Rob Ford: (Picks up phone) Yello?
Gregor Robertson: Hey Rob, it’s Gregor … Robertson. The mayor of Vancouver? Uh, British Columbia …
Ford: Oh, hey Greg, how’s it going?
Robertson: Just swell, thanks. You?
Ford: Dude, I could pee right now, I’m so jazzed. You hear about my football team?
Robertson: Uh, yeah, that’s kind of why I’m calling. Congratulations! Nice work. Go Eagles!
Ford: Go Eagles! Damn right. We’re taking this one all the way.
Robertson: Yeah, well, I’m pretty proud of our team as well.
Ford: You coach too?
Robertson: No, heh, heh. No. I’m talking about our B.C. Lions. They appear to be doing quite well.
Ford: Look, Gary, I’m kinda busy here – what can I do you for?
Robertson: Ah yes, the rigours of office, eh? Heavy is the head that wears …
Ford: No, I’ve got, like, 35 “Division Champ” patches to iron onto these jerseys before the next game. Plus, now I’ve got to book a bus.
Robertson: I see that you got into a, uh, little hot water with that one, huh?
Ford: Wasn’t me, man. The cops asked for the buses, not me. I only called the TTC chief to ask what the hold-up was. And the cops were there anyway on account of the fight between the coach and the ref.
Robertson: Hey, we do the same thing here. If there’s an apartment fire or something and people need to be evacuated, or a hazmat thing and the weather is bad, the police can call in a bus and use it as a shelter. We do it all the time.
Ford: See, exactly! I’ve been trying to explain that to these pinheads here for a week. It was raining and there’s no way I’m leaving Lenox – or anybody else – out there in the rain with an even bigger game ahead. You seen that kid run?
Robertson: But did you really kick 50 passengers off a bus so it could pick up your team?
Ford: Two buses. Again, not me – the police and the TTC worked that out. It was a good game.
Robertson: Don’t people mind you missing, like, council and stuff so you can go coach football? I mean, try to take a 10-minute yoga break around here to get centred and you’ll have the city manager banging down your door.
Ford: Sure, they gripe about it. Like I told the papers though, I have a job to do. And that job is making sure this team makes it to the final. They’re always looking for something. You know, me reading in the car, talking on the phone while I’m driving, calling 911 on a reporter who’s snooping around public property, running away from the cameras – everything’s a story around here.
Robertson: Don’t I know it. That’s why I called. I mean, this stuff has got to be grinding you down.
Ford: No, not all. Why would it? It’s not like I’m Gerry Tremblay or something. Now there’s a guy who’s really hooped.
Robertson: I know; I’m calling him next.
Ford: Get mixed up with those connected guys and this stuff all starts to look like small potatoes. People ask questions about the way I do my job and I just point east up the 401 to Montreal and say, “Pardonnez-moi?”
Robertson: That doesn’t work for me. I point east and I get Nenshi.
Ford: What’s that guy’s deal anyway?
Robertson: You haven’t met? He was at the Big City Mayors meeting in the summer.
Ford: Yeah, I took a pass on that one.
Robertson: But I guess you’re right. What Tremblay’s going through sort of puts things in perspective, eh? Like, I’m taking a lot of heat right now because we might put drink carts on public golf courses. It’s so complicated.
Ford: Uh huh.
Robertson: But I keep thinking about what Gérald said the other night when he quit. He said, “The success of our city is much more important than my personal interest.”
Ford: Whatever. I gotta go. I got these uniforms.
Gregor: Namaste, Rob.
Ford: Go Eagles!
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