Mrs World is a Fraud

Or so says Mrs Canada, Nicole Mackoway:

"Mr. Russia bought the crown for his wife," said Mackoway, 29, a mother of two. "She followed a completely different set of rules than the rest of us. We were all told if we were late, we'd be sent home. She was never there."

The Philippines Maricarl Tolosa-Cabel made the same allegation in an interview with a Manila newspaper.

Bob Mazza, vice-president of Marmel Entertainment, chalked the crowning controversy up to a staging glitch.

"The lady that brings out the sash incorrectly put it on the wrong person and that created the confusion," he said. "We corrected the mistake immediately."

I believe her, Canadians NEVER lie, that's a fact.

It does, however, remind me of the spectacle that occurred a few years ago at the Durham Regional Mayor pageant. That memory will be seared into my mind for eternity.

I remember it like it was yesterday, I was just a young Mayor. At the time I was The Mayor of the 57th fastest growing community in N.E. Durham Region, Ontario, Canada, North America, the World. I was all piss and vinegar, and I entered the pageant thinking I had a pretty fantastic chance of taking home the Golden Tiara. Man, was I ever wrong.

It came down to two finalists, myself and Jerry Gorden, The Mayor of the 24th fastest growing community in N.E. Durham Region. Everyone was telling me that I was a shoe-in. I was miles ahead of Jerry in the Speedo swimsuit competition, and the way I sang at the talent contest put all the contestants to shame (side note: If you are ever in a competition like this, always sing Like a Virgin, you have to trust me on that). I was feeling so confident, my Vaselined lips were shining and I was beaming from my size 12 feet to the top of my shaved and waxed bald head. The announcer opened the envelope and declared Jerry Gordon the winner. I was shocked, the crowd went insane.

I remember the frenzy that the crowd flew into, smashing chairs and throwing beer bottles at the judges. The police were called in to quell the riot, but not before 10 brave constables succumbed to their injuries. There were more than 45 souls lost that night, and scores of injured, and all because of a fixed Mayoral pageant.

As for myself, I was grace under pressure. I congratulated Jerry for winning, then took him backstage and kicked him squarely in his little nuts. I punched Jerry with so many lefts that he started begging me for my rights. Poor Jerry, I can still see him now, his urine soaked tuxedo, the black eyes and major facial contusions, the Golden Tiara broken, and his life hanging by a thread.

The one good thing that came of that, after the Royal Commissions declared a mis-pageant, was that I have not lost a pageant since. And I owe it all to the fact that I am a beautiful man.

A big round of applause to Neale News for finding this article, and to The Chronicle Herald for supplying the actual article.