“Pintard’s Pipe Dream: The FNM’s Sudden Love Affair with Housing the Poor”

Guess what, Michael Pintard is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

So, Michael Pintard has done it again. The leader of the Free National Movement—yes, that same FNM that left Bahamians waiting, wanting, and wondering between 2017 and 2021—has stepped back into the political spotlight with a glittering new promise: “When we return to government, we’ll build homes for Bahamians.”

Well, pop the popcorn and cue the laugh track, because this might be the biggest political joke of the year.

Déjà Vu of Broken Promises

Let’s rewind for a moment. Back in 2017, when the FNM swept into power with fanfare and big talk, Bahamians dared to hope. Affordable housing was one of those shiny promises they dangled like keys before a child—something to keep the crowd distracted. At the same time, they rearranged the governance furniture to suit their friends and financiers. But what did the FNM actually build? Not one house. Not even a chicken coop. It was a mirage of hope, a cruel joke on the Bahamian people.

And what did the FNM actually build? Not one house. Not even a chicken coop.

For four long years, the party strutted and stumbled through power like a band with no rhythm—lots of noise, no melody. They didn’t deliver homes, didn’t deliver relief, and in the end, didn’t even have the stomach to finish their term. They were so anxious to escape the job they begged for, they called an early election. Imagine that—a government so tired of governing, they quit early. They didn’t just fail the Bahamian people; they surrendered.

The Great Bahamian Betrayal

Here comes Pintard, waving a shiny new carrot, as if Bahamians have suddenly developed collective amnesia. He wants us to believe that this time—oh, this time—it’ll be different. This time, they’ll build houses. This time, they care about the working class. This time, the FNM has found religion in compassion. Please!

This is the same FNM that hiked up the Value Added Tax to 12%, squeezing every drop of sweat from the backs of working Bahamians, while telling us it was for our own good. They took from the struggling single mother, the small business owner, the pensioner trying to make ends meet—and then turned around and handed custom exemptions for industrial washers and dryers so their own could wash their millions clean. It was a slap in the face of the hardworking Bahamians, a clear sign of where their priorities lay.

Dionisio D’Aguilar didn’t just benefit from policy—he was the policy. The FNM governed like a private club, with selective membership and exclusive perks. For the rest of us? Nothing but VAT receipts and empty promises.

A Party for the Privileged

The truth is, the FNM has never been a party for the common man. Its natural constituency has always been those who can build their own houses—the landowners, the contractors, the well-connected. Its political DNA doesn’t carry compassion for the downtrodden; it carries entitlement for the elite.

So, who exactly does Pintard think he’s fooling? This sudden “pro-people” reinvention of the FNM is like a wolf showing up in a sheep costume, bleating about community service. Bahamians aren’t buying it. Not after four years of seeing what the FNM really stands for—tax hikes for the poor, loopholes for the rich, and photo ops for themselves.

The Carrot Trick

Make no mistake, this “housing initiative” is a classic political carrot. Pintard knows that thousands of Bahamians are desperate for affordable homes. He knows that the waiting list is long, the frustration is profound, and hope is scarce. So what does he do? He dangles the dream—something shiny, something tempting.

But there’s a problem: Bahamians remember. We remember when the FNM had every opportunity to make good on that dream. They had power, money, and time. They had blueprints, budgets, and bureaucrats. What they didn’t have was the will to do the work.

And now, three years later, Pintard expects us to believe he’s suddenly found the magic hammer? Has he been converted from policy paralysis to public service? Please. The only thing the FNM has built recently is another press release.

Minnis in the Shadows

And let’s talk about the elephant—or rather, the former prime minister—in the room: Dr Hubert Minnis. The man who led the FNM into its spectacular downfall still lurks behind the scenes, waiting, watching, plotting. Pintard may be a leader, but everyone knows Minnis still has the knife.

If Pintard thinks he’ll glide back into power with Minnis sitting quietly in the corner, he’s dreaming. Minnis will ensure that Pintard never sees the seat of power, not even through the window. The FNM’s internal squabbles are so deep that their so-called “comeback” looks more like a slow-motion implosion.

The Politics of Desperation

You can smell the desperation from Bay Street to Bamboo Town. The FNM has lost its footing, its following, and its flavour. So now, they’re reaching for whatever gimmick they find—talking about “the people” and “affordable housing” as if they didn’t spend four years ignoring those people.

When a political party allergic to empathy suddenly starts preaching about social justice, you know the campaign season is near. It’s like watching a cat try to bark—it’s awkward, unconvincing, and a little sad.

Pintard is banking on Bahamian short memories, but the people are wiser now. The COVID years, job losses, and empty promises left scars. Bahamians have learned to ask the one question Pintard can’t answer: “If you couldn’t do it when you had power, why should we believe you can do it now?”

A Record of Retreat

The FNM’s 2017–2021 term wasn’t just a failure but an abdication. They didn’t just fail to lead; they ran from leadership. When the going got tough, they folded. While the country needed stability and vision, they offered excuses and exit strategies. That early election call wasn’t courage—it was capitulation.

And now Pintard wants Bahamians to hand them the keys again? After they abandoned ship the first time? It’s like trusting the same babysitter who forgot your kid at school—twice.

The Real Joke

The absolute joke in all this isn’t Pintard’s promise—the FNM believes that Bahamians are still falling for it. They think a few press conferences and a glossy plan can erase four years of neglect. But the people have receipts. They’ve lived the consequences of FNM governance: higher taxes, stagnant wages, and no new homes for the working class.

You can’t build houses on empty words. You can’t build trust on broken promises. And you definitely can’t move the backs of the people you ignored.

Closing Credits

So, as Pintard and his crew rehearse their comeback tour, Bahamians should remember that this isn’t new. It’s recycled rhetoric from a party that had its chance and blew it. They gave up on governing once, and no matter how many times they rebrand, repaint, or repackage, the foundation is still cracked.

The FNM doesn’t build homes. They build headlines. And this latest announcement? Just another one for the pile.

So, the next time you hear Michael Pintard talk about “housing the people,” remember: this is the same party that built nothing, achieved little, and quit early. The same party that taxed your breadbasket and pampered their pals. The same crew, now pretending to care about people experiencing poverty, who they once ignored. Who do they think they’re fooling?

Because the Bahamian people aren’t laughing with them anymore—they’re laughing at them.

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