The throne speech you didn’t hear

Residents of this smiling land of ours, from Dildo to Dog Bay, were riveted last week to the throne speech, captivated by the promises made on behalf of the Furey government by Lt.-gov. Judy Foote, the reigning symbol hereabouts of that anachronistic and heredity-based system called the monarchy.

I mean to say, how could anyone not be enthralled by such poetic verbiage, composed by the very best of the government public relations types, those highly paid spin doctors whose raison d’être is to make their boss, Premier Andrew Furey, look good?

There wasn’t much that wasn’t covered: Prince Philip’s death, COVID, a token salute to Indigenous people, mental health, economic “strategies”, etc., etc., and hope, hope and even more hope, oozing from each and every page, no different from the kind of naive hope exuded in every throne speech since Confederation.

OK, I admit to perhaps an untimely exhibition of cynicism and sarcasm on this April weekend, a season, after all, of flowers and birds and love and all that good stuff.

But throne speeches can do that.

THE OTHER VERSION

In any case, if you thought there was only a single throne speech echoing off the walls of the legislature the other day, guess again. As has become his custom, my reliable source, Harbour Deep Throat, slipped under my door a transcript (saturated from rain, drizzle and fog, but fortunately still legible), of an alternative throne speech. It reads as follows:

Mr. Speaker and Honourable Members of the House of Assembly:

First of all, I am delighted to inform you that I have been texting Queen Elizabeth constantly over the last little while, and, yes, indeed, she’s mourning the death of Philip, her lovable but gaffe-prone husband.

Some anti-monarchists have reminded the public that Philip had a habit of making racially inappropriate remarks, Mr. Speaker, but the Queen told me her hubby was just being his mirthful self when he asked an Aboriginal person in Australia whether “they still threw spears at each other.”

So much journalistic poppycock, the Queen said.

Mr. Speaker and Honourable Members of the House of Assembly, now I’m sure all you gossip-mongers out there are wondering if the Queen mentioned anything to me about Harry and William and whether the silver-spooned, sparring brothers broke bread and discussed world poverty. But the Queen would only say she has forbidden her two grandsons from ever again watching “Coronation Street.” As Liz said (we continue to be on a first name basis, Mr. Speaker): “After all, they are starring in their very own soap opera, so viewing ‘Coronation Street’ seems somewhat superfluous.”

I was bold as brass, Mr. Speaker, and also inquired of the Queen how her No. 2 son, Prince Andrew, was handling the revelations of his friendship with the late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. But she ignored my question and changed the topic rather dramatically, and asked about celebrations that may have taken place in Newfoundland on the April 1st anniversary of her “oldest colony” joining Canada. (I thought I heard her chuckling, with a reference to April Fool’s Day; however, I may have been mistaken).

But, realizing, as I do, that plenty of people here still harbour a resentment towards Britain for the way it connived with Canada to force a shotgun wedding between Newfoundland and Canada — a “mixed marriage,” as it has been called — I balked at an answer, switched gears rather sharply myself, and asked where in the name of Moe, Larry and Curly her prime minister, Boris Johnson, gets his hair cut.

Elizabeth, though, wouldn’t go there, Mr. Speaker, except to say: “Odd fellow, that Boris.”

HERE AT HOME

Anyway, Mr. Speaker, enough of this foolishness about the ignominious ins and outs at Buckingham Palace. Oops, I didn’t really mean that. After all, I’m here because they’re there, if you will.

Mr. Speaker and Honourable Members of the House of Assembly: as to matters on the home front, I should warn MHAS they shouldn’t get too comfortable in their seats. I’m not permitted to get political, Mr. Speaker, but the elephant in the room is what some are calling the farce of an election (not my word, Mr. Speaker). Fact is, Mr. Speaker, I might be asked in the very near future to disband you crowd.

In the meantime, Mr. Speaker, I have a distinct feeling it is Dame Moya Greene who will have more of an impact on Newfoundland’s future than any throne speech, including the other presentation of prosaic platitudes I delivered in the House of Assembly last week.

Only time will tell, Mr. Speaker, whether the Dame — another connection to the monarchy, Ms. Greene having been honoured with Damehood by my friend Liz — will recommend that a financial sledgehammer be used to take care of Newfoundland’s economic woes.

And, Mr. Speaker, only time will tell, as well, whether the man who gave the Dame her mandate will have the ruthlessness — a lack of which one of his predecessors, Brian Peckford, cited as the reason for his resignation — to carry out whatever nasty measures the Dame believes will get the province back on the tracks.

Oh my, oh my, Mr. Speaker. Is it any wonder these throne speeches always conclude by practically begging “Divine Providence” to guide the legislature’s proceedings?

Even the atheists and agnostics among us are saying, what the hell, give the Lord a shot.

We’ve tried everything else.

I’m not permitted to get political, Mr. Speaker, but the elephant in the room is what some are calling the farce of an election …