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  Singapore Siu Dai: Th e SG Conversation in a Cup

  Text © Felix Cheong, 2014

  Cover illustration © Miel, 2014

  Inside illustrations © PMan, 2014

  ISBN 978-981-07-8858-2 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-981-11-7603-6 (ebook)

  Published under the imprint Ethos Books by

  Pagesetters Services Pte Ltd

  28 Sin Ming Lane

  #06-131 Midview City

  Singapore 573972

  www.ethosbooks.com.sg

  www.facebook.com/ethosbooks

  —

  Design and layout by Pagesetters Services Pte Ltd

  Cover design by Tay Khai Xin

  Cover illustration by Miel

  Fourth printing, 2019 by Ho Printing Singapore Pte Ltd

  Typefaces: 12pt Minion Pro; 18/30/48pt Christopherhand

  Material: Cover – 260gsm Matt Art Card

  Content – 70gsm Prima Antique Cream

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  National Library Board, Singapore Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Cheong, Felix.

  Singapore siu dai : the SG conversation in a cup / by Felix Cheong ; illustrations by PMan. – Singapore : Ethos Books, [2014]

  pages cm

  ISBN : 978-981-07-8858-2 (paperback)

  1. Singapore – Fiction. I. PMan. II. Title.

  PR9570.S53

  S823 -- dc23

  OCN867745647

  By The Same Author

  Poetry

  Temptation and Other Poems (1998)

  I Watch the Stars Go Out (1999)

  Broken by the Rain (2003)

  Sudden in Youth: New and Selected Poems (2009)

  Young adult fiction

  The Call from Crying House (2006)

  The Woman in the Last Carriage (2007)

  Fiction

  Vanishing Point (2012)

  Singapore Siu Dai 2: The SG Conversation Upsize! (2014)

  Singapore Siu Dai 3: The SG Conversation Dabao! (2016)

  Non-fiction

  Different (2005)

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks once again to Hoe Fang for taking a chance with this book, even though it is something outside my comfort zone;

  To Toast Box at 112 Katong, where I spent many teh-stained teeth afternoons writing;

  To Moe, Adrian, Prem and Colin, for your kind blurbs;

  To Neil, for your incisive foreword;

  To Miel, for such a beautiful cover;

  To my collaborator-in-crime, PMan, for your quirky illustrations that cut right to the heart of Singaporeans;

  To my old friend, David, for your encouraging feedback when this manuscript was still struggling to get off the ground;

  And to my wife Georgette, who kept these stories on a tight leash with your comments.

  The Great Calibrator: A Science Fiction Fable was first published in breakfastnetwork.sg

  Contents

  Foreword by Neil Humphreys

  The Life of Slices Taxi Woes I

  Taxi Woes II

  Train Woes I

  Train Woes II

  Train Woes III

  Distance Matters I

  Distance Matters II

  SG Conversation

  A Day at Toast Box°

  Sturdy Notes

  Disappearing Act

  Graffiti Confusion

  Mr. OB’s Marker° I

  Mr. OB’s Marker II

  Tank You

  A Day in the Office At the Matchmaker I

  At the Matchmaker II

  At the Matchmaker III

  At the Matchmaker IV

  At the Matchmaker V

  At the Censors

  Language Therapy for Teens

  At the Police Post

  Captain Obvious I

  Captain Obvious II

  Captain Obvious III

  SingaSore

  A Day at the Races

  The Trade-off

  Beng Out of Shape Most Wanted

  The Fussy Employee

  Writing on the Wall

  Lost and Spaced Out

  Group Effort

  Shifting Maps

  Like That Law

  Pay Matters

  First World Problems

  Game Over

  If only… ‘Allo ‘Allo

  The True Story of Ah Queue

  A Flash in the Trend

  Chope!

  Exam Fever

  The Great Calibrator: A Science-Fiction Fable

  GSS I

  GSS II

  G-Men I

  G-Men II

  G-Men III

  Glossary

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  "It's okay to say you've got a weak spot.

  You don't always have to be on top.

  Better to be hated than loved, loved,

  loved for what you're not."

  – I Am Not a Robot,

  Marina and the Diamonds

  Foreword

  Felix Cheong gets it. He always has. Hold up a mirror to a face-saving society for too long and the initial dazzle gives way to irritation.

  In the unremitting glare, the critical mirror burns the face. Humour is the emollient that softens the impact. In other words, make them laugh or they will come after you with a parang.°

  Felix tiptoes across that ever shrinking tightrope with characteristic panache. A man after my own mischievous heart, he goes after them all: inane censorship, parental kiasuism,° economic Darwinism, the shameful exploitation of foreign workers and, of course, the answer to all our societal problems – a packet of tissue paper.

  But he satirises. He never sneers; the crucial distinction between the respected humorist and the tiresome rabble-rouser. He moves effortlessly from one contentious topic to another, relying on witty subtlety rather than the weary sledgehammer.

  From the indefatigable Mrs. KS Tan to the wonderful anarchist-turned-graffiti artist Mr. KS Tan, his characters are flawed, of course, but funny and, more importantly, identifiable (and the tiger incident at the police post is reason enough to read this book).

  I usually turn into a plastic nodding dog when I read Felix because he truly gets it. But then, he always has.

  Neil Humphreys

  Neil Humphreys is a well-known journalist and the bestselling humorist behind four travel books on Singapore. He has also published two novels and several children’s storybooks.

  Taxi Woes I

  “How dare these people!” Mrs. KS Tan muttered to herself.

  With five grocery bags, tipping over with the week’s groceries, and a Saturday sun microwaving her from the inside out, she was not prepared to be magnanimous. She had just crossed the bridge to beat the taxi queue snaking 20 people long at Parkway Parade.

  Fifteen minutes later, a young couple, freshly arrived and freshly in love, strolled ahead of her, waiting by the curb. They seemed to emote some kind of force field against her dagger stares.

  “I was here first!” Mrs. KS Tan said crossly, transferring her bags from her left hand to her right. Still no sign of a taxi.

>   Quickly, Mrs. KS Tan trotted 15 metres and set herself up ahead of the couple. They didn’t seem to mind, at least that was what she thought. In fact, they were walking away.

  Wait a minute. They were now 15 metres ahead, laughing gaily. Oblivious and unashamed – the worst possible combination in young people.

  “Okay,” Mrs. KS Tan thought. “Two can play at this game!”

  Ten one-upmanship moves later, Mrs. KS Tan was home.

  Taxi Woes II

  Half an hour inching one ruler-length at a time up the queue, Mrs. KS Tan finally eased herself into a taxi. Though laden with shopping bags, she had chosen to forgo two other taxis because the flag-down fare was three dollars and sixty cents.

  “Uncle, Parc Seabreeze. Near Katong,” she said as she quickly closed the door to escape the heat.

  The driver didn’t react. He looked like he had already written his will and made his peace with God and the PAP.°

  “Which way you want to go? Shorter way or longer way?” he asked, catching her eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Huh?”

  “Shorter way takes more time, longer way takes less.”

  Mrs. KS Tan thought it must be the heat but his logic made sense. “Longer way,” she said.

  When she woke up from forty winks, the taxi had reached its destination. But not hers.

  “Uncle, where is this?” Mrs. KS Tan asked, looking out the window in a daze. It looked like…

  “You said, ‘Park, see breeze.’ East Coast Park lor.° A lot of breeze to see.”

  Train Woes I

  Adlin Fang was beyond indignant. She was incensed and inflamed. Here she was, heavy with technology – iPad clutched to her chest, iPhone in her pocket with its music beating down her eardrums – and not a seat on the peak-hour train.

  Her favourite corner seat had already been colonised by a silver-haired woman. She looked to be in her sixties and about 30 seconds to death. Any train jerk might well send her to the other side.

  “Pretending to sleep, huh?” Adlin thought, noticing the pretend drool at the edge of the old woman’s mouth. “Auntie, read the sign! ‘Please give up your seat to young people. They are our nation’s future’. I am the future. That seat is mine!”

  A young man beside Adlin noticed her distress and tapped the old woman awake. “Auntie,” he said, “this young lady needs the seat more than you.”

  The old woman immediately made furtive, fugitive-like movements to get up. “Ah,” Adlin thought. “She really was pretending to sleep!”

  As the old woman shamefully held onto the handlebar, Adlin slid her bum onto the seat. She beamed a grateful smile at the young man.

  “You’re so kind!”

  Train Woes II

  That morning, Adlin Fang had stormed out of the house, a tailwind of angry words following her to the MRT° station. Her mother had just called her “selfish” and “thoughtless”. Not terribly original adjectives to throw at teens raised on narcissism. Still, they did seep into her conscience and wet it a little.

  “Am I selfish?” Adlin asked herself, leaning her back against the full length of the holding pole. Several middle-aged women beside her made an amusing attempt to surf, hands-free, as the train lurched. Her life flashed before her eyes like a 15-second YouTube ad.

  “Whatever new film or song is out, I download and share with friends. That’s not selfish, right?” she pep-talked herself.

  There was a commotion as one of the women tripped. Adlin giggled. They really should have taken a taxi. If she wasn’t so busy investigating her values, she would have filmed it.

  But now, her conscience pricked and picked at, Adlin wondered if she was thoughtless. Another 15-second ad of her life whooshed by. She decided maybe not. It was all relative.

  “I’m not thoughtless,” she decided. “I try hard not to breathe in my own secondhand smoke. That takes some thinking, right?”

  By journey’s end, Adlin’s moral struggle was over.

  Train Woes III

  “Thank goodness I got this corner seat!” Adlin Fang thought as the train grumbled and rumbled to the city. There was an end-of-day stink in the air. It was probably what Armageddon smelt like – if you were alive. She held her breath, feeling her stomach spinning its contents.

  Adlin didn’t know how long she had been napping before she woke up to a finger tapping on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to the same young man who had once helped her secure a seat.

  He still had the same kindly face but for some reason, he didn’t seem to have aged in 40 years. Was she dreaming? Or was this a different young man?

  “Auntie, this young lady needs the seat more than you,” he said, pointing at a teenager beside him. She looked sturdy enough, her thighs thick like trunks and probably genetically-modified for farm work.

  In a daze, Adlin glanced up at the sign. ‘Please give up your seat to young people. They are our nation’s future’.

  Reluctantly, she heaved herself up, swirling the nausea in her system. She felt some spittle at the corner of her mouth. That was embarrassing. Before Adlin could even grab onto the handlebar, the teen brushed past her and crash-landed on the seat.

  “You’re so kind!” the teen said, beaming at the young man.

  Distance Matters I

  When Mr. KS Tan and members of his extended family were seen pushing against the front wall of their bungalow in Siglap, neighbours were naturally curious. They gathered around the three-storey house in ever widening circles, pointing and gesticulating.

  Despite the stares and gossip, the Tans kept at it, in wind and hail, in sun and haze, stopping only for meals and toilet breaks. Even their only child, five-year-old Rex, pulled his weight, a determined look scrunching up his cherubic face.

  The Tans attracted so much attention that even The Straits Times, the local paper best read with a smirk, a shrug or both, came to cover this strange family with an even stranger idea for family bonding.

  “We’re moving house,” Mr. KS Tan was quoted as saying, “so that Rex can get into Joo Chiat Primary School. We still have a year to move it to within two kilometres of the school.”

  It was going to be a very long year.

  Distance Matters II

  When, at last, the Tan family managed to heave and shove the front wall forward by 10 metres, the year had almost ended. They were right on schedule. Rex had just turned six, his birthday spent suitably in his birthday suit, testing the colours of the garden mud. It was an exhausting time for all and a relief when they were now, officially, within two kilometres of Joo Chiat Primary School. They celebrated that afternoon with the longest shower in family memory.

  But it was not to be. The door bell tolled.

  When Mr. KS Tan opened the front gate, he found, before him, a governmental-looking person. He was spare and square in the way scholars appeared after a few years keeping the system running.

  “Mr. KS Tan?” the governmental-looking person asked. Mr. KS Tan nodded, hoping it was an official endorsement that they were now, officially, within two kilometres of Joo Chiat Primary School.

  “I’m from the Singapore Land Authority,” the governmental-looking person continued. “I’m here to serve you notice that, under the Land Acquisition Act, we’ll take over the frontage of your house and push the wall back by 10 metres.”

  SG Conversation

  Oh my God. Where you bought that one?

  313.° But sold out already. You can find same one at 112.°

  Which one? One George Street?

  No lah.° I never go there one. Too far from office at One Raffles Quay.

  Where that one?

  Near One Raffles Place. Or near One Marina Boulevard.

  No wonder I always get lost.

  What time now?

  One. I’m hungry. What you want?

  Wanton.

  Nothing at TripleThree.°

  Go TripleOne.°

  A Day at Toast Box°

  Uncle, yuan yang° kopi.°


  Yuan yang already got kopi.

  I want more kopi.

  Then say so lah. 70 percent kopi, 30 percent teh?°

  Can. But teh must be gao.°

  60 percent kopi, 40 percent teh?

  But teh must be more gao than kopi.

  50 percent kopi, 50 percent teh, ok?

  Can. But kopi must be siu dai.°

  So you want yuan yang siu dai?

  Only the kopi siu dai, not the teh.

  I mix kopi with teh, then teh is also siu dai.

  Like that ha? Then make the teh kosong° lor.

  You understand what is yuan yang or not!

  Uncle, why you so fierce? Never mind lah. Give me Horlicks-Milo-C° peng,° upsize. Horlicks more gao, siu dai, no peng. Milo kosong, more peng.

  Sturdy Notes

  It was only the first day of school and Mrs. KS Tan already felt like it was the last day of her life. All that shoving and shouting – and that was only from parents. She needed an overdose of painkillers fast.

  As she was about to leave, she saw a flock – no other word could describe how they hovered – of parents around a makeshift stall near the General Office. Never one to miss a queue, she inched in for a look.

  The sign said ‘Scholars’ Notes: Results guaranteed!’ Two young people, perky as Glee and equally anemic, were at the frontline, protecting stacks of study notes wrapped in clear plastic. They would make great Christmas gifts, especially for her nephew’s nephew on her maternal nephew’s side. He would be in primary one next year.

  “How much?” Mrs. KS Tan asked.

  The young woman, at the timid end of her voice, hoarsely recited, “We have two schemes, Ma’am. Leasehold and Freehold. Leasehold notes last 15 years. Then you return them and get back half the fee. Freehold notes, you keep them forever, like heirloom for your children’s children.”

  “Or for my nephew’s nephew on my maternal nephew’s side?”