Early in the morning of the day after the summer solstice, James was reading the lead story of The Globe and Mail while sipping his coffee before leaving for work, which was a very long article about Cameron Duff, and took the form of an interview by Nia Aitt about his tactics. He liked her interviews, as she was always engaging and got to the point fast, as was the case here.
“I like to think of myself as a calm man, but that may belie what you see on C-SPAN,” says Cameron Duff.
“Those are simply theatrics, as you must understand about our system. I predict that the Prime Minister will not last much longer; his cabinet meetings are basically an elaborate game of chess played against imagined opponents, when he should perhaps be focussing on his real opponents, which include me. It reminds me of a captain steering through the fog and imagining icebergs. The fog is all in his mind, though. My shadow cabinet, on the other hand, is the most united that I have ever seen in parliament, and I have been a parliamentarian for thirty-three years. This united shadow cabinet, our united caucus, the freshness and vitality of our ideas will lead us to victory in the next election, I am confident of that.
“As for the specifics of strategy, I don’t plan one way or another on whether to vote this government down in a confidence measure, but given that this is a minority parliament, and given that there is a lot of room for disagreement, and given the corruption that has been festering these past four years, essentially since Meach took office, I would say there is a fifty-fifty chance that I will decide to pull the plug on this government in the next year. Basically, if they introduce good bills, we’ll vote for them. Saying this keeps the boys, and I use that term well advisedly, on their toes, and on the lookout for any poor behaviour in their ranks. One might think of it as a way of getting what we want. The Bloc and the New Democrats are also supportive of us, and there is a lot of room for agreement; like them, we support Canada’s numerous regions, which is important given that we are a regional country. Our three parties agree that there is some support needed for Canada’s industries to change and become more competitive, although we must always ensure that they remain the best, and not let government support run amok. And of course, like them, we believe that Meach and his cabal have become too complacent and corrupt, which speaks to a larger detachment and alienation from the people who elected them.”
Asked what his ideas were, he responded “Well, we plan to abolish payroll taxes, including Employment Insurance premiums and Canada Pension Plan premiums. There is a lot of talk going around right now about how those are not good ideas and where the money for funding Employment Insurance and the Canada Pension Plan will come from, but those people who advance these ideas forget that these accounts are merely notional; there is no bank vault filled with cash, nor is there a dedicated bank account. The funds can come from general revenue. I also plan to maximise the value of the work contributed by the public service. I think that those are all the promises I can afford to make to you right now, as you know ‘a week is a lifetime in politics’, and anyways, I’m not prime minister…yet. Additionally, I believe that the government punitively taxes wages, which is another reason for my advocacy of the abolition of EI and CPP contributions. When abolished, the cost of labour will become cheaper, and employment will be higher as a result.”
When asked further about corruption, Duff said, “It’s no secret, and I’ll leave it at that; I’m sure it will all come out soon enough, and I shall let you do your job to discover the rot.”
James trailed off from reading, distracted, and pondered the drama, which one might also call a circus, on the Hill. Talking down his opponent, as Duff was doing, was what all politicians do in an adversarial parliamentary system; while some of the footage of question period was amusing, it was entirely predictable. The real drama was in the Prime Minister’s office and home, and had all the characters of a soap opera. There was the indifferent, catlike wife in Cathaline Meach, the authoritarian Prime Minister who attempted to rule his fiefdom, that being his cabinet, with an iron fist, and then there were the rumours of in-cabinet intrigue and infighting. Given that cabinet meetings were secret, almost everyone wanted to know where the leaks were coming from. Some suspected the Minister of Defence, Mopps Sousa, known for making flowery and overwrought speeches that carried no meaning, or the Environment Minister, Beraj Bing-Witt, who was known for long speeches that put one to sleep, and when pundits dissected the meaning of said speeches, they were unable to find any; it was said by many that he was clueless in his portfolio. Others thought some disaffected staffer who felt downtrodden and needed a way to get back at their bosses was to blame. This might not be true, but the media was particularly fond of portraying it in this light. It could still be worse, he thought. At least there was no corruption that he knew of, or at least no evidence of such. The minority government and the raptor-like opposition probing for any sign of weakness are taking care of that.
He flipped to the editorial section, where there was a piece calling for fiscal responsibility and praising the current government for being prudent in this respect. That was when Clarissa joined him for breakfast.
“Hello there, you ready for your day?”
“Of course, Clarie. I’m also ready for tonight’s garden party. I would normally consider those rather boring, but I have a feeling something will go down.”
“So do I; Belinda’s coming, and you know how Belinda and booze get along. I can picture her dancing on tables right now.”
“I was thinking along a different line; you’ll find out,” replied James, finishing his breakfast, which had consisted of bacon, brioche swimming in butter, a coffee, and a glass of milk, of which only crumbs and dregs remained with a spot of grease on a small plate.
For James, work that day consisted of finding a new customer to fill in the hole left by Omega Faucets, which was almost certainly going to go bankrupt, and in work on a number of other files, including Inxton Car Seats and several others. He wondered what the faucet maker’s troubles were, considering he had seen many taps and spigots with the Omega insignia, and they had diversified into toilets and sinks in addition to their usual product line of faucets and showerheads; the company was Colleen’s file, and she was reticent about it due to its impending demise. “Why didn’t they foster customer loyalty?” she muttered to herself.
James went to Hartman’s, just as he did three times a week, to pick up some fruit and olives, and with this obeisance to healthy eating done, he went to the snack aisle for some potato chips, which he ate on the way home. They would be enjoying a light dinner of pasta salad, which had been chilled in the fridge, because they were both going to David’s garden party later that night; he and his wife Pia had reputations as good hosts, and even though they had a son, they had not slowed down, and he was sure they would surpass themselves as usual with the salty foccacia that was Pia’s specialty; he always ended up having four or five slices of that.
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