“Look: all I’m saying is that it’s probably no coincidence that Belinda Stronach’s initials are BS.”
“That’s all you’re saying?”
“That’s right.”
“Cause I don’t think I could carry the rest of the show by myself.”
“Well, of course that’s not all I’m saying.”
“Oh. Phew.”
“Dick, when you were born, did the doctor apply just a little too much pressure on the forceps?”
“That would explain the two holes on either side of my head, Dick.”
“You mean, the ones other than your ears?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Well, if Stronach really didn’t believe that it was necessary to have an election at this time, she could have protested in ways other than joining the Liberals and being given a cushy cabinet position.”
“Absolutely. She could have burned her ballot.”
“It was a voice vote, numbnuts.”
“Okay, then. She could have burned her vocal cords.”
“Do you listen to yourself with the holes in your head, because you don’t seem to listen to yourself with your ears.”
“Ooh, nice callback.”
“She could have become an Independent.”
“Sounds like she was already too independent. Just ask Peter MacKay.”
“Hey, don’t shed any tears for Peter MacKay. He spent several months shagging a rich babe -“
“A rich, blonde babe.
“With big hooters. Not that they’re real.”
“They’re not?”
“Come on. You think anything in politics is real?”
“Wow. Is this a great country, or what?”
“Because a woman can have breast enlargement surgery?”
“Because we can talk about it on the radio. You think they could talk about Stalin’s breast implants on Russian radio when he was in char – why are you shaking your head?”
“Can we stick to the subject, please?”
“Breast augmentation and politics – wasn’t that the subject?”
“Sigh. Now, you know I love Dolores very much, and I would never leave the mother of my children. But, hot damn, if Belinda Stronach – with her breasts in whatever condition they’re in – were to walk in here right now, I would -“
“Hello, boys.”
“Humina humina.”
“Hey, Belinda. Funny thing: Dick and I were just talking about you.”
“Humina humina.”
“So I heard. I’m trying to figure out what the size of my breasts has to do with my job as a Member of Parliament.”
“Well, ahh, you see, ahh, Dick, do you wanna handle this one?”
“Humina humina.”
“When Scott Brison left the Conservative Party to join the Liberals, I don’t recall you fellows making jokes about the size of his balls.”
“Humina huminahh wait just a minute, there, Belinda. We do not make fun of the size of men’s genitals on this programme.”
“Except mine.”
“Except Dick’s. It’s in his contract.”
“Why?”
“Emasculation of sidekicks is an integral part of the humour of the programme.”
“You should hear what he says about the interns.”
“No, I meant why don’t you make fun of the size of men’s genitals?”
“Because there is nothing inherently funny about the size of a man’s genitals.”
“I can think of lots of funny things about the size of a man’s genitals.”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT A MAN!”
“Nice little club you’ve got going here, Dick. Tell you what. How would you like it if I asked the CRTC to consider making the daily comparison of men’s genitals on this show a condition of the station’s licence?”
“YOU…WOULDN’T…DARE!”
“Can you do that?”
“Naah. I just like watching Dick turn purple. It’s a good look for you, Dick.”
“I can think of a number of good looks for you, too, Belinda. Like under my -“
“Oh, look at the time. Gotta fly. Got a government department to run, don’t you know. It was a pleasure being here. Bye.”
“Nice lady.”
“Shut up.”
“You kind of wish her well as a Liberal.”
“I said: shut it.”
“Not at all what I expected her to be from what people were say -“
“WHAT PART OF SHUT THE [BLEEP] UP DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”
“Well, let’s see. Shut…the…[BLEEP]…up – I’d say it’s pretty clear, Dick.”
“This just illustrates something I’ve been saying for years: women shouldn’t be allowed in politics.”
“Why’s that?”
“They don’t know how the dos and don’ts of being on the media…”