Don Arseneault ‘can’t remember’ crashing PC leadership convention

Don Arseneault ‘can’t remember’ crashing PC leadership convention

Fredericton — Toward the end of last night’s PC leadership convention where former finance minister Blaine Higgs defeated 6 other candidates, a drunken Donald Arseneault reportedly barged in reeking of booze, leaving chaos in his wake.

A belligerent Arseneault was eventually escorted from the premises by security and told to “go home and sleep it off,” but this morning the Liberal cabinet minister had absolutely no recollection of the humiliating events.

“Ughhhh…. my head,” moaned Arseneault, rolling over in his bed to grab his phone. “What the… 18 new texts? That seems pretty high… oh god, who was I talking to last night?!”

Arseneault said the last thing he remembers is going to Dooly’s on Queen Street for a quick pint at around 7 p.m. on Saturday.

“He seemed fine,” recounted the bartender this afternoon. “He was a little annoying and wouldn’t shut up about how the Conservatives are all about ‘doom and gloom,’ but other than that. I was like ‘Dude, I don’t care about this at all and I have other customers.’ He sort of just sulked and kept drinking, played the VLTs for a while and then he must have stumbled out at 9ish.”

Moncton lawyer and PC leadership hopeful Monica Barley said Arseneault bee-lined right toward her after he stormed into the convention.

“He came up to me, put his arm around my shoulder and said he always liked me and thought I was pretty cool, and that Higgs is nothing but a washed-up old oil tycoon,” she recalled with horror. “He kept repeating these nonsense statements… I tried to humour him so he wouldn’t cause a scene, but he followed me around, saying that he hangs out with Brian Gallant all the time, as if that would impress me.

“His breath was rank.”

This morning, as Arseneault was washing down some extra-strength Tylenol with a lukewarm bottle of blue Gatorade, he said he just can’t remember anything, and so should be absolved of guilt.

“There’s no proof that I was even there,” he mumbled, holding his phone at arm’s length and peering at the messages with one bloodshot eye. “Great… some number I don’t even know texted me. It says: ‘Man what were you ON last night??’ I’m not even going to answer that.”

At press time, Arseneault was settling in for a day of Netflix on his couch.

“I just want to relax, watch some Stranger Things, and forget that anything ever happened.”

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