Polk, my accountant, calls and tells me Prime Minister Stephen Harper met with the Queen yesterday and presented her with a gift from Canada on the occasion of her 60th Jubilee. The gift Canada gave the Queen? A painting. Portrait. A painting portrait. Of her. The Queen. Canada gave the Queen a portrait of the Queen as a gift because no doubt she hasn't got one of those.

Polk wanted to know how the decision to give the Queen a portrait of the Queen came about. I told him it probably went something like this:

Governor-General on the phone with the Royal Secretary in Buckingham Palace: Okay, so here's what Canada's thinking...

RS: Not a hockey stick.

GG, Really? C'mon. Really?

RS: Really.

GG: It's signed by Tie Domi.

RS: I will hang up now. Please wait for Cedric to come on the line and give you the Royal Click.

Cedric: Click. I say.


GG calls Prime Minister Stephen Harper.

GG: Hockey stick's a no-go.

SH: It's signed by Tie Domi.

GG: I've got it! A human hair from every Canadian sewn together in the form of a Canadian flag.

SH: Remind me of why I appointed you Governor-General.

GG: In the event of an alien attack I was the only one to agree to have my head and arms surgically reconstructed to resemble that of a mole so that I can transport you and your family to safety far underground.

SH: I never asked you to do that.

GG: Of course not.

Long pause.

GG: Justin Beiber's saliva in a bottle shaped like the Canadian flag?  

Long pause.

GG: A glow-in-the-dark toque so when she gets up in the middle of the night it'll be easier to find the bathroom?

Long pause.

SH: Every year on our anniversary I get Laureen a portrait of me. Same pose. Same suit. Different tie. She always says, "Another portrait? Just what I need." Girls like portraits. Lets get her a portrait.

GG: That's an excellent idea. Of you?

SH: Make it the Queen. It'll be more of a surprise.

GG: Might I say, the Canadian people just don't understand the gift they've been given with you as their Prime Minister.

SH: I despise the Canadian people. Yet I love them. Can something so wrong be so right? I can answer that question but I prefer not to at this time.


Polk didn't believe a word. A glow-in-the-dark toque wouldn't emit enough light to illuminate the Queen's path to the bathroom. He tried it. He then reminded me of my outstanding invoice and hung up.

I made a coffee. 


Marlowe said...

I should be changing my password on my LinkedIn account according to your brother. I'm reading you instead. A better use of my time I'd say.

Garima said...