Canadian Political Humour With Fubrics Short
It is with relief and an assuagement of spirits that this scribe, witnessing the heat and humidity rising off the Rideau Canal, the gentle waterway that flows through this empyrean capital, Ottawa, wipes off the perspiration that is starting to form on his brow, that is to say, my brow, and take a well-deserved breather now that the political season is finished for the year, the plays are done, the play-offs finished, the clock has tolled, the politicking has moved fully into its proper arena of back-stabbing behind doors closed to public scrutiny, the blood-letting hidden, except, perhaps, for a few trickles of blood under the door, a bit of meat for those who have the courage and stamina to play the assiduous detective searching for that big scoop as we say in the newspaper business, but rare in the summer as most if not all of our unimpeachable Members of Parliament (those are the representatives of our fair citizens for those not in the know) head for vacation spots either close or far from their constituents, depending on whether they have family there or if their constituency was handed to them on a platter, perhaps they’re not even sure of their riding, or where it is exactly, in which case I’m sure they will steer well clear of any potential entanglement with people who might want to have a word with them, or engage them in some way with trite idle chatter about work, work for God’s sake, but it’s summer and our thoughts turn elsewhere
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