It certainly is an embarrassing picture. There is Ralph Klein, a shy grin on his face, in the company of a desperate gang of hooligans bent on despoiling the country. Mind you, it's an old photo: it's been almost a year since the premiers last got together.

But then, nowadays Klein doesn't seem to mind what sort of company he keeps. It's one thing to be seen, in a photo dating from his time as mayor of Calgary, hoisting a beer with members of a notorious biker gang (what was he supposed to do -- turn down a free drink?) But what on earth is the premier of Alberta doing running constitutional errands for the Business Council on National Issues?

Talk about your Grim Reapers. The BCNI, the business community's attempt to convince us there is some deep thinking going on in the nation's boardrooms, were among the earliest and shrillest supporters of the Meech Lake Accord, which would have left the country looking something like the Satan's Choice clubhouse after an all-night bender. When that failed, they quickly rallied behind the Charlottetown Accord, a document that took so long to say so little it made Meech look like the Gettysburg Address.

Charlottetown having been roundly rejected by most of the country, the BCNI soon assembled a group of eminent citizens -- known, inevitably, as the Confederation 2000 group -- to draft a nearly identical set of proposals.

Anyone see a pattern emerging, here? Once again, these met with no visible support among the general public. Which, to the BCNI, can only mean one thing: let's do it again. The organization has now prevailed upon Klein to present a "new" scheme to his fellow premiers when next they meet, two weeks from now.   Ah, the premiers. The last time these solons turned their attention to the constitution, in Jasper, Alberta, it was to consider Klein's suggestion that the task of defining and enforcing national standards in social programs should be turned over to the provinces -- that is, the provinces should be left to enforce the standards upon themselves. However obscure the point of that initiative may have been, it was clarity itself beside the muddled aftermath of the previous year's First Ministers Conference, where the premiers could not even agree whether they had discussed the constitution or not.

The mere mention of the word, we are told, was enough to make Lucien Bouchard bolt for the bathroom (it had much the same effect, if memory serves, on Clare Lamarche, the moderator of this year's French election debate). He needn't have bothered: the talks, if such they could be called, lasted all of 30 seconds. "I had maybe the time to begin to wash my hands," the premier of Quebec recalled, "and before I could get out of it, [Manitoba Premier Gary] Filmon came in to wash his hands also and it (the discussion) was over." Klein had also threatened to leave the room if the constution came up, and claims he will do the same at next month's encounter (no word as yet on whether he will go to the bathroom, or head outside for a smoke). "Ralph's not willing to discuss the contents of the Constitution -- plain and simple," an aide to the premeir explains. Which makes for a difficult and potentially hazardous scene: the same premier who has vowed to boycott any discussion of the constitution has also agreed to lead it. Will Klein toss the BCNI paper into the room from outside an open window? Or will he wait, and walk out on himself?

Of course, it's always possible the BCNI plan will not propose any constitutional changes. It's difficult to say: as of this writing, the document is not yet complete. But it shouldn't be hard to guess its main thrust: distinct society and devolution, or Meech Lake, Mark III, with whatever new names these may be disguised. The Meechoids have been angling for Klein to front the distinct society campaign for some time, believing the popular premier, now safely re-elected, has the political capital to make it sell in the west.

We shall see. Klein has always professed to disdain distinct society, if it meant "special powers" for Quebec, at least relative to other provinces. The federal government, for its part, insists it will not. Significantly, neither makes any mention of the clause's more likely consequence, namely to dilute the Charter of Rights as it applies to the province's language policies -- in effect, to give the government of Quebec "special powers" over its own citizens.

The premiers have never had much use for the Charter: among other complaints, they believe it restricts them unduly in the pursuit of biker gangs and other unsavoury types. Even in Quebec, the police are limited in the tactics they can deploy against the Rock Machine. But not so the English community: after distinct society, they will have fewer constitutional protections than the bikers.