Mr. Chesterton and Mr. Harper

Someone described the rotund British novelist G.K. Chesterton one time as "a man of infinite vest." Note, faithful readers, I quote this from memory, foregoing even a simple Google search to confirm the quote's veracity or source. Likewise, I seem to recall that the G.K. stands for Gilbert Keith - but I'm not entirely sure, but I will resist checking until after this column is posted. Sometimes one has to commit to an anecdote. Here at the Nine Inch Column, we are not afraid to work without a net.

This column, however, is not about Mr. Chesterton, or my own journalistic work ethic, but rather about a big man in a vest - our own Prime Minister Stephen Harper, photographed recently on the battlefields of Afghanistan and the jungles of Mexico in some Tilleyesque khaki affair. Immediately, the media jumped on the poor man for both his fashion sense (highlighted against the tropical ease displayed by the linen-clad Vicente Fox and G.W. Bush - and i know what those stand for), and his expanding girth.

You should know, faithful readers, that I am no fan of Stephen Harper, or his party, but I can't help feeling a little sympathetic for the man. For you see, your humble scribe is one of those unlucky souls who occasionally finds himself fluctuating between pants sizes, and I certainly don't like it being brought to my attention when I do fluctuate up instead of down. Sure, we could poke fun at the man for his weight, but wouldn't it be better to continue poking fun at things that matter, like his shady Cabinet appointments, his daycare platform, his foreign relations policy, and his constitutional skill?

Here is where the Nine Inch Column resists the urge to use a "chew the fat" joke.