It's the morning after. A day for candidates to either pat themselves on the back (never a shortcoming of any politician) or kick themselves a little lower in the same vicinity (never a habit of any politician). On this day of sober second thoughts, what, I wonder, will they record in their diaries? Let's take a peek.
Dear Diary: I know my writing is a bit shaky, but I've just had one heck of a night. That pesky little upstart with the boyish good looks and all those perfect teeth just about did me in.
Who knew missing all those meetings would make that much difference? Everyone knows I really take this riding seriously, don't they? How could they turn on me like that?
And Diary, did you hear that talking head on one of those know-nothing television stations declare Blair Wilson the winner? (Note to self: thank Yvonne for packing the smelling salts and clean underwear in my kit bag. Darn near needed both.)
Diary, I promise you, I will never, ever take this riding for granted again.
Sincerely, John Reynolds.
Dear Diary: Wasn't that a party? I had just the best time. Did we ever give those old (make that new) Tories a run for their money. I almost did it. I almost knocked JR out of the water.
Diary, I would have loved to be a fly on the wall when CBC announced I had won. I bet Reynolds will think twice about declaring cuts to CBC funding next time around. It really was sporting of him to miss so many meetings. It gave me, the new kid on the block, a fighting chance.
Diary, if I wasn't true-blue red, I'd say I was tickled pink.
Yours, Blair Wilson.
Dear Diary: Well I'm back to playing cello and telling jokes. Oh right, I never gave up doing either of those pleasures. In fact I think it was my quirky sense of humour and my snappy little grin that pulled in all those votes.
Just imagine how successful I'd have been without that nuisance Goldsmith taking potshots at me at all those meetings. The girl just wouldn't quit. What did I ever do to her? Doesn't she know we were green before they even got the crayon box? And that poll that supposedly said they could win this riding must have been conducted in a national park outhouse.
Cheers, Nicholas Simons.
Dear Diary: I'm going to have a busy day today - it's time to change all the names in my big binder. At last we can focus on the important election, the one coming next spring. Thank goodness for my computer. It will make deleting all those federal references so easy. And that nice function key will make inserting Gordon Campbell's name a breeze. Diary, I love machines. Mine is even green, my favourite colour.
P.S. If those NDP people think I was tough this time, just wait 'til they see me next May.
Ciao, Andrea Goldsmith.
Dear Diary: Defeated again. I hope I Never Again Feel This Angry - NAFTA. What were those foolish voters thinking? Don't they know I would make good on all my (okay, there were only two) promises?
And those big banks - free to do what they want to again. Why didn't those crazy Canadians listen to me? Now we'll never know what Paul Helyer's face would look like on a three-dollar bill.
Sadly, Marc Bombois.
Comrade Diary: Thanks for your support. It's about all I got.
Next time, Anne Jamieson.
