your house and everything in it.

Didn’t he give Michelle an engagement ring? Did his parents pay for it, or was the handbag more expensive even than that?

You don’t talk about spending thousands of euros on a bag for your wife when you’re also talking about how people are struggling to pay their utilities bills.

His favourite sound – “the microwave oven” (as opposed to Gonzi’s violins) “because it means food”. Classy. And this is the man who Kenneth Zammit Tabona, music buff, has selected for his particular approval and attention because his cultural awareness is so much greater than the current incumbent’s.

And the one that says everything about him as a person: ‘If you were a superhero what would your superpower be?’

Lawrence Gonzi: “To fly.”

And Joseph Muscat? “To be invisible.” That’s right. His idea of a really good time would be for no-one to be able to see him, while he spies on what they’re doing; to be able to hide away, maybe to listen in to conversations when nobody knows he is there – the eternal Super One reporter’s nirvana.

And this when he could choose to soar like an eagle or to bend steel beams like paperclips.

But the person who would have been most dismayed at reading the interview must have been his wife.

“Do you think love is forever?”

Lawrence Gonzi: “Yes.”

Joseph Muscat: “I hope so.” The only way he could have got it more wrong is if he’d gone down the Prince Charles route and said, “Whatever love means.” He didn’t quite say “No”, but that is what he meant.

“What was the best kiss of your life?”

Lawrence Gonzi: “My first kiss with Kate.”

Joseph Muscat: “My first kiss.” At first you think it sounds horrifically wrong to the extent that he’ll be sleeping on the sofa for three weeks because he’s admitting that no kiss with Michelle has ever been as good as the first kiss he ever had with somebody else. Then you realise that the nerd had probably never kissed anyone else when he met Michelle in his 20s, that he literally found a girlfriend because that is what you’re supposed to do and then married her because a wife is part of the career project.

“Where would you most like to be right now?”

Lawrence Gonzi: “At home …”

Joseph Muscat: “Here [at the office] is fine.” Fair enough. With Lil Din waiting for you back home who could blame you.

Bottom line: he’s about as cool as black shoes at a gym. And he’s sleeping on the couch, to be allowed back only so Michelle can get a thrill from sharing her bed with the prime minister.