The Scene. At approximately 7:26pm, government house leader Peter Van Loan, standing at the rear of the Senate with the rest of the rabble, opened his mouth and yawned. Her Excellency, Michaëlle Jean, was about halfway through speaking from her throne.

A few minutes later, one of the nine Supreme Court justices seated in three rows directly before the Governor General allowed his own expression of fatigue to escape. In short order, his eyes appeared to close, his chin sinking deeper and deeper into his chest. Perking up, he gazed towards the heavens. Perhaps hoping to stir his senses, he rubbed his eyes and stroked his chin. His head eventually settled on his hand as a second yawn was barely stifled.

In the judge's defence, those Santa Claus robes - red with white fur trim - must be awfully warm and comfy. And if the extravagant pyjamas weren't cause enough for a light nap, there was what amounted to the government's own bedtime story - an arduous tale of tax cuts, Arctic sovereignty, climate change and war in far off lands.

For all its pomp, circumstance and, in this case, political intrigue, the Throne Speech is not particularly exciting. Sorry. An hour before Van Loan's pivotal yawn, a man in a silly hat had marched into the Senate and called the meeting to order. Twenty-six minutes after that, a different man, this one holding a black stick - flatteringly referred to officially as a "rod" - was dispatched to summon your Members of Parliament, who, coincidentally, just happened to be hanging out in the House of Commons.

A few minutes later, they arrived, gathering behind a brass bar at chamber's entrance. The NDP's Peter Stoffer wedged his way to the front. The rest chose to gather just outside the door. It took a while for the honourable members to settle down, but shortly after seven o'clock, the Governor General spoke the first of what would be 4,092 words.

That is, by any objective standard, a lot of words. Indeed, last year's Speech from the Throne was a mere 2,450 words. And back then, in those heady days of Spring 2006, this government was fresh and new. Who could predict what legislative hijinks it might get up to? A year and a half later, delightful surprises are few and far between. Kyoto's targets still aren't attainable and the Taliban still has too many members who are both living and breathing.

But on and on her Excellency did speak. About 15 minutes in, one senator looked down at her watch. Apparently not provided copies of the speech, several other senators took copious notes. One Conservative nodded vigorously at disparaging mention of the gun registry. There were audible chuckles when Jean reported that, "Our Government believes that Canada is not well served by the Senate in its current form."

And shortly after the government had questioned the very existence of the institution hosting the speech, the Governor General appealed for Divine Providence and the Throne had said its piece. A clerk seated to the Governor General's right walked to the back of the room, ceremonially delivering a copy of the speech to the Speaker of the House. The Speaker of the House, apparently satisfied with having already heard it, immediately handed it off to a page.

Some MPs made their way to the Commons foyer, where the network chat shows and hordes of reporters on looming deadlines were eager to hear their instant and barely considered reaction. Most members returned to the House, where the first terse words were being exchanged in what promises to be a typically demure discussion of the issues facing our country.

Liberal maverick™ Garth Turner lauded the Throne Speech as both "tepid" and "vacuous." "Are you still here?" came a voice from the government benches. As the Prime Minister twirled his earpiece, various Conservative members stood to proclaim their favourite parts. Liberal Dan McTeague accused the government of painting in "flowery colours." Though this might've just been a reference to Jay Hill's tie.

About ten minutes short of 9pm, Liberal leader Stéphane Dion stood sheepishly, his benches dutifully applauding. "I move that the debate be now adjourned," he said, sheepishly.

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