A new lie detector

Frank Kennedy, Queen's Park Ontario

I've got a new job.

I'm a salesman flogging a new, Canadian, self-administering lie detector. It is aimed almost exclusively at the politicians' market. This machine is patterned on the "Are-you-too-drunk-to-drive?" gizmo that prevents you from starting your car after you have imbibed a fair bit - say, six Scotches straight up.

Since the Ontario government was cracking down on drunk driving, I suggested to Attorney-General Charlie Harnick that a better solution to the problem is to make everybody who drinks too much a cabinet minister, and have his chauffeur drive him home. (I'm still waiting to hear from Charlie.)

This lie-detector machine is fantastic! The idea behind it is to break people off the bad habit of telling lies. Politicians are quick to agree that lying is one of their greatest failings. (That is, they're quick to agree after they've had a few drinks.) The machine clangs loudly when you tell a big lie. Stonewalling, meanwhile, prompts the "bird" - a sharp piercing sound that can cause your dog to leave home permanently.

Evade a question and a hand will reach out and pepper-spray you. (This hasn't worked too well, though, and there are some lawsuits coming up.) The lie detector works on the same principle as taking blood pressure.

I decided to start at the top and work my way down. I had no trouble getting a private audience with Jean Chretien. I told Eddie Goldenberg, his doorkeeper, that I had a lie-detector machine that would change the course of history.

Jean Chretien just loved the idea of a machine that would detect when politicians were lying and was anxious for me to get one over to Preston Manning.

I suggested that before he recommended it to Preston, he should try it out himself. I assured him that I just wanted to ask some innocuous questions. Chretien reluctantly agreed, saying, "Have these questions been cleared with Eddie?"

"Yes," I lied. "Eddie said that you would be in no trouble answering these questions." (If I was attached to a lie detector machine, I wouldn't have been able to get away with telling a whopper like that.)

"Shoot," said Chretien.

"At Vancouver's APEC summit last year, did you ask the RCMP to make sure there were no protesters to be seen at the University of British Columbia when Suharto arrived?"

Chretien looked most uncomfortable, before replying stoutly, "No."

The bells clanged so loudly I thought there had been a prison outbreak. Eddie Goldenberg charged into the office. I quickly shut off the machine and apologized for the noise.

"It's all right, Eddie," said Chretien. "I'm testing dis machine out for Preston Manning. Den the whole world will know dat he is a big liar."

Eddie left and I resumed my questioning. "Did you ever intend to scrap the GST after you were elected?"

Chretien paused before replying firmly: "Yes." Another loud outburst of clanging bells propelled Eddie Goldenberg into the room. Once again I shut off the machine hurriedly and apologized profusely for all the noise it was making.

"Don't worry, Eddie, it's all right. Dis machine is going to catch dat Preston Manning in a lie and he's going to be chopped liver. Den we will take every seat west of Ontario border."

Eddie left and I resumed my questioning. "Do you think that you give a higher priority to trade with despotic dictators then you do to human rights?"

"Dat's a loaded question," said Chretien. "I'd rather not answer it."

A loud, shrill, bird-like scream filled the Parliament buildings in Ottawa, arousing many civil servants from their sleep. Eddie vaulted into the room, clearly worried about the situation.

"Trust me, Eddie, with dis lie detector machine, Preston's horse will be cooked. Everybody will know he's stone-walling," said Chretien.

Eddie left, unconvinced, and I wrapped up my questioning. "What do you say about the memos written prior to the APEC summit, asking if Indonesian officers would be permitted to shoot Canadian protesters? The answer they were jokingly given was: ‘No. In Canada, it is customary for the leader of the country to grab the demonstrators in a choke-hold.'"

Chretien replied disdainfully, "I don't comment on hypothetical situations."

A hand reached out and pepper-sprayed him.