To be fair, that is actually a picture from Austria. It was a gimmick for the opening of one of their major cultural events. I can only guess that it was the Austrian NASCAR touring series, or something similar.So we live in the East, in one of the "lower rise" areas. Or as it is affectionately known: District 15.
Ours is a fairly traditional suburb. There are many Muslim eateries (and despite the prejudices belted into me from growing up in fairly right-wing western cities, the food is quite good). And this appears to be the second-hand motorbike & auto-parts shop centre of Singapore. Bikes and Scooters are a serious business for students and Singaporeans that cannot afford the fluctuating and wildly prohibitive costs of owning a car on the island.
There are a stack of auto shops that stopped worrying about the appearance of their business or buying new parts around 1981. I am trying to figure out how they are fitting the 1981 Pontiac Trans Am parts into the 2008 RX8’s and Nissan GTR’s out the front.
However, the culture for me is best summed up by the shop next to the 1981 auto parts shop. Which is a maid shop. And to my previous next door neighbor, this is not a shop where one buys a French Maid outfit, or whips with pink feather tips. Not that I would know about furred and feathered accessories.
No this is a shop with a dozen or more young ladies standing out the front. These khimar-clad ladies (well, they could be wearing a hijab, or even a burqa for all I know … all I know for certain is they ain’t French) have been plucked from remote rural places in surrounding countries. And our maid shop proudly has over 6,000 of these lasses placed with gringos like me all over Singapore.
Of course, I can’t get one.
And no, JP Giant, it is not because Lia won’t let me. It is because in the instructions on owning, er – employing, one of these ladies (who has never seen a microwave oven or dishwasher), it says that “exercising patience, tolerance and understanding” is a requirement.
That rules me out.
Well, that and Lia won’t let me employ one.
But as the local maid agency advises “A well-rested worker is more productive and better adjusted. Hence, you should ensure that your worker has sufficient rest, especially during the night and sufficient off days, which is mutually agreed upon between you and your maid.”
So I have sent Lia upstairs obtain sufficient rest … and to put on the French outfit that comes with the fluffy pink Love Cuffs.
My Dearest Cruatacious Crusty
ReplyDeleteMonsignor is deeply disturbed, nay shocked to the very core at your fantasies of fantasizing about buxom French maids clad in nothing but frilly knickers, feather boa's and cute little fluffy pink handcuffs.
The very thought that such an upstanding (no pun intented) citizen of stringent Amish upbringing, as the beard attests, would even in his darkest moments contemplate such things....
(Bloody good thing for you that them Amish don't know about this webwire thingy or they would be out in the barn sharpening various farming implements of mideval vintage to help prod the demons from your sinfull behind!)
Monsignor and the Cardinals Jack Daniels, Captain Morgan, Johnny Walker, Remy Martin, Pepe Lopez , Lord Calvert , Jim Beam, Old Grandad and Jameson have been ensconced in the enclave since the news of your condition was communicated to him – the poor PC was promptly beheaded........(now you know why the Swiss Guard carry them axes!)
Not since the phrophesies of Nostradamus, the leaking of the DaVinci code and the slanderous DaVinci alledging that the world is not flat has such a serious situation existed.
We are concerned that your poor ailing ticker may not tock, let alone tick, should you contemplate an evening, nay even an hour of such vicarious debauchery.
It is possible that the heat, the humidity, the foul air of the colonies have perculated (add coffee here) your brain. You could becoming down with a case of the Screaming Singapore Noodles, for which there is no know cure in the civilised world.
From the darkest depths of Africa we will mobilise forty thousand porters to ensure that you have the comforts of home to aid in your recovery. Three grand piano's, a dozen blazing hearths from East Clacton (inside the Manor House of course) to drive out the humidity and a surplus NAAFI circa 1941 with a supply of cold batter puddings – do with them whatever your kinky fantasies fantasise about – mind you if you fantasise about cold batter puddings......
Also from our colonies closer to you we shall send a herd of Elephant, disguidsed as curry power to circumvent customs, as you seem to have some minor issues with transport, both public and private.
You will find that those silly little scooter thingies scoot right out of the way if you are astride an enraged bull elaphant.
PS. The red hot pokers are the steering mechanism – you use the cool end!
They can also help you fit any part of a car to any other car – one stomp shop!
Unfortunately we have to close on some rather sadder news, even sadder than Monsignors current crisis.
As you try to survive in that chewing free society, the telegraph has reported that the last shipment of chewing tabaccy, upon its iron steed, was derailed at Little Sitting Glutch by a war party of Big Chief Bleeding Gums from Chewing Tabaccy – feared Sioux war lord. Unfortunately Shaka Zulu was otherwise occupied chucking recaltricant wives of Shaka's Rock and besides MGM is really not paying that much for cameo appearances anymore.
Now my dear Crusty, you must have sufficient rest – most days are “off” days so ther is no problem there.
Monsignors Scribe