Article content continued

Whether it was guilty of anything other than being an elephant — a notoriously ravenous and stubborn creature not usually considered suitable for office life, and therefore generally not actively recruited into it — has yet to be determined, but there it was, looming large, making an elephantine nuisance of itself.

According to highly placed sources within my imagination no sooner would Nigel Wright, Stephen Harper’s then chief of staff — and erstwhile elephant whisperer — open up his laptop to send someone an email, usually concerning the elephant issue, than a trunk would reach down and gently but firmly push it closed.

Nigel would sigh and the elephant would flap his ears in a way some people apparently find winsome and party-donation-inspiring.

The Prime Minister would walk through. “Working hard, Nigel?” he’d say, not diverting his course one step, but instead limboing expertly under the elephant because he never saw it.

“Yes! And not on anything elephant-related!” Nigel would say, reopening his laptop again, and this time his chequebook, tossing the elephant a banana from his own lunch.

“Wonderful!” the Prime Minister would respond approvingly, pausing on his way out the door to brush the elephant dung off his shoe with a, perhaps exaggerated, perplexed shrug.

“Sorry, Prime Minister,” the ever-loyal Nigel might say as the elephant closed his laptop again.

The Duffy trial reveals that various elephant management strategies were attempted in the PMO. At first when people asked questions about the elephant, the elephant was defended. “It’s a great elephant,” it was argued, “a species native to P.E.I. rarely seen in these parts. You should spend more time admiring him for the noble creature he is and less time quibbling about the peanut budget, it’s peanuts. Just lots and lots of peanuts.”