Britain Elects To Elect

To London, where my son Sebastian was opening a new clothing emporium on Bond Street. I was delighted to attend and support his endeavour, and drew his flair for skirts, dresses and blouses to the attention of appropriate people -- Kate, Sophie, Beatrice among others -- which would then obviate the need for Sebastian to spend any money on marketing. (Hello Hello!).

I was less delighted to hear from Sir Harry, with a request for some analysis of the upcoming British election, or in his terms, 'The running of the reptiles'. He was worried about the likelihood of what he termed 'a hung parliament'. The term bothered me for a bit until I realized that what he was referring to was a minority government. I explained that Canada was presently in that state, and that his worry was groundless. Canada was enjoying the best government it had had in years. Admittedly, the previous government headed by Jean Chretien set the bar exceedingly low, if not right out of existence. But still.

But what, he asked, of the contenders?

Nothing would do, I realized, but to sit down with each of them individually. Not difficult, when you are prepared to make a hefty campaign contribution. (I had hedged some sugar beet futures, and was, as they say, in funds.) Sir Harry, aided and abetted by my minder Irving, set up the arrangements. This involved posing as a British policewoman, and I was appalled when I got the uniform. I immediately shot over to Sebastian's and had it altered. The skirt hung like a drooping sail on some misbegotten sloop, and the buttons on the top were way too tight. And that bloody hat! An hour with Sebastian, however, and all was OK. Not Dior or Donna Karan, but it would do.

The two policewomen who accompanied me on this little side trip were impressed. Hah! I thought. This clothing upgrade might well surface as a bargaining chip as the next police union position was being formulated, and Sebastian might do really well. We will see.

The policewoman disguise worked like a charm, and avoided the tabloid exposure that would have resulted if I had met the contenders as myself. The headlines would have been grim, along the lines of 'Brown Sees Mistress?' 'Cameron's Love Interest?' or "Does Clegg Have A Concubine?' Believe me, the British tabloid press makes North American gossip look pale and wan in comparison, although TMZ does try.

The contenders were to be interviewed just prior to a campaign rally at various locations, and went off without tabloid mishap.

First, the PM, Gordon Brown. I found him to be quite nice, and found it hard to believe the stories of him as a quick-tempered bully. This demeanour began to break, however, when I was persistent in trying to find out his specific strategies for getting Britain out of its current fiscal mess (which he to some extent was responsible for). His eyes flashed, and I suddenly thought of defenestration, where I became an aide bearing bad news and was immediately tossed out the window. Things went somewhat downhill from there, and he began to resemble not so much a deer caught in the headlights as a woolly mammoth. My advice to him? LIGHTEN UP!

William Cameron was another thing entirely. Suave, urbane, with facts and figures at his fingertips. His philosophy, he stated, was grounded in Edmund Burke, to wit, 'Never exchange a certain good for a problematical perfect'. "And what we have now" he stated, "was not a certain good. Hence the need for change, for judicious belt-tightening, and a gradual decline in the national deficit." I questioned him at length on the how of all this, recalling Margaret Thatcher's remark to her Cabinet: "Don't tell me why. I know why. Tell me how!" Of course, I got nowhere with respect to specifics. But then, we are dealing with a politician.

Most impressive of all was Nick Clegg of the Liberal Democrats. He seemed to have a handle on all the issues, and had backed away from many of the earlier Lib-Dem shibboleths such as spending for good causes that were simply not affordable. If Britain was heading for Sir Harry's hung parliament, the "hung" part would be in good hands with Clegg.

Whether this helped Sir Harry or not is unknown -- feedback is not his strong suit -- but it will be the electorate, not myself or Sir Harry, that will determine the outcome. Although, in this regard, the words of Will Rogers bear repeating: "No matter who you vote for, the government gets in."

Too true.