Yet another mob made up solely of a certain kind of man – not a good sign at all

When I wrote that Adrian Delia’s aim is to turn the Nationalist Party into the Labour Party, I meant it. Look at the way he speaks, snarling and talking about enemies. Look at his mob: all men who you might see betting round the Marsa stables. But the grand farce is his talk of ‘il-partit’ – when this is a man who has never, but never done the slightest thing in any kind of politics, as has been amply evident from the mess he has made over the last few weeks when faced with his first hurdle.

His wife, from a civilised social background and ultra-presentable, is nowhere to be seen, and instead he has surrounded himself with dockers, white-taxi drivers, pimp types and Censu L-Iswed. He loves his family, but he doesn’t want them around because they spoil the Neapolitan hardman image he’s trying to cultivate for himself after having first putting on a fraudulent image to appeal to people like Alexander Borg Olivier, who I hope now has the good sense and decency to be embarrassed for having stuck up for him.

This man is a redneck who is happiest surrounded by Maltin ta’ Soho and habitues of poker dens like the Big Shot Bar. So help us God.