They say it’ll cost what now to fix up 24 Sussex?!?
Even before Missus Harper can put down her last orphaned cat we’ve started to hear how the joint is “crumblin’” and unfit for Liberal habitation.
Well ain’t that just like a Trudeau. I remember when his daddy put in a swimming pool and jack-knifed Joe Taxpayer right in the pocketbook!
It’s a travesty. A travesty wrapped in an outrage inside an enigma.
Why does a PM even need an official residence? A piece of mail with a current address is all he has to have to vote for himself in Canada so let’s not go overboard. It’s not like we’re even a serious country.
Tony Blair, or whoever the hell Tony Blair is these days, makes do with a modest two up, two down. Of course Downing Street’s in a nice part of London so you don’t get much house there for your money.
But I bet we could set up our first family in a bachelor’s on Sparks Street and have enough left over to afford a parking space.
Sweet Ian Brown, I still can’t believe Trudeau won. Especially this Trudeau. I thought, sure, down the line, maybe the kid he had with Coyne stood a shot.
It’s like Canada’s taken a giant step back to the days of Magic Mike Pearson.
And we lost so many good people: everybody’s pal Joey Oliver; straight shooter Paul Calandra. And what kinda job do ya think Chris Alexander can get now?
Customer service is the only line of work that’s hirin’ and I worry he won’t be able to cut it.
He gave up a front-row seat at the trough in the foreign service to warn us about servicing foreigners and this is the thanks?
Not even a courtesy call from Carol Off?
He’s a hero in my book. Scrap that “Mother Canada” statue and build a monument to the man’s testy gumption.