Author: Alan

First full day out of power. No longer a minister of the Crown.

Feels strange… But there’s a certain feeling of freedom in it. It’s not my job any longer. The country can get by without me and my colleagues. The sun, unlike what our old chief said on the campaign trail, will still rise in the east and set in the west. It’s for us to hold the (temporary) victors to account, to act as the loyal and principled opposition.

I think they’ll find it’s harder sledding than they imagined. I see that the halo of our country’s saviour did not last a full day – not even two hours! After the battering they gave us, I can’t help but feel a little vindicated. It isn’t nearly as easy as it looks from the Speaker’s left-hand side, is it?

What to do, what to do… Well, there’s that bottle of vodka from my last trip to St. Petersburg. Or the flask of absinthe from that NATO summit in Prague.

There was no need to leave it for my successor…

[Sunporch. Morning. The first newspaper in the pile is unfurled majesteriously, the rest sitting on the ottoman under a pair slippered feet.]

Him: Well, look at that, would ya! [To the next room] Hey, honey! There are Reform Tories, Harris Tories, Mulroney Tories and even a couple dear old Joe Clark Red Tories in there! [Quieter] All squished in just 27 seats. How will they manage that? But nothing for Diane Ablonczy, the younger less…err…hearty…Deb Gray. Great gals and tough ones too. Too bad they never made it to the promised land. Room for a turncoat but not for Diane.

[Reaches for tea, then toast, then tea again, slurping.]

Him: Too bad about Diane. And, hey, they still have a Heritage Ministry. That was a great Ministry. [Louder again] Hey Honey! Remember when I had Heritage? [To self] That was great. One reception after another…

[She enters in dressing gown. Grabs a paper out from under his feet, shoving them aside. He makes a face and she makes one back smiling.]

Him: Watch your step! Remember when I had Heritage? I figured they’d have that one for the chop for sure. Too bad about Emerson, eh? Nice enough guy but a bit full of himself…Mr. Big Phd…Mr. businessman. Worked his way up through the public sector to mark his private sector mark. International Trade. No harm there. Not like you do much there. When did they split that from Foreign Affairs anyway? They same folk sitting in the same embassies putting up with two different Ministers. The boss would never have put up with that. Fat chance he’ll get voted in again.

[She gets up and walks out giving his shoulder a swat with her paper on the way by.]

Him: What! What did I do? [Quieter] Too bad about Ablonczy – what a sparkplug…

So, it was Emerson, was it?

I didn’t see that coming. I thought it’d be Brison, myself. Or Holland. Or, now that I think about it, just about anyone else . . . except Stronach, of course. Even Harper couldn’t take Stronach back.

You can’t even blame him for that: who’d trust her on that side of the house? [Sotto voce] Or this one, either?

Other than David’s little plum, who else did he have to call upon? They’ve been out of government for long enough that they really are having to entrust rookies with big responsibilities. That Solberg kid, for example, is just bound to trip up. He may play well in the sticks, on that internet blog circuit, but he’ll soon find that running a ministry is much more difficult than just coining a few quips for his basement-dwelling blog readers.

Oh, and Jim “I’m a yes-man for Harris” Flaherty to Finance? We don’t even need to write the press releases for the Toronto Star . . . they’ll write ’em without prompting (or payment). Harper really handed us a good media hook there. Clement in Health is nearly as good — we can count the Toronto media as on our side again with those two in Cabinet.

And does Harper really think he can run a government with so few ministers? Please. The civil servants will keep them so busy that they’ll always look flustered and badly briefed in front of the cameras. It’s such a nice set-up for us, and they think they’re doing something clever.