Striking Singapore (Nothing Like It)

Bulletin from down in the south: Singapura, Lion City; a world away. Something like two million foreign workers needed to keep the country functioning. Construction, shipping, factory labour (perhaps even necessary for the substantial armaments industry; one of the largest manufacturers of land-mines in the world according to some). Domestic helpers alone number over two hundred thousand. Precious few locals want to sit behind the wheels of the buses. In this case drivers enticed from mainland China. Trouble struck when these drivers learned of the variance in conditions for the local drivers, doing the same job. Same yellow colour too. Wouldn't swallow it. A rat-bag crew of twenty-nine it seems having the cheek to spring the first strike in Singapura since the nineteen hundred and eighties. Thirty odd year clean run. These Chinese suddenly unhappy with the wages they had agreed to in advance. Six months, a year ago, they had been sweet. Begging for the chance, down on their knees, sucking pisang practically. Suddenly it's not good enough for them. Two days downed tools. Climbed down from the drivers' seat. Aircon, clean, no need collect tickets with the automated system—still not happy. Back where they came from unmade roads more often than not. Aircon? The window open and arm hanging out to sift some current. Quite likely infected by the former Communism in the homeland, ideas of fair work for fair pay. Pervasive cancer in any country. How do they imagine Singapore was built? Did the common coolie ancestors press for wages at every little grievance? Short shrift they got, the authorities not allowing the canker to fester. On their way as we speak, repatriated to their own country, their grubby little towns. An object lesson to all, both the remainder and all those who might dream of following in their footsteps. Twenty-nine of them, Goodbye. Fuck off. We don't need you. Plenty more where you came from waiting in line, happy to get the nod. Work permits revoked; contracts voided. Two days out demanding better pay and conditions. In addition five other drivers to be prosecuted for taking part; which has to be read as locals who couldn't be kicked out of the country. In an ideal LKY wet-dream, any citizen breaking the rules like this deserves to be transported to a desert island and left with three days’ supply of coconuts and water. Bold decisive action should keep the road clear ahead the next thirty odd years. Strike the snake quick-smart; cut off the head you're on top of the situation. Poor commuters down there these last few days, innocent victims. The rabble-rousing Workers' was Party a concern in the time ahead. All the good work could easily be undone without the country pulling in the one direction. In the last election three or four Opposition candidates elected. Either on that occasion, or an earlier still a few years previous, LKY had been quoted as telling the particular electorate concerned they were in for punishment for their betrayal. Fascinating fantasy island.