Into an Ottawa government office poured a distraught looking young woman carrying a load of files that she dumped on a desk near the door, which she then kicked shut with her foot. She turned and spoke to a slim, bespectacled, middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit standing behind a much larger desk near the window. “It’s crazy out there! Absolutely crazy!” she cried, advancing towards his desk. “You must be Dr. Dalrymple? The new psychiatrist the government’s hired?”
“Yes, and you?” asked Dr. Dalrymple, standing up.
“I’m a temp from the Legal Department: Dorothy Owens. I’m pleased to meet you.” They shook hands.
“My pleasure. Say, what’s going on out there, Miss Owens?”
“There are 60 screaming Liberals out there who think they should be the next prime minister of Canada.”
“Well, they all can’t be the prime minister,” observed Dr. Dalrymple, wryly.
“That’s what the fuss is all about. The government thinks they should all be given a psychiatrist test as to their suitability for the position.”
“What?! Do they agree?!” asked Dr. Dalrymple.
“They certainly don’t,” said Miss Owens. “That’s what all the screaming is about. They want Mr. Harper to take a psychiatric test, too. They won’t take the test until he takes one.”
“Will he?”
“No. Mr. Harper said: ‘Why should I – I’m already the prime minister.'”
“Is that why they’re banging on the doors and acting up like that?”
“Yes and it’s been going on for days. There’s no end in sight.”
“What happened to the former psychiatrist?” queried Dr. Dalrymple.
“He had a nervous breakdown.”
“I don’t blame him. I’m thinking of having one myself.”
“If they ever do agree to a psychiatrist test, it looks like a big work load ahead for somebody.”
“I can imagine. Where I come from – Kicking Horse Pass, just west of Lake Louise – 60 clients would keep me busy for three years.”
“Kicking Horse Pass is a beautiful area! Where’d that name come from?”
“It’s named after James Hector, a geologist, surgeon and member of an expedition. He was kicked by his horse while exploring the area. He darn near died and was almost buried alive.”
“Lucky! Dr. Dalrymple, I’m surprised that you would come here from such a beautiful place like Kicking Horse Pass.”
“I answered an ad in the paper and it seemed like a nice change of venue,” he replied.
“Yes, doctor, if you can’t stand heaven.”
“What I don’t understand is the federal Liberal party picking Ignatieff as their new leader. What are those guys doing out there?”
“Ignatieff hasn’t been cemented into office and in the meantime should he fall on his spear …”
“Who are those Benedict Arnolds?”
“Oh, they’re not Benedict Arnolds – they’re more like pretenders to the throne. Maybe we should look at a few of their resumes.”
“Are any of them pro-life?” said Dr. Dalrymple.
“Pro-life? If any of them are pro-life, they’re not going to tell anybody but God.” Miss Owen went over to her desk and picked a few resumes from the pile on her desk and brought them to Dr. Dalrymple.
“Here is Bob Rae’s resume, one of the more serious pretenders. Rae is still determined to be prime minister. Bungling Bob Rae brings a lot of baggage with him: ‘Rae Days’ – government employees working for nothing – financial screwup of Ontario’s finances – a socialist coming in from the cold. Many insiders consider Rae the culprit behind the defeat of the Liberal arty in the last election.”
“Rae? How’s that, Miss Owens?”
“Rae’s vaunted love and admiration for his longtime friend Ignatieff wouldn’t allow him to back off and let Ignatieff clinch the election for leader of the federal Liberal party.”
“What do you mean, Miss Owen?”
“Rae allowed it to become decided by a deal made by Stephane Dion and Gerard Kennedy and Dion won over Ignatieff in the final ballot. Then Dion lost a pile of Liberal seats and the election. There are a lot of Liberals out there who would like to see Rae named as the permanent ambassador to Tibet.”
“Give them back their folders, Miss Owens, and tell them that they were all equally qualified as good loyal Liberals. I can’t see any of these guys submitting to a psychiatrist test.”
“Me, neither. But where does that leave you?”
“I’m going back to Kicking Horse Pass. This job’s not for me. I’m going to sneak out the back door. I can hardly wait to get back to my three clients a week.”
