“I cannot table it with care, that lost Report’s not anywhere”

A column I wrote in 2002 for the National Post, in the style of Dr. Seuss, on the occasion of Government House Leader Don Boudria losing a report.

The news was bad. It’d cause a stir. The guy who told him called him Sir.

Said: “Sir, we’re in a little fix. We’ve lost a Report in the mix.

“It’s not a big one, really. Still, the government’s out half a mil.

“And we can’t find it anywhere. Can’t find a trace, no not a hair.

“So we must send you to the House, defenseless as a little mouse.”

Oh, this was bad. This would not do. The Boss Himself had told him,

“You must clean things up! Like Spic & Span! Cleaner than Alfonso can!”

And now he was right up the creek. Without a paddle! Things were bleak!

“Don’t ‘Sir’ me now!” he told the guy. “Just find that thing. Look low! Look high!

“Perhaps you’ll find it in a house. Or was it eaten by a mouse?

“You have to find it soon, by damn. Or they will call me Scam-I-Am!”

They sent him Memos from their search. They looked in Bloo and Zizzer-Zurch.

They vacuumed closets in Big Snee. They emptied Desks One, Two and Three.

They didn’t find it, not a trace. That Report wasn’t anyplace!

So off he went, into the House. He quivered there, just like a mouse.

The Opposition’d have his head! His political career was dead!

And then, a Voice was in his ear. Nobody there, yet he could hear —

A Voice so clear, so plain as day. It said “Look, Don, I know a way

“To get through this. It just might work. Just act like you’re a brazen jerk!

“Blame them for everything they ask. Make grilling you a thankless task!”

That’s all it said. The Voice was gone. But on the mustached face

of Don a smile appeared. Yeah, that’s the trick! Just act like a Self-Righteous Snick!

The Speaker spoke. He humphed his humph. He lumphed his Loopa-Listic Lumph.

“The Question Period is now.” And then he bowed a little bow.

And up they rose then, one by one, to try to have a little fun

At Don’s expense. But he was prepped! At sneaky tricks he was adept!

So when they asked for the Report, he simply answered with a snort:

“I just don’t have it. And I’m mad. But I can’t help it. It’s too bad.

“I can’t give you that lost Report. Not it nor any other sort.

“I cannot table it with care. That lost Report’s not anywhere!”

Oh, they were chuckling at him now. But he’d win anyway! Here’s how:

Inside his chest his gall now grew. It grew an extra size or two.

In seconds, this man’s gall was stunning. He’d turn the tables! Get them running!

“Hey, what’s your problem anyway? I told you this Report was stray!

“Nobody’s perfect, don’t you know? So one Report’s been lost. Yeah, so?

“We’ll find another one for you. They’re all the same, with covers blue.

“Or sometimes pink, green or vermilion. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen a million!

“I’ll table one that isn’t lost. That’s my new spirit! Don’s glasnost!

“You want the right one? Well, too bad! I’m tabling one — you should be glad!

“You Opposition types are rich. You’re all the same, just bitch, bitch, bitch.

“We’re the ones who run the show. I would have thought by now you’d know!

“So eat what’s fed you! Take a pill! I run the Parliamentary Hill.”

With that he sat. Across the way, the non-Grits knew not what to say.

They thought they knew gall. They knew squat! Their line of argument was shot.

So Don was champion once again! He’d beat them with his clever brain.

He loved his life! This was a thrill! And it only cost us half a mil.