Ross Murray: Mayor Rob Ford is at my house

Ross Murray: Mayor Rob Ford is at my house

By Ross Murray

I am the undisclosed location. I can’t give you the address, for legal reasons, but I’ve decided to come forward because it’s only a matter of time before the media discover that Mayor Rob Ford is undergoing rehab at my house. After all, this is the story of our time. It’s like reality television, except real.

Mayor Rob Ford checked in over a week ago. Well, when I say “checked in,” I mean “showed up at the door.”

“Lookit, I hope you can give me a place to stay and the help I need,” he said. “And a sandwich.” Naturally, I had no choice, mainly because he’s way bigger than me.

“I also admit,” Mayor Rob Ford added, “that I’ve been rolling around with your dog, and I sincerely, sincerely apologize for the damage to your lawn. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. What more do you want me to say? How many times do I have to say it?”

The apologizing went on for a while, but soon we had cleaned the clumps of sod and were settling Mayor Rob Ford in to begin his treatment. Our goal was simple: keep Mayor Rob Ford out of trouble. In retrospect, my house is the ideal location because my kids are always telling me it’s so-o-o-o bor-r-r-r-ring here.

Here’s a cute story: my daughter’s stuffed animals were spread all over the guest room bed, and I was starting to remove them when Mayor Rob Ford said, “No, no. Leave those. I could use a few friends.” And then he proceeded to pounce on the bed, make a nest out of the stuffed animals, turn around three times, curl up and go to sleep. In the morning, Mayor Rob Ford brought me three of the stuffed animals to dispose of. “Don’t ask,” he said.

I guess that story wasn’t as cute as I remembered.

The first couple of nights were rough. Mayor Rob Ford kept thinking I was a Toronto Sun reporter and putting me in a headlock, but, I have to tell you, a Mayor Rob Ford headlock is oddly soothing. He is, at heart, a gentle man – dare I say, a gentleman.

We set some ground rules, naturally. No alcohol. No guests. No leaving dirty socks on the sofa. No wiping toothpaste spit on the hand towel. No watching “Duck Dynasty.” Because that show’s just stupid.

There have been a few tense moments. For instance, we came down one morning and the entire contents of the fridge had been cleared out. “I swear it wasn’t me,” said Mayor Rob Ford. “The contents of the fridge could have disappeared on their own. What can I tell you? Anyone could have done that. Except me. I have never in my life raided your refrigerator.”

That’s when my daughter produced her cell phone and showed her video of Mayor Rob Ford staggering by the light of the fridge, eating ice cream with his bare hands, muttering something like “dragon sausage tango,” and doing an imitation of Christy Blatchford, which was spot on, by the way.

“Mayor Rob Ford!” I cried. “How can you not realize that everyone, everywhere, has a cell phone! Even here, where my children complain we have nothing cool.”

Then there was the day Mayor Rob Ford thought that the house was surrounded by paparazzi and began running around banging pot lids to scare them off. “It’s just the oil delivery guy,” I told him, which led to a frank discussion about not touching the thermostat, and that if Mayor Rob Ford is cold he should put on a sweater. So really, it was a good teaching moment.

Mostly, though, his stay has been uneventful. We play a lot of Scrabble. Mayor Rob Ford tends to play words that aren’t acceptable. When I call him on it, he dismisses it by claiming he was in a “state of abbreviation.” But I got “quiz” on a triple word, so I don’t care.

What else do we do? We watch the NBA playoffs, and I try to ignore Mayor Rob Ford when he calls it a “sissy” game. Meanwhile, he’s working his way through the works of Jane Austen, which just speaks to how complex a man he is. And, of course, naked wrestling.

Is he gassy? Yes, he is, but I like to think this is part of the healing process.

What’s important is that Mayor Rob Ford is getting the help he needs. I think I can speak for all Canadians when I say that Mayor Rob Ford’s not just rehabbing himself; he’s rehabbing our hearts.

Categories: News

About Author

Ross Murray

Ross Murray is an award-winning humorist and radio contributor and the author of two books ‘You’re Not Going to Eat That, Are You?’ and ‘Don’t Everyone Jump at Once’. Raised in Nova Scotia, Ross has lived in the Eastern Townships of Quebec since the early 1990’s with his wife Debbie, four children and far too many pets. After all this time, Ross feels comfortable calling himself a Townshipper; his neighbours call him something else.

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