Name: William Douglas

Date:
First edition: 1 February '13 This edition: 14 May 2013

The President's Cousin

Being a garbage truck driver every day, every week doesn't pay well, as anyone who has that particular job in the Lorlein City Council knows. And James Taylore was no special exception. He was paid 3 Canadian dollars (2 English Pounds) to collect garbage all over the north-west of the French-speaking city of Qubec . This was James' daily timetable: LUNDI 1er AOT 5.15 Get up. 5.16 Get ready for work. 5.30 Catch the cheapest bus to work (LCTDC). 5.57 Put on my fluoro vest. 6.00 Start garbage rounds. 7.30 End garbage rounds. 7.45 Start recycling rounds. 9.15 End recycling rounds. 10.00 Take garbage to Qubec Landfill. 12.00 Collect pay ($3) 12.13 Catch cheapest train. 1.00 Go to bed. And to add to his misery, he was not allowed to resign, or the council would sue him for all the money that he had! He had been working for them for 22 years and he was turning 46 in a week. But the day after his birthday, everything changed

*** James had arrived at the waste station for the twenty-third year in a row. He walked through the plain concrete yard and no one noticed him. But as soon as he stepped inside the tall redbrick building, he was surrounded by people. 'A letter!' 'A letter for you!' 'James's got a letter!' 'From the French President!' 'Monsieur James!' 'Who'd have thought it?' 'James, too!' With trembling hands, James opened the letter. It read:
To Monsieur James Taylore, We have been reviewing our archives and have therefore discovered your place in the family tree of His Excellency President Francis Miller as his rightful cousin. A chauffeured conveyance is waiting to transport you to Paris to meet His Excellency. Yours cordially, FMitterde Franoise Mitterde Secretary to His Excellency

James was so surprised he had to be pushed out of the room by everyone else ('Can't keep the President waiting!') and into the chauffeured car, which took him to Qubec Airport. From there a private jet flew him to Paris Airport, where another chauffeured car took him to President Francis' Office. Unfortunately, only the next day *** 'Jacques! JACQUES! Come here!'. Jacques was James' French name. 'Jacques, you need to do a speech for me on behalf of the Transport Minister! He's on holiday! ' said the President urgently, over and over again. 'All right!' huffed James. ' A chauffeured car is waiting to take you to the Radio Paris studio.' James sighed. Everywhere James made speeches or went shopping, it was in a chauffeured car or chartered train ('Non, you certainly may NOT take a bus!'). After only a week in Paris he saw noses pressed up against windows, gendarmes holding traffic up for him, and cameras clicking every ten seconds. This was James' daily timetable now: VENDREDI 23ime AOT
8:30 9:00 10:00 12:30 1:45 4:00 4:30 6:45 8:30 9:00 Wake up Breakfast Head funding conference Lunch with the Queen of England Take chauffeured car to Marseilles Speech to people of Marseilles Take chauffeured car back to Paris Dinner with the Maharaja of India Appear on Le Vingt et unime Sicle dinner show Bed

And every morning it was the same: 'Jacques, do me a favour, please!'. One morning, after a particularly stressful ship-launching in Bordeaux ('Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, etcetera, etcetera,'), James just couldn't take being cousin to a President anymore. He slapped the penguin-dressed chauffeur in the face, hailed a taxi to the airport and boarded an economy class aeroplane with Avion de L'Atlantique to Montral, where he could fade into anonymity. *** But only a single day after he had arrived in a small hotel room, a letter arrived.
To James Taylore, We have recently discovered you are the lawful Uncle of His Majesty the King of Denmark .