But Poilievre must still beat down the perception that he is a tiny-fisted ball of hate who sees everyone outside his narrow political bandwidth as an enemy to be ridiculed and crushed.

By fixating blame on Trudeau for events beyond his control like the Nazi mess, Poilievre caters to an image that is the opposite of prime ministerial.



Pee Pee, some would say, is infatuated with Justin Trudeau, and his recent attempts at a makeover, contacts, dad bod girdle shirts, new hair and makeup speak to a man who is unsatisfied with his look, and a man who is attempting to manage expectations of his coterie of supplicatnts, who expect more of their shiny, shivering and sucking would be leader.

He aint a happy man. He is a man who seeks relevance, but the trail to celebrity is fraught with voter indifference. Indeed, his wife, the scowling woman who is glued to him like a remora to a shark, seems intent on keeping PeePee on point, remonstrating like a harpie and acting as though she had never heard of the goldent rule: We must be as pure as Caesar’s wife. 

A shallow dive into her family history indicates some familial ties that read more like Goodfella’s than porcelain sheen.