[Daphne – Berlusconi, David, is an unfortunate example because that is exactly how you test the soundness of arguments: by taking them to the logical extreme. And in that way, Berlusconi illustrates just why it is of the essence for those who vote for politicians to be informed as to what those politicians are like. You vote for the whole person. It’s not an office job.]

I was there on that day in June 1971 – smack in the Palace Courtyard – when the old hag and his entourage entered for a ‘courtesy call’ on Sir Maurice Dorman, then Governor General, and ordered him to ‘hop it’ immediately.

There is a photo of the ogre and Joe Camilleri (then his private secretary) walking through the Palace corridors, escorted by (the then) Major Claude Gaffiero in Everyman’s Encyclopedia in the entry about Mintoff.

I still remember seeing a young heifer being paraded on a pick-up in (at the time) Kingsway.

Mintoff came out of his car, stood on the side-runner, or whatever its name, and ordered the horde of barbarians to ‘behave themselves’.

He asked “Will you obey me?”. The hoarse reply came back “Ghalhekk tellajnik, Perit”

What happened between that fatal day and 9th May 1987 not everyone, unfortunately, knows – or, worse still, wants to remember.

I remember watching that disgusting ‘victory’ parade from the door of Palazzo Ferreria, where the Public Works Department was housed.

The bull was pulled by its horns into the Youth Centre where a bottle or two of whisky were forced down its throat.

White foam frothed round its mouth. Sometime later this bull collapsed in the middle of Paola Square.

I was same age at the time and I remember it as if it was yesterday. I remember I had asked my mum why they were calling him Barri, but I got no reply. ‘LE LE LE GORG IL-BARRI MA IRRIDUHX! ASSASSIN TAL-MALTIN!’

Going up Santa Lucia hill, trying to overtake Mintoff’s car, it was obvious to me that there was some interesting activity going on in the back seat.

The car swerved from lane to lane and obviously we could not overtake it.

If anyone has any doubt about this, allow me to annihilate that doubt.

I was the constable on duty on number 1 beat, that is at the junction where South Street crosses Republic Street (then Kingsway) in Valletta. My duty was to direct traffic.

I must admit that the Labour victory then looked more like a march to Buskett on Mnarja than the celebration of a political party victory.