by Bob Groeneveld
As I’m in the middle of laying a floor – a task approximately as frustrating as watching a debate between Canada’s political leaders, wannabes, and wishful thinkers – I thought I’d let Sam and Pip, co-leaders of the Canadian Return to Access Party, write my column today.
Actually, as their front toes don’t quite fit the keyboard, I’ve let my iPhone transcribe their commentary on the leadership debate that made me decide to lay the new floor in the sunroom.
Take it away, Sam and Pip.
Sam: “There’s one thing I need to get off my chest at the outset. I’m really quite dismayed that we weren’t given an opportunity to shine a spotlight on our C.R.A.P. like the other party leaders.”
Pip: “That’s right, Sam. After all, Elizabeth May was there.”
Sam: “I also think we need to address some of the poster bait discussion in the media… just a minute, that’s poster bait… no, you silly iPhone, I said poster bait… four crying odd loud, is there a way to shut off the autocorrect on this thing?”
Pip: “Personally, I take exception to the media’s comparing Justin Trudeau’s interruptions of other speakers and particularly the moderator with bulldog behaviour. I don’t know for sure what my lineage is, but it’s entirely possible that there’s some bulldog in there somewhere, and I find the potential association with that stereotype quite humiliating. It’s not a fair representation of the breed.”
Sam: “Wait a minute! You’re not a poodle?”
Pip: “Mostly poodle, almost certainly a significant mix of big john freeze… stupid autocorrect… and quite possibly a few bits of other DNA, including maybe bulldog. And I think Justin’s behaviour was beneath your average bulldog, a highly respectable – and I might add, respectful – breed.”
Sam: “Bee shone… just a second, I have to type this in… bichon. There. So, bichon? Not a poodle?”
Pip: “That’s (give me a second while I type this in) bichon frise, thank you very much. And yes, maybe even some bulldog and what have you.”
Sam: “Not a poodle?”
Pip: “Not ALL poodle. Get it through that skinny aristocratic skull of yours. This is Canada. Your lordship doesn’t count here. I told you when we first met, ‘I’m a dog of the people.’”
Sam: “I thought you said ‘a dog of the poodle.’”
Pip: “And you think the iPhone’s autocorrect is stupid! What a twerp.”
Sam: “Why do you think I convinced my master and The Goddess to take you away from LAPS? We took you into our home. And you have ‘maybe even some bulldog’…”
Pip: “Ya! And what’s wrong with bulldogs? They can’t help it who their dog and bitch were.”
Sam: “OMG! We let you into our lives. We brought you into our social structure. We let you join our pack (at the bottom, sure, but we let you join) and we made you feel wlecome… OMG! I am co-leader of a political party with ‘maybe even some bulldog.’ I am mortified!”
Pip: “And all this time I thought that, for a poodle, you were a pretty decent dog.”
Sam: “Dog? Did you say, ‘Dog?’ Where’s the dog? Is he walking by the house? Can I see him from the front window? How about the kitchen window? Is he out back? IS HE IN OUR YARD??? Where’s the dog? Where’s the dog? Do you see the dog? Where’s the dog?”
Pip: “Gee, Sam, you’ve got a lot of class. Too bad it’s all lower.”
Hi, folks. Back from the sunroom floor.
I think that went rather well. Don’t you?