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  • Writer's pictureIan K Ferguson

The Spotless Ramblings of an Eternal Mind

Having just read an on-line article on how to approach this whole blogging caper and what the rules are, I am mindful that Rule #2 states ‘It may be tempting to post snarky political comments, but you are bound to offend someone, possibly an ardent agent or esteemed editor. Don’t do it!’ So I had promised myself that my next blog was not going to ramble on about all things, or indeed any things, political. That I would write about the terrors and pitfalls of trying to convince myself that I was a writer of colossal imagination and integrity, but then I was raking through my emails, which like most people I mostly delete without even opening them, when something from one of the myriad of writing sites I now seemed to be affiliated and otherwise attached to caught my jaundiced eye.

It was called ‘8 reasons Why it’s Frickin’ Great being a Writer’ or something like that. So I read what it had to say hoping that there might be a nugget of hope in it somewhere to keep up my spirits when, swipe me down with a wet, rolled-up copy of the ‘Radio Times’, I thought ‘Hey, this is good stuff’.

I was just about to start reading it again to confirm my suspicions when at the bottom of the article I noticed it had been written by the awesome and hardest working woman in the world of laptop key bashing, Charlotte Atkins, an extremely talented writer who has become something of an internet buddy* of mine from England** over the past few months. I thought ‘Well that’s it, what’s the point carrying on when she’s just nailed it. There’s no point going on is there?’

Consequently, I’m back where I was for my last blog ‘Surrounded by Politics’ still shaking my head at what happens in the mad, mad world of British Columbian*** political accusations and rebuttals, so if I offend anybody it’s intentional and your just going to have to bear with me.

This weeks shenanigans, because when you compare it to the insanity of what is happening south of the border (that’s the 49th Parallel if your not from Canada****) it is basically irrelevant and doesn’t come with half the laughs, but it turns out our illustrious Tinkerbell of a Premier*****, Christy Clarke, has not only been picking up her $200,000 a year for doing that job, but has been raking in another $50,000 per annum from her Liberal Party for having dinner with very rich people who want her to do what they want her to do so they can get richer, for a small charge.

This small charge, apparently, amounts to anything up to $20,000, starting at $19,999 (OK, I made the last figure up, but you get the picture). Now I don’t know about you, but either the dinner is a bit more fancy than Pie, Chips and Mushy Peas for that price or she better do what they want her to do, or else. I don’t know what the ‘what else’ would consist of but I bet it’s something pretty horrid (like telling lots of people not to vote for her and her party in the Election next year).

‘Conflict of interest’ yelled the opposition NDP (Nearly Dead Party) – I think they should rename themselves the NDYP (Not Dead Yet Party) and shoot a pilot episode for American TV based on a fearless but, alas, clueless social minded political party fighting the good fight against anybody who doesn’t agree with them, they would make more of an impact that way I’m sure – because they were really miffed about it all due to the fact that they do exactly the same thing, but can’t charge as much, and their dinners don’t come with Mushy Peas.

The next thing we know, Christy jumped up in Parliament, clad for battle in her cast iron knickers, to explain that the extra $50,000 is not a payment but a ‘stipend’ which has always been paid and has been declared. Quite where it was declared nobody could seem to remember and anyway her predecessor, the much reviled revered Gordon Campbell (who had been forced to resign when it was eventually uncovered that he wasn’t quite human – they shoved him off to London, England in the hope he would fit in) had been doing the same thing for years. So that must be alright then, nobody thought.

Honestly, you couldn’t make this stuff up.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Great Britain****** is getting its collective cricket whites in a twist on whether to ditch Johnny European Foreigner because they won’t always play by our rules (for those of you who don’t know I’m English by the way) and they insist on driving on the wrong side of the road, the rotters. A lot of people want out because they keep beating us at Football, but that’s another argument (probably a more compelling one).

So as you can see, over here in Canada everybody is getting upset over $50,000 (that’s about 300 trillion Quid after exchange rates have been applied), whilst Britain wrestles with whether to cut off it’s left testicle to spite it’s willy. I’ve got to admit I laughed out loud when the ‘Rule Britannia’ mob christened themselves ‘Brexit’ which sounds like an after breakfast laxative.

Call me naïve and feel free to disagree with me, but from over here it seems a bit testy to exile yourself from your biggest trading partner and cheap holiday destinations which have sunshine. If Canada did that to the US everybody (Canadians that is) would be dead from starvation within two weeks or they would walk en-mass over the border (which is just down the road) and beg for mercy (if Donald hadn’t built one of his walls that is) and Canada would be left a large, white empty void with a few igloos dotted about for nostalgia’s sake. To be honest, nothing would change that much.

Actually, when I think about it, that isn’t such a bad idea. Think I’ll take a week off writing, call myself ‘Boris the Spider’ and start a ‘Canexit’ bowel movement. It would have to be good for publicity and I might sell some books.

Excuse me, I may be some time.

*Buddy, is the word people in Canada use to mean ‘mate’; as in the English phrase uttered by a normally youngish man with a very bristly haircut, five beers into his social evening, ‘Who do you think you’re looking at mate?’ just before he kicks someone he’s never seen before in the goolies for no good reason.

** England is a small country perched precariously on the northern edge of a big land mass called Europe. It’s inhabitants have vague memories of briefly ruling everybody else who didn’t know what cricket was by spreading out across the globe and trying to teach them how the LBW (Leg Before Wicket) rule worked and where you had to stand in a field if you wanted to be called a Silly-Mid-On. For a while it worked.

*** British Columbia is nowhere near Britain or Columbia and consists of a lot of trees. The major sport of the region is hiding behind trees until a big cuddly bear wanders by before leaping out and shouting “Boo” at which point the bear gives the hider a startled look and starts a boxing match, which it always wins. If the hider miraculously survives the encounter they celebrate by sliding down steep, snow covered mountains on planks of wood until they break their leg(s).

**** Canada. A really big place that no one can figure any use for yet.

***** Premier. A person who likes to have their photo taken (a lot) while wearing a hard hat and smiling.

****** Britain. England with a few bits tacked on. The other bits hate England.

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