Carolyn Parrish, you'll have to forgive me, but you're an idiot. In fact, I think it's safe to say it's bastards like you that really put the pebbles to the wheels of diplomacy. What were you thinking?! You actually think telling the truth is what you're paid to do? Or have you simply lost what little mind you had? If you would bother to check the fine print you'd find that honesty and freedom of expression are not part of an MP's job description.

Assuming you can read...no, you're probably illiterate.

Well, perhaps it's just as well, because if I were you I certainly wouldn't want to read some of the things being said about you lately, including the fact that your boss is apparently intent on putting you on the first flight out to Mars, which is what happens when a person in your position does something silly like speak her mind in public.

Look what happened to Stockwell Day. The poor man still gets sent Barney dolls for Christmas.

Just because the majority of Canada is as stunned as you are over the Electoral Shock of the Century is no reason to go around being bluntly honest. If nothing else, saying George Bush is warlike is about as useful as telling the members of a kennel club that wet retrievers smell bad. Everybody knows it and there's nothing to be done other than to hope that male menopause might calm him down a little.

That and regular bathing...for the retrievers, I mean.

We still have to get along with these people, and while you may like your friends to be honest and say you're fat when asked how you look, that is no reason to assume that America wants to be told that.

I mean, statistically, they are, but that's not really the point.

Do you think Paul Cellucci, US Ambassador to Canada, actually enjoys putting on a big happy face every day and running around Ottawa pretending to like this little northern backwater he's been relegated to? Of course not, and some days I suspect he's even entertained a thought or two about immediate annexation when his coffee arrives a little too cold for his liking.

But he doesn't say it, does he? He uses words like "dismay," "concern" and "consternation" to point out that we're one step away from being turned into the world's largest football field. It's polite, leaves room for discussion, and doesn't shock one into choking on one's breakfast bagel when reading about it in the morning paper.

Besides, Carolyn, there are a goodly number of Americans who could use a hug right now: 50 million distraught Democrats deciding between slitting their wrists and watching another night of Jeopardy. And I don't know about the Parrish household, but when there are dark thoughts like that brewing in my house, the last thing I want is my neighbour bitching over my choice of bedroom sheers.

It's going to be hard enough convincing the powers that be in Washington that our cows aren't completely mad without them wondering whether we are. And while everyone has wanted to tell off a customer at least once in their life and suggest how high they might want to run their skivvies up a flagpole, business 101 suggests it's not generally the greatest idea if things like a positive bank balance are of any interest.

Especially when the customer is a ten-ton elephant with a bad temper who is just as likely to trample you as pay you.

Admittedly, Carolyn, I'm not all that fond of bad-tempered elephants either, but I usually don't go out and kick one directly in the nuts when it's getting on my nerves. I leave that to experts, people who know how to keep them calm, soothe their angry hearts, and see if they can't get them to do more than squash the flowers in the backyard. It takes patience, consideration, and occasionally heavy sedation, but it can be done.

So please use what little brains God gave you, woman, and shut up before you choke on your foot and have us in the middle of a stampede.

Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if I could ask a little favour....

What do you mean, no? Jeez, Carolyn, I was just being honest.