Vote for the Doughnut Man. Who else?

“Hawn tad-doughnuts!” How often have I heard that refrain in the last few months? Five, six billion times? I don’t know, but it was often enough to confidently predict that by the time I finish writing this article, I’ll be hearing it again. And, right on cue, here he comes! That rasping, metallic and suspiciously Dalek-like voice, drifting over the early spring haze of pollen and dust: ‘Hawn tad-doughnuts! Hawn tad-doughnuts! Ara kemm huma sbieh! Ara xi gmiel ta’ doughnuts!”… over and over again for the rest of the afternoon, in between intervals of exactly 15 seconds… just like the puff pastry equivalent of the Rosary during the procession of Our Lady of Sorrows.

But how many times have I actually seen those doughnuts with my own eyes? Only once. It happened a couple of months ago, when – not unlike today – I sat at my computer and tried to cope with the stress of meeting an early deadline. And just as I reached that crucial turning point when words finally start flowing out (like rain into a paper cup, and all that)… along comes the doughnut van, and everything goes to the dogs.

I shall have to admit, however, that doughnuts were very far from my mind when I finally stormed out of the house to confront this puff-pastry psychopath once and for all. On the contrary, I was chiefly preoccupied with thoughts of vengeance, retribution and poetic justice: imagining obscure places where car-top loudspeakers can accidently find themselves rammed, for instance… and if doughnuts came into the picture at all, it was only in a Guantanamo Bay-style force-feeding sort of way (“Ara kemm huma sbieh ISSA!”, if you get my drift.)

But when I finally got to within confrontation distance of the Dreaded Doughnut Dalek… something happened. My eyes alighted on the array of sweet and savoury delicacies in the back of the van. All my fury and pent-up hostility found itself wavering at the critical moment – it is, after all, difficult to sustain a foul temper with around 100 innocent little doughnuts looking back at you with doleful dollops of jam instead of eyes – and…

My God, but he’s right. They ARE beautiful. Every last one of them. Never before had I paused to admire the sheer embodiment of aesthetic perfection that is a good-quality doughnut. What a treat to the senses. How exquisitely proportioned in all their diverse dimensions. And what a marvellous example of ‘unity in diversity’, too…

Some were sprinkled with sugar granules, so that they glistened like diamonds in the morning sun. Others had been given a smattering of dusty white flour, so that from a distance they looked almost like a snow-capped mountain range. There were spherical doughnuts topped with custard; toroidal doughnuts artfully designed to resemble the Mir space station; elongated baguette-style doughnuts, complete with French berets made of marzipan. Some even had fanciful appendages of whisked cream, each sculpted into the shape of a prancing pony or a pirouetting ballerina. And at least one of them had a beard and wore a glitzy dress…

Yet for all this diversity, doughnuts were they all… and on sale at only 80c each.

So instead of impaling the doughnut man on his loudspeaker, I ended up buying half a dozen of his doughnuts myself – “le, mhux minn dawk: bil-jam biss…” – and my life has never been quite the same since. I am now more in touch with my inner self. At peace with the universe. It is as though the mysteries of life suddenly winked at me through the hole of a ring of freshly deep-fried dough. And I think nothing but happy thoughts of sugar-coated, flour-topped sweet little nothings, all stuffed with jam.

Well, it seems my conversion to the Church of the Blessed Bagel comes not a moment too soon. Next Saturday I shall be called upon to do my duty towards the Republic, and vote for the best candidate to represent Malta. And what better candidate could there possibly be, than the Doughnut Dalek?

Seriously, think about it for a second. Unlike the major political parties of this country, he has never lied to us. He told us (a trillion times) that his doughnuts are beautiful. And he’s right. They are. He told me I’d never find better doughnuts anywhere else in the world. And he’s right. I haven’t. More to the point: unlike any other candidate, he can truthfully claim to always be there when we need him. And even when we don’t. What more could you possibly want from a potential member of the European parliament?

But the overwhelming reason we should all vote for the doughnut man is his unique power of persuasion. If – without even trying very hard – he managed to not only pacify a furious homicidal maniac such as myself, but also convinced me to buy half a dozen of his wares… well, just imagine how effectively he would succeed where all other Maltese MEP have failed, and convince all the political groupings of the European parliament to vote in line with the national interest on an issue that actually matters?

I can see him in action in Brussels and Strasbourg already...

Speaker of the House: “Mr Doughnut Man, you have two minutes to talk about a common migration policy for Europe… starting… NOW!”

Doughnut Man (through simultaneous interpretation): “Here is of the doughnuts! See how beautiful they are! Look, what beauty of doughnuts…!”

Speaker: “Right, that’s it, time for a vote. Unanimously approved, with no abstentions…”

Finally, we will have been given what we were promised so no longer but which never materialised. A truly new way of doing politics…

Sadly, however, the Doughnut Man is not actually contesting this election, so we shall have to make do with all the other lumps of dough on the ballot sheet. Now: is it just me, or does the Doughnut Man make infinitely more sense than all of them put together?

Let’s compare his mantra to all the other endlessly repeated, Dalek-like slogans to reach our ears every day, and I’ll leave you all to judge for yourselves.

“This is the moment of truth. Your vote will make it clear whether you believe who took you for a ride, and who didn’t…  It is an election that will confirm that we are going down the right path.” (Joseph Muscat)

“These elections are the perfect opportunity to reward Joseph Muscat and the Labour government. Whereas Joseph Muscat hit the ground running instantly, Simon Busuttil will only hit the ground running in another two and a half years”. (Marlene Mizzi)

“The European elections are an occasion to send a clear message to the Labour government and warn it that it cannot do as it pleases simply because it won the general election with a handsome majority… you can give government a yellow card, you cannot throw it out but you can tell government that you are not satisfied.” (Simon Busuttil)

“You can also send a message that the PN is back on its feet and the party can be an effective opposition. You can send a clear message that the PN not only can win three seats in the European Parliament for the very first time, but that it is ready to govern again in four years’ time.” (Simon Busuttil)

Right: I think you’ll find that both parties are relaying roughly the same message here… but unlike the clarity and self-evident honesty of Mr Doughnut Man’s slogan, it is difficult to actually understand what the heck they are trying to say.

This election is an opportunity to “reward Joseph Muscat”? Why, because winning a general election last March by a margin of 36,000 votes was not ‘reward’ enough? He wants more? And… erm… shouldn’t it actually be the other way around? Isn’t it the people who should be ‘rewarded’ for their choice, by a government that truly strives to create a just and equitable society for everyone?

You do, however, have to marvel at the sheer humility inherent in the message. Such selfless altruism, to turn this election into a shameless vehicle for self-glorification. Vote for me, because I deserve to be rewarded. Vote for me, because I’m THAT GOOD!

Barf. Give me the doughnuts any day. At least they don’t leave a bad taste in my mouth.

As for Simon Busuttil, the message becomes more confusing still. According to him we should use this election to confirm that the PN is on the right track, and ready to govern in four years’ time.

Small problem. What if we happen to like the PN’s individual candidates, and have every intention of giving some of them a vote… but at the same time, we don’t approve of the direction the party is taking in local matters, and don’t agree that Simon Busuttil is actually fit to be prime minister in 2018? What then?

Do we reluctantly stop short of endorsing PN candidates in this election, so that perhaps its leader finally gets it into his head that it is precisely the track the PN is on – the same old confrontational, name-calling, whining and whingeing record of the past 10 years – that is in fact the problem? That if people abandoned the PN in droves last year, it is precisely because they disapprove of its way of doing politics, and were sort of hoping it would change under new leadership?

Terribly unfair on the PN candidates themselves, I would have thought. For a change, I happen to think the Nationalist Party has fielded quite a few heavyweight contenders in this election. Even (or should I say especially) the less-known candidates may by all accounts make very fine MEPs indeed. I don’t think anyone in his right mind would doubt the European credentials of former Chamber of Commerce chairperson Helga Ellul, for instance. Stefano Mallia was associated with the ‘Yes to Europe’ campaign in 2003; surely he knows a thing or two about how European institutions actually work, and how to make the most of them.

As for Jonathan Shaw, I know him well enough to know that he will most likely be an effective MEP. Even if I didn’t, I would have gleaned as much from his press contributions and interviews (including my own).

Shaw’s case is particularly interesting because he also seems to be striking out in a slightly different direction from the rest of the PN. He is the only candidate (apart from the Greens) to openly favour an end to spring hunting. In a country when politicians have always been too scared of losing votes on this one particular issue, that makes his position a brave one to take. And if there’s anything in this world I admire more than doughnuts, it is courage in politicians.

But if we apply Busuttil’s logic, voting for Jonathan Shaw may prove difficult. We have been told to use our vote to approve the PN’s direction. Yet the direction Shaw is taking is not the same as the rest of the PN. Ironically, a vote for Jonathan Shaw can only mean disapproval of the PN’s trajectory on at least one issue – hunting. And it is an issue of concern to thousands who will be voting in this election.

How much simpler, how much more practical and elegant, how much more useful and soul-satisfying, to use our vote to support those in life who tell us simple things we know to be true. Like how goddamn good their doughnuts are.

So if, like me, you are in the quandary of wanting to support the most qualified candidate in this election by far, but who isn’t actually contesting the election… never fear. Do as I plan to do, and take with you into the polling station a cunningly-concealed jar of strawberry jam. Then use the jam to mark your numerical preferences on the ballot sheet, so that you can send an unmistakable message to the political establishment, while till voting for the candidate of your choice.

The message? “OK, we’re voting for you this time, but if the Doughnut Man ever decides to contest… you’ll all be dunked in the coffee cup of history…”

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some doughnuts to go out and buy…