Category: Politics

Who gets my old office? Where do I put all this stuff?

I would only ever say this to the others, of course.  In complete confidence.  That is to say, the level of confidence we attach to our more enthusiastic, brandy-fuelled  discussions  of our various mistress’ amourous preferences.

But the truth of the matter is that 103 seats belies our weakness at this point.  The party is a shambles.  The creditors are basting us with increasingly scalding red ink.  The vast majority of our rank-and-file are more interested in the game of power, played at whichever level their own competence affords them, than in ideas of policy.  The elite – the former elite, I should correct – have lost the common touch that was the key to admission into the upper echelons of political society in the first place.

Twenty two seats short of The Despised Ones, and it may as well be two hundred and twenty two for all the good a tight result did us!  Until we repair our finances, our ideology, our standing with the voting public,  we are nothing but a paper tiger.  Until we choose a leader to bring us out of this horrid hole into which we’ve fallen – God, my head pounds just thinking of the necessary carnage that process will unleash! – The Unwashed will have a free reign.

The worst part is that they know it, too.  It’s humiliating, enough to make the bile rise in my throat.  And I’m not alone – I can see the anger covering the shame in all of our eyes.  We were Ministers of The Crown, for Christ’s sake!

God, I hope it goes to their heads.  I hope every redneck of them bullies us on the other side of the House.  Upset as our friends are with us at this moment, the fourth estate will surely not let that pass.  A government with so many enemies beyond their reach cannot afford cockiness, but if the fates smile upon us, these cowboys will be too simple to realize that until it is too late.

We can only hope.  Well, hope and lay careful foundations…

How does this logging in work? Cursed Internet – could never figure these things out. Would it be acceptable if I just dictate to my secretary and she sends the copy to your P.A. for input? We might as well put them to work while we still have the budget. I’ll probably have to sack the old girl when we get the new budget. Still, I’ve had her for 12 years so some fresh blood would be a nice change.

I tried to console the boss on Tuesday. Though he expelled me from the office, accusing me of being a charlatan and a “false friend.” Whatever you say about the old man he remains an astute judge of character. That’s a joke of course. Actually he caught sight of my rather large grin as he was trying to hold back tears. Yes, to be completely honest I was rather pleased with the result of the little race. The old man didn’t really have the clarity of vision that I admire in a leader. And little interest in my areas of concern.

And opposition can be an absolute hoot! You’re too young to remember, but in the old days we used to be like Sinatra and his clique. Better still, we get another convention. I love conventions. Balloons, booze, broads and a weekend at a five-star all paid for by the Party (except the broads of course). I do hope we can set it for Montreal this time. I cannot believe we had to suffer through Toronto on the last occasion. Plus, Montreal women are fantastic!

From the Office of the Minister

Memo to Staff

Dear Diary

24 January 2006, 10:37 pm.

My head still aches. The party was half relief, half dejection. 103? It could have been worse. Those that stayed on? That could be worse, too. The boss looked happier than I have seen him in months. Someone else will be the new boss in a few months. How many have there been? Bosses. There was that one weekend in ’84 I thought of being the boss. Helen was right. I never did have the charisma of Eugene Whalen.

What can they do with 124? And who is going to back them? Maybe it will be a matter of who won’t – with all the party’s debts another election in 2006 would destroy us. I’m too old to need this many asprin.

Found the damnedest thing in the humidor. Someone had made off with the last Hoyo De Monterrey but left a scrap of paper and words written in what I do not hesitiate to describe as a faltering hand. Something about “the Calgarians are at the gate”. Any idea what he was on about?

The Prime Minister has congratulated his opponent and offered his support in the transition to a new government. He has also announced that he will not lead our great party into another election. The people have indeed spoken, and it is not pleasant to hear.

I spoke to my own campaign workers, supporters, and friends, and thanked them for their (successful) efforts to return me to Ottawa for another term, although this will be a different task for me: on the wrong side of the house.

I would be lying if I said this was a welcome change of status. There was much left undone in my portfolio, much that I think would have been good and worthy, had I but had the opportunity to bring it before the house. Now, I must adapt to the eternal role of the loyal opposition: to critique the proposals of the new minister and (where appropriate) to dig in and oppose with all my might where those proposals are wrong-headed, obtuse, and ignorant of the reality of this great country.

It is only a minority we face, but we face it divided, leaderless, and unsure. We may have the strength to obstruct, but not yet to rebuild or even to hope to recapture our former position. Not yet, at any rate.

The figure stands at the dark window at dusk, a glass in his hand swirling, looking down at the street from his campaign office. The other one. Not the street level one where people can see you but the one he started booking for himself after his third election. Down the hall he could just make out the drumming of a typist.

“I am exhausted,” he thinks to himself. “It was a good race at least for me but what a mess…what a mess. My eighth. Feels much longer. When did those kids get in charge? How long has it been since we it that we didn’t speak about brand and spin or maybe even values? Back in ’84? What a mess that was, too. But every decade the House gets cleaned out. Looks like this one, the decade with no name, will be no different…”

He turns back into the gloom to the rented desk. Glass touches crystal. “After all that power – what now? I might was well be in the NDP for all the say I’ll have…like back in the 80s.” He drinks and touches the tip of his tongue to his lip, drawing air in through the whisky’s hot breath. “Who will be left with me? The boss? He even made that race interesting, the fool. Every election you never know who’ll be left with you. You never know…” He puts down the glass. “How long until ten?” he thinks as he checks his watch again.

[From Jan to March 2006, I tried a group humour blog with others on the subject of Canadian politics. It did not last but the posts were worth keeping. #16 was banned. There were no comments. It was at www.shadowcabinet.ca. The eight writers were anonymous political bloggers, identified only by a number – so I can’t recall who was who. I was #4. I wrote posts #1, #4, #7, #8, #10, #15, #17, #18, #20, #21.  In 2016, I added posts #22 and #23.]