Any similarity to real life is entirely possible and not entirely coincidental

By Jay Arthur

About three years ago, the esteemed publisher of this illustrious piece of yellow journalism got a little hot under the collar about freedom of the press. He sent me to the bleachers and penned his own column based on the tried and trusted "publish and be damned" line.
Some members of the Waste Diversion Ontario (WDO) board were concerned that the essence of their discussions was being published before they had formally approved the minutes, and the publisher felt obliged to point out that's what the media does.
I am of course very sensitive to the peace of mind of the members of the WDO old boys' and girls' club, dwelling as they do in great comfort in their ivory tower. And to be fair, it is actually getting pretty crowded in the tower. In addition to the actual designated board members, there are the alternates, the guests and the observers, not to mention staff, mandolin players, acrobats and court jesters.
Henry the Eighth had the same issues, but the printing press was a relative newcomer, there was no Internet and he had some penalty clauses in his agreements that proved quite handy.
Not so in 2008. Most of what goes on at the WDO meetings is the stuff of legend long before the secretarial record is formally approved at subsequent gatherings.
It is all the more interesting therefore, that the latest little scandal to rock the royal court did not occur at a meeting but found its way into the media nevertheless, albeit briefly, courtesy of a mundane piece of provincial paperwork known as the lobbyists' list.
Of course, any information on this (memos from senior staff, for example) would be confidential so we can only hypothesize about the reasoning behind the hiring of certain individuals to perform certain tasks.
Let us, for the sake of argument, imagine what would happen if King Hal decided it would be nice to have some plan to manage the leftovers from the weekly jousting

tournaments--broken lances, assorted armour, used stirrups, ladies' scarves and the like.
He commands the dukes, earls and other nobles to come up with a plan, leaving his senior bureaucrat--in this case one Thomas Cranmer--to look after the details. The nobles have done this kind of thing before and most of the players are old friends and enjoy a lot of mutual royal business.
They set to work, and before long they come up with the required plan, beautifully written on the finest parchment, and illuminated with great finesse by local monks.
You might think that having shown such faith in his advisers by honouring them with such a prestigious task, that would be enough to inspire confidence that their plan would find royal favour.
Cranmer, however, anxious to please His Majesty, and mindful of what happened to some of the previous holders of his office, takes it upon himself to retain the services of the Earl of Sussex to petition the king and his inner circle to ensure the plan is accepted.
Sussex of course is no stranger to the hallways of Hampden Court having been there on many occasions lobbying for others suitors. (He could almost retire with the money he made from the Boleyn family.)
On this occasion, however, people are whispering that having Sussex wandering the corridors of power is not seemly.
As one of those appointed to come up with the waste jousting and tournament equipment (WJTE) plan--a plan that some of the smaller tournament service guilds feel is too slanted towards the McLancelots of this world--Sussex has a conflict of interest. He is well-known for his McLancelot connections, not mention his work for the MegaTourney Compagnie.
    So there is great excitement when a hastily scribbled epistle from Cranmer says it is because Sussex has worked for the companies that would be favoured by the WJTE plan that he is the right man to lobby for it.
If the McLancelots also support the WJTE plan, then the interests of the knights appointed to develop the plan and this client are said to "align".
This, as you can imagine, comes as great relief to the unwashed masses gathered outside the gates of the ivory tower, because they--ignorant peasants that there are--had thought the complete opposite.
As for what the nobles think, well, we'll have to wait for the minutes.