So, fourty-five minute later, Rae zips onto the golf course. I had to slap him around a bit, of course, for being so late, then I let him pick the apple skin from between my teeth. "Much better." I sighed, "Now, don't go taking that back to Queen's Park and throwing it out there. You have enough of a trash problem as it is."
So I let Bob be my caddy for the rest of the game, and got a chuckle out of the way he had grown pale and the amount of sweat that seemed to not so much as seep but rather gush out of his pores. Then, later, as he served us drinks, I decided that I could give him a short lecture. "Bob, I know I've told you before that you're a moron, but I want to make sure you understand this. You are a class A reject. If you hadn't stacked your cabinet with the human worms that you did, you might never have gotten into this mess. Now you've lost every meagre bit of respect you ever once commanded. Look at Mr. Chin over here," I said, pointing to my guest, Mulroney, who looked a bit hurt at the light-hearted jab, "He's a fascist goon who has gleefully ridden our fine nation to the ground, but at least his cabinet ministers rarely get caught being slime. Except Ms. Campbell, of course, but then, I liked that picture of her. Showed a bit of humanity. Well, showed a bit of flesh, but flesh is human. Twas tasteful. And it wasn't done for the Toronto Sun, unlike Kronos, or Kormas, of whatever the hell that pig-rimming swine's name was. Of course, Ms. Campbell is scum, but classy scum. But I digress. Still, it would be nice to see Mila or even Arlene showing a bit of flesh now and then. Maybe a cute dyke shot for Madonna's next book. But again I digress."
I paused and had Rae fetch me another glass of Perignon, then continued. "Now, I know that you want to just get on with the advice you've come begging for, but let's face it, you've dug yourself into such a hole, you'll probably next get out of it. I say can your whole cabinet and start again. Now get out of my face, you're sweating on me."
Once the premier left, looking dejected and broken, I turned to Brian and had Rocco and Guido hold him down while I pulled out a Black & Decker PowerTweezer. "Sorry, Brian, old buddy," I said, "but I feel the sudden need to painfully yank out one of your eyebrow hairs for every stupid, mean, malicious thing you've ever said and done. When I finish, I'm going to peirce your ears with a staple gun and see how you deal with the press in those circumstances. I wouldn't suggest any retalitory actions. I know high people in Harvard and you wouldn't want to see Carolyn fail every course she's in, now would you? Don't worry, this won't hurt more than excruciatingly."