In a surprise move after a heated community meeting, Imperious Affluence Estates board member Gord Gordunstoun made a statement in support of a proposed regulation which would outlaw the use of the Balaclava in the exclusive subdivision.
“…A number of residents have pointed out that burglaries are up in 2018 nation wide. Although Imperious Affluence Estates has never had a burglary in its 17 year history, my research over several years, delving into resources as varied as Matlock, TJ Hooker, Mannix and Streets of San Francisco have shown that all burglars wear black Balaclavas. I believe making black Balaclavas illegal will reduce or totally stop burglaries.”
A very small group opposing the move have protested, chanting,“If Balaclavas are Outlawed, Only Outlaws Won’t Freeze While Shoveling Walks in Adherence of Zealously Enforced Neighbourhood Rules Controlling the Behaviour of Literally Every Aspect of Every Resident’s Life Thereby Creating Red Herrings That Divert Attention Away From Accusers Whose Lives Are an Empty, Sad, Unfulfilled and Creatively Destitute Pit of Disappointment and Envy.” Even their small cadre of timid supporters have pointed out that the rallying cry ‘is hard to remember’.
Dr Evelyn Wow, professor of Political Sciences at McGill University points out, “They really need something with more scansion. Something with a ring to it. It reminds me of those heady college days at Bowdoin when I joined-in chanting ‘Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh’. Now that had rhythm!” It was reported that at that moment she went into quite a frisson of excitement. Dr Wow spoke at length but our reporter stopped taking notes, although he did make a cryptic notation in the margin about ‘finding a good Pho joint after this old bat stops yammering’.
Board Secretary Hedy McNoseinit said that if the Balaclava is to be outlawed then there should be some kind of crackdown on toques. Mike Rogerson, a consultant brought in to examine whether personal taste can be dictated by board fiat put forward the thought that toques and burglaries are not correlated, although he believed a cases might be made for toques and rudeness. Not being a member of the board he was asked to shut his festering gob. He stormed out angrily, knocking a ballcap off the head of a man present at the meeting. The hat read, ‘I Got Leid in Hawaii‘ yet it was judged acceptable in this setting because he is husband of the Chairwoman, and has recently suffered a series of mini-strokes. No one knew how this might be germane to Mr Rogerson’s protest, if at all.
At that juncture retired Mountie Constable McKenzie, late of of the local detachment’s internal affairs dep’t, there on unrelated business and for some inexplicable reason dressed in full ceremonial red serge uniform stood up. Face twitching alarmingly, he proclaimed loudly that the Mountie Hat, made ‘lovingly of the finest rabbit fur and patent leather’, was the ONE & ONLY hat that has ‘never committed a crime’. Sweaty and raving yet with a fairly Shakespearean delivery he pronounced his hat as a symbol of ‘the greatness of this land’, which, he claimed, ‘Hath bequeathed unto us the gladdest tidings of weal and golden harmony’. Holding it high like Yorick’s skull he climaxed dramatically, moaning, ‘Alas…Alas…’ Then, gazing at it awestruck he began singing “This Land is Your Land” with the adapted Canadian lyrics, including shout-outs to Bonavista & the Arctic Circle, clearly oblivious to the irony that it is an American song. A reporter from the ‘Campfire Primer‘, his years of in-depth reportage serving him well, tripped upon the astute observation that the Constable was singing to a hat. The gathering eventually concurred with the exception of one amateur Lifestyle and Anti-Gluten blogger, new to Imperious Affluence Estates, who could not shake her attention from his jodhpurs, which she called ‘Mountie Pants’, that in her view made his ‘ass look big’.
The paramedics were summoned and the meeting continued apace, even though an elderly man in a Balmoral and hospital gown shuffled around the perimeter of the hall, warning one & all about the ‘approaching Hun’.
A visiting millennial hipster, nephew of Mrs Wickersham-Notley, not to be outdone brought attention to his bald head which was nicely countered by a luxuriant beard of at least 10 inches in length.
Dressed in the suit jacket he wore at his first Middle School dance (size – ‘youth large’) and referring to himself as ‘DickDub’ he began his statement with a drawn out, “Soooooooo……”, and went on to explain that he and his people feel threatened, want laws introduced to prohibit snickering (‘not cool’, he sagaciously pronounced), and have recently petitioned the Federal Gov’t, having gathered 15,000 e-signatures. They specifically requested an apologetic public crying jag by the Prime Minister during Question Period. At time of writing they have been put on a cancellation list.
When advised that his statement was not germane to the Balaclava discussion, he tartly replied, “What. Ever.”
An ad hoc reactionary group of Flappers calling themselves ‘The Trotting Foxes’, who meet on Tuesdays at 10am rain or shine in the corner of the Neighbourhood Centre nearest the tea kettle, and known for their attempts to re-popularize the Cloche tried to steal the spotlight by using a battery of loud banjos vamping the Charleston. To the surprise of all a squad of Great-Coated police in Bobby Helmets and with huge mustaches cleared them out in jerky fast-motion. The police bumped into each other on more than one occasion. One of them ducked under a ladder, carried by a roaming painter there for no apparent reason, just in the nick of time. It was reported that a Tack Piano was heard playing although this report cannot be verified.