By Eddie Cornwallis
Last week, per usual, I dropped by the Bunker to pick up my pittance as per my usual biweekly contribution to the enterprise.
What I experienced can best be described as surprising, possibly shocking.
By George, my last column of the calendar year, and what should I write about?
Well, just this morning I sneezed coming out of the bath and I thought I could chronicle that episode and post it to Frank Magazine for payment.
As a good BBC man, and a mere observer of goings-on across the pond, I should have little to say about Canada’s public broadcaster, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
Heaven forbid my detractors from the colonies, of which there are many, accuse me of meddling. Moreso, from a considerable distance and in an age when it’s no longer fashionable for one to speak one’s mind.
Buckle up boys and girls, I’m going off.
The insistent hand-wringing, navel-gazing, and “reaching out” over gun violence in Halifax has reached epidemic proportion. Everybody and their dog is reaching out, crying out, “Stop it!”
I happened to drop by the Frankland Bunker on the afternoon of Friday, November 4, to pick up me few bob for me fortnightly contributions to the enterprise.
It happened to be the same day that Frank managing editor Andrew Douglas had the Sword of Damocles removed from over his head.
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