How dare you threaten me, pitiross?

Hey Neville Gafà, do you really think you can threaten me?

I know I’ve been up your arse for a while. Your life got easier since Daphne was killed. You chased her down garden centres and cafés right till the day a bomb was put in her car. You must have smirked when you heard she was killed. You certainly showed no remorse.

Then you went ahead bribing and blackmailing witnesses to cover up selling medical visas to victims of war. You went on holiday to Tripoli meeting warlords wanted for human rights abuses. You collected a salary from government even as your own ministry denied having anything to do with you.

And you’re challenging me to explain myself because the buses were late 9 summers ago? You’re threatening me with “revelations” after six years out of government while you were in it?

Don’t you think I know your government had me followed and photographed to check who I meet? Don’t you think I know you’ve been looking for ways to hurt me and my family?

How dare you threaten me?

You do that because if Keith Schembri walks the plank as his own cabinet colleagues are publicly asking him to now, your game is up. You’ll no longer cavort around like you own the place. You’ll go back to your optician’s assistant job. And then what happens to all the promises you’ve made? How will you then protect yourself from the witnesses who say you’ve solicited or taken bribes from them?

I know there’s some comfort for you, Neville Gafà. In prison you won’t mind if the bus is late.