Stephen Harper's love letter
My Dearest wife Laureen,
Greetings from the G8 summit! I sincerely hope this letter finds you agreeably well. My but it has been an exhausting trip! This past week I have found myself thinking constantly about you and our darling children, Benjamin and Rachel. I have frequently gazed upon your picture which I fondly keep tucked inside the wallet in my assistant's back pocket.
Gosh, but I miss you terribly. While things are going swimmingly for the cameras, behind the scenes it's a little different. The fact is that the other European leaders just don't seem to like me very much. It's not something I can put my finger on, it's very subtle. For instance, yesterday George and I were having a rousing discussion on how our respective medias are inexplicably against us. I noticed the German chancellor and French PM walking by, then one pointed to us and they both laughed. I don't understand! George doesn't understand either, but he seems resigned to it. Well, if they don't appreciate my commitment to cleaning up government, cutting the GST, getting tough on crime and gay marriage, then...well, the heck with them. I apologize for my profanity, dearest, but I'm just so frustrated.
However, at least George and I seem to have hit it off. Why, just yesterday he invited us to his ranch in Crawford, Texas! I'm so honoured I could just burst. I think he may even extend an invitation for Canada to join the war in Iraq. Golly, but how swell would that be? That would make me the hippest PM ever.
I will be home in two days. To be honest, I don't know if I can wait that long. I must confess to having rather intimate thoughts about you. Forgive my forwardness -- I had a glass of sherry with dinner and it's going to my head. I have been imagining how we could have the staff put the children to bed and have them light some candles for us. I gaze at you, your skin creamy like the cover of the Auditor General's report on Liberal corruption in Ottawa. Then, in a fit of passion I rip off my tie and engage in vigorous sexual intercourse with you. "Yes, Mister Prime Minister!", you scream. Afterwards, lying beside you while reading the latest economic forecasts, I drift off into a peaceful sleep, with sweet dreams of a majority Conservative government.
Love,
Rt. Hon. Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada.
Greetings from the G8 summit! I sincerely hope this letter finds you agreeably well. My but it has been an exhausting trip! This past week I have found myself thinking constantly about you and our darling children, Benjamin and Rachel. I have frequently gazed upon your picture which I fondly keep tucked inside the wallet in my assistant's back pocket.
Gosh, but I miss you terribly. While things are going swimmingly for the cameras, behind the scenes it's a little different. The fact is that the other European leaders just don't seem to like me very much. It's not something I can put my finger on, it's very subtle. For instance, yesterday George and I were having a rousing discussion on how our respective medias are inexplicably against us. I noticed the German chancellor and French PM walking by, then one pointed to us and they both laughed. I don't understand! George doesn't understand either, but he seems resigned to it. Well, if they don't appreciate my commitment to cleaning up government, cutting the GST, getting tough on crime and gay marriage, then...well, the heck with them. I apologize for my profanity, dearest, but I'm just so frustrated.
However, at least George and I seem to have hit it off. Why, just yesterday he invited us to his ranch in Crawford, Texas! I'm so honoured I could just burst. I think he may even extend an invitation for Canada to join the war in Iraq. Golly, but how swell would that be? That would make me the hippest PM ever.
I will be home in two days. To be honest, I don't know if I can wait that long. I must confess to having rather intimate thoughts about you. Forgive my forwardness -- I had a glass of sherry with dinner and it's going to my head. I have been imagining how we could have the staff put the children to bed and have them light some candles for us. I gaze at you, your skin creamy like the cover of the Auditor General's report on Liberal corruption in Ottawa. Then, in a fit of passion I rip off my tie and engage in vigorous sexual intercourse with you. "Yes, Mister Prime Minister!", you scream. Afterwards, lying beside you while reading the latest economic forecasts, I drift off into a peaceful sleep, with sweet dreams of a majority Conservative government.
Love,
Rt. Hon. Stephen Harper,
Prime Minister of Canada.
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