Dismiss her, if you will. Joke about her status as a member of the Bush family; the Babonneau tribe, that is. One thing no one can say, with legitimacy, at any rate, is that the charismatic MP is without imagination.
Face it, all you yolks out there, anyone who can look the prime minister and the former opposition leader straight in the eye with a straight face while preaching the virtues of fitness cannot be considered ordinary. He or she has to be of another dimension; worth watching.
But that’s precisely what Alvina Reynolds did several months ago when she broke the internet with the news that “you are what you eat . . . and I am proud to say I have often seen my party colleagues jogging early in the morning at Pigeon Point.”
Can a regular Looshan mind handle the image of Kenny Anthony and Stephenson King jogging together at Pigeon Point? In shorts? At 5 a.m.? For crying out loud, if Alvina was on the button when she dropped that line about people being what they eat, then what was she telling the world about the two honorable gentleman sitting but a few feet away from her?
What exactly have they been putting into their mouths morning, noon and night? Certainly not that once most popular Saint Lucia dish known as “stuffed pussy,” invented by the unforgettable Chef Harry, God rest his soul.
But forget about that; let’s instead talk about the Alvina Reynolds who showed up for this week’s episode of the Game of Drones. The health minister not only put everyone else in the shade on Wednesday, including Berthia Parle (no easy feat), she also made the prime minister’s tool on the hill appear drab. (For crissakes, what were those things fluttering around the GG’s white hat? Flying fish?)
Alvina flashed a shock of bushy hair worthy of red-carpet applause. As for her candy-striped chapeau, it easily took the cake. Who knew the former bun lady was made of such titillating spice as was on display Tuesday morning? Not I, for sure.
Indeed, my main gripe about the way the Game of Drones ended was that it denied voyeurs more sly glimpses of what, until Wednesday morning, had remained Alvina and Victoria’s special secret.
Clearly elections and HOT Couture make fine bedfellows!