“Muscat was appointed policy consultant with the benefits that come with it arbitrarily, without justification, both because she was not qualified and because she did not fulfil the work that her role entailed,” the report says. The damning document found that both Bartolo and Camilleri abused their power, breached ministerial ethics, and failed to administer public funds diligently.

Bartolo’s response? A half-baked “apology” and a shrug. “No one is perfect in this world, and only those who do not do anything do not commit any mistakes,” he said – an insulting reaction by any reasonable measure. Nobody is asking you to be perfect, Clayton. All we’re asking is that you not be a criminal.

Camilleri on the other hand didn’t even apologise, saying that the contract only lasted eight months. If Robert Abela were fit to be Prime Minister, he would have told them both to clear their desks within 24 hours. Instead, he told us the apology was enough and that we should move on.

Abela has a bizarre knack for taking a scandal and somehow making himself the central problem.

As disgusting as Bartolo’s behaviour is, he isn’t the first minister to give their partner a job, and he certainly won’t be the last. It reflects poorly on Abela because it shows the type of government he’s running, but he wasn’t the issue here. The moment they didn’t resign, it fell on him to fire them – like he did with former minister Justyne Caruana, who was similarly embroiled in job scandal involving her partner. The fact that Abela can face the nation and say their apology is enough is beyond absurd.

The Prime Minister’s response should be shocking, but it’s not. It’s part of the new normal, where politicians can say whatever they please, however detached from reality it might be. And under Robert Abela, we’ve come to expect the government’s reactions to scandals to have the subtlety of a spoiled child on a sugar high. The delivery and message aren’t even relevant anymore; what merits reflection is why he reacted this way.

Either Abela truly believes Bartolo and Camilleri don’t deserve to go —maybe because he was aware of it—or he knows full well how bad their actions were but feels powerless to act. Maybe Bartolo and Camilleri are so essential that their removal would bring the government crashing down. Or, more likely, this kind of misconduct is so common that Abela would rather look like a fool than try explaining to Bartolo and Camilleri why they’re out while everyone else doing the same thing, and possibly worse, get to keep playing minister.

Spoiler alert: it’s the latter. Why else would Camilleri, who seems desperate to keep his ministry, be willing to put another minister’s wife on his payroll? Perhaps there are so many people getting paid for doing nothing that it’s hard to keep track.

So why stop at withholding taxes? Let’s get creative. Why not refuse to pay fines? Or, better yet, start helping ourselves to government resources—a little bit here, a little bit there– as long as we say sorry. If an apology works for ministers who betray public trust, why shouldn’t it work for the rest of us?

The issue, of course, is bigger than just a few corrupt officials; it’s a deep-seated problem in our political system. Many probably see this scandal as a betrayal yet feel it’s futile to fight it. Corruption is embedded in our two-party system—pick between dishonesty or incompetence, but you won’t avoid either.

This scandal, like the ones before it, exposes the absurdity of the system we live in—a place where the privileged few can indulge in blatant self-interest while the rest of us foot the bill. No accountability, no consequences, just a never-ending parade of “apologies” that aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. And so, here we are, stuck in a country where, despite everything, these same people continue to call the shots.

But here’s a word of caution for Robert Abela: remember what happened to the last Prime Minister who refused to sack his two buddies when it was clear to everyone that he needed to.

The public won’t tolerate these antics forever. If Bartolo really wants forgiveness, he should start by returning the money to the people. He can sell off his shiny new café—a colossal breach of ethics in itself—if he needs the cash.