“I pity Little Scotty Brison. He is Weak. Bottom-line: I Will Eat His Lunch For Him."

Hon. Paul Martin, Warrior

I cannot wait until the December Convention. I am really excited. I can already picture the scene: The victor, having finally triumphed on December 3 , glowing with pride and power, yet immensely tired from the gruelling 9 month ordeal, will wave to the crowd and then retire to his hotel room to bask in the adulation of his family. He will sleep the good slumber of the conqueror. And on the morrow he will awake and face me in open combat for the leadership of the Liberal Party.

Did you think I would go so softly into that good night? Have you learnt nothing from the past? Power within the Liberal Party cannot be given; it must be pried from cold, unrelenting fists after an all-or-nothing power struggle that leaves the party, and the contestants, spent and useless. At least that’s how I got here. And I’ll be damned if some young whippersnapper is going to simply be given the laurels. How foolish the National Committee was in giving 9 months for the leadership review, it has only given me the time to train and become stronger. I am now at the height of my powers, so come young champion, whoever you may be, the time for testing has begun. Open the Thunderdome loyal Liberal. Two people will enter, but only one will leave. And that person will be me.
When not in the gym or mixing protein shakes I spend my free time daydreaming about my possible opponents and the different strategies I will have to employ in order to maintain my place at the summit of the Liberal Food Chain. I encourage all contenders to read my thoughts below, as point out their weaknesses. Ask not who the Paul tolls for presumptive champion, he tolls for thee

I pity Scotty Brison . He simply does not have the street-savy necessary to win against a small Liberal child, let alone a battle-hardened vet such as myself. He grew up as a Conservative, and therefore never learned the how to fight dirty, tooth-and-nail, Liberal-style. I spent most of my life duking it out with a street-fighter from the back-alleys of Quebec, and as such will no doubt finish Scotty quite early. Run Scotty. Run home to the East Coast and save yourself. Maybe in time you will learn the ways of the Liberals, but today is not that day. And that goes for you too Bob. The NDP taught you how to share, but did they teach you Tae-Bo? The answer is sadly “Non”, or so you can understand, “No”.

Dion. Ah Stephen. I long to meet you in the Ring of Champions. We will taunt each other in both national languages “Bring it my Petite Foi” to which you will reply “Suck it, noir canard”. I will howl as I leap, naked and greased, upon you. Let us face the facts, you are too spindly for this fight my friend, the weak portfolios you have been given have made you soft like a baby lamb. Your eye sight is gone, you are spent. Leave this fight for tigers my little lamb-friend.

Belivacqua, It was you I feared the most old friend. You, who rose from the bottom like the tiger-fish you were, who knew no allegiances and kept your own council. I bow to you good sir, for take away the grease and the tridents from my other opponents and they are just people; you sir were a wild boar intent on goring me. I am glad you have withdrawn; go forth into the world and multiply, the Liberal Party of Canada has need of your seed.

Martha Findley Hall. Who are you mystery woman? I have Wikipedia’ed you and I am still left in the dark. I know not who you are, nor from whence you came, but you are a Liberal and ergo I grudgingly respect you. Prepare yourself masked-one, for I am an equal-opportunity ass-kicker. So listen hard Ms. Bennett, and Ms Fry: Ding Ding. It is on.

Finally, I would like to thank my sponsors, Xyience and Gatorade. To my unlucky competitor, I look forward to an orderly and well televised death-match. To all you kids out there remember: just because you’re down, it doesn’t mean you’re out. Sort of like Rocky III. Remember Rocky III? Good show.

Sincerely Paul Edgar Philippe Martin,
Phoenix Rising