The growing queues outside the charity food distribution centres need no explanation. That is why Silvio Berlusconi's attempt to downplay the economic crisis by conjuring up the image of full restaurants resulted in such national uproar.

What are actually full in Italy are the charity canteens. The number of Italians forced below the poverty line has risen so dramatically that many charities are struggling to cope. The Caritas in Rimini is now feeding more than 200 people every day. By the end of the year it expects to have provided 85,000 lunches. In 2010 it served up 74,000.

The new poor are mainly pensioners, or divorced fathers who cannot support themselves, their former wives and children. Antonio, a 44-year-old unemployed decorator forced to queue for a meal, says: "Nobody is spending any money on their houses. Everybody is postponing what can be postponed. There is no work, and if you get any they don't pay for months."

There are also entire families who ask for a charity pacco spesa, a package with pasta and bread, or help to buy children's schoolbooks.

"It's a complete change of lifestyle also for the middle classes who are getting used to an inexorable slide towards poverty," says Maria Laura Rodota, social commentator for the Corriere della Sera. "People take turns to host dinner parties instead of going to restaurants. They swap houses instead of going on holiday. Those who had money have taken it out of the country. A friend who works as an intermediary in Berlin is bombarded by requests from people wanting to buy flats there. Those who have more money are buying in London. And in Switzerland banks are working 24/7 with new Italian clients."

Traditionally, Italians are savers. Now, according to a recent poll, 48% are very worried about what could happen to their savings.

In the reigning confusion one thing is clear: the absolute contempt for the political class, the "caste", as it is known, which is seen as incompetent and corrupt. Three Italians out of four consider Berlusconi responsible for the crisis.

Berlusconi's resignation will not change overnight Italy's 50th ranking in the world for freedom of the press, and 74th for gender equality, or the fact that only 18% of the population has access to broadband internet.

"The only cautious glimmer of hope is Mario Monti. He would be trusted to do the painful reforms with wisdom. With youth unemployment at a record 29.3%, there are entire families with three adult children living off the pension of the father. If you cut the pensions you must accompany it with incentives to hire the young or with a proper welfare system," says Nicola Assetta, a political analyst.

The contrast between Berlusconi and Monti, the stern professor of economics, could not be stronger. The difference in style is illustrated by an episode at Milan airport last week, when Monti landed on his way to meet President Giorgio Napolitano.

Monti, an internationally respected former EU commissioner, was queuing at the gate on his own with a trolley and an old document holder bearing the EU anti-trust logo, a souvenir of the time he famously took on the monopolistic activities of Bill Gates, inflicting on him an unprecedented £340m fine – and winning Monti the nickname "Super Mario". Monti was sidelined by a group of Berlusconi junior ministers with several police protection teams who noisily jumped all the queues. Then a passenger approached and said: "Please, Prof Monti, save our country."

Technocratic governments have an honoured tradition in Italy of managing to do what politicians are too cowardly to do. A government led by Monti would be the best suited to accomplish the reforms demanded by the EU and by the new head of the European Central Bank, Mario Draghi. The "Super Marios" – Monti and Draghi – rushing to the rescue of the poor country "screwed" by Berlusconi is already a powerful image. Too bad if the telephone intercepts of the two Marios would probably be slightly less entertainingand more soporific than the salacious calls of the ex-prime minister.

But many Italians fear Berlusconi's departure is a plot to let someone else take the blame for the unpopular austerity measures, and then organise a comeback. "I'll believe that he's gone only when I see him dead," says 46-year-old Raffaella, a factory worker. "He is a like a vampire – you need someone to drive a stake through his heart. What he is doing is just re-organising for the next elections when he is going to do a 'Putin' and try to put a puppet at the head of the government and himself as president of the republic."Certainly his Berlus-clones, the corrupt politicians who have seized most centres of power to pursue their own interests only, are still in place.

But the appointment of the Super Marios does give hope to the other Italy – the good one, the serious one, which is sick and tired of the disastrous Berlusconismo.

Annalisa Piras is London correspondent of the Italian news magazine L'Espresso