Bopping to Smoke on
the Water Beefy, thankfully on the ear-pieces, while surveying the Form
Guide Weights and Ratings up at KL.
Beefy always sits opposite one seat across, former jailbird unlike some others respecting pen and paper.
A few years ago Deep Purple out here for a show at the stadium; Stones due out shortly. Breaks up the long haul and easy money plucking dollars from the Sing audience. Beefy may have found ways and means of procuring tickets on the cheap.
Having attention drawn to the chief story on page one on this extended dry spell, Beefy pulls a plug and blares the enquiry,
— WHAT?
Driest spell in fifty years, water rationing up at Selangor, ML already, expected to continue a good while. Few days earlier Beef had told of his wife carting water from neighbours out at Tanjung Pinang. Well before that too the kampung boy had been heart-sore at the lack of rain here in Singapore, the disturbance of bodily rhythm and equilibrium acutely felt by the man. Weeks without rain. No need for newspaper reportage for Beefy.
Only one thing for it according to Beef. All the priests, imams and the rest on the island, from each of the communities, needed to join together in supplication. Relief to be sought from the curse.
No joke. It sounded odd, but this jailbird was most serious in his proposal. The rough, "stubborn" life, errors, habits and actions from early days right up to the present, notwithstanding.
All of them together and nothing else, appealing for mercy. There you have it.
Purple again when we petered out, the mask of Beef's visage carrying the strain of this communal hardship unknown to date on the island.
We were just emerging from the supposed wettest time of year, the Nor'east monsoon. Dry as.... A certain Oz vulgarity inevitably coming to mind here involving a nun's anatomical parts. No point trying to introduce the lad.
In that a pal passing by, happening along the inner footpath and caught only when he was already crossed footing toward Changi corner.
The common bellows a beefy fellow lugging a spare tyre that size hardly needs describing. Here add the extra from the Purple sound bubble from which the man projected.
Booming across the tables like the first detonation of the long expected terrorist attack on this territory. Almost sent the chairs into the sea.
Seemed something particular, over and above the courteous Hullo!
The chap's response was intriguing.
Without any turning and continuing on his march, from more than ten metres distance, a strange motion, starting with patting the top of his head lightly like Grannie did in the kampung when the fellow was still good. This was followed by a second gesture skyward with the forefinger.
The hand didn't rise much from the thatch pointing. Two actions in one. You had to be on your toes.
The gloss from the bovine big Boy: The pat atop the head was one; sky-high twelve.
The empyrean always remains twelve. An alternate one is forefinger down at the ground.
The chap dji ki, or Morning Show. Hokkien.
Illegal side-bet that used the government Toto draw for its numbers. Chap is ten, dji two, ki stick. One-twelve was the best the pal could suggest this morning. Going with that.
Pick the two drawn you collect $1 per $50 segment.
Side-game run from the time of Beefy's boyhood when forty cents was entry. Three separate rounds in this South-east region: Geylang, Bedok and Eunos; eight Chin bosses running the show with eighty thousand seeded.
Catch 'em if you can Mr. Policeman.
There was a morning round and a later. Otherwise also known as Grandpa and Grandma.
Beefy always sits opposite one seat across, former jailbird unlike some others respecting pen and paper.
A few years ago Deep Purple out here for a show at the stadium; Stones due out shortly. Breaks up the long haul and easy money plucking dollars from the Sing audience. Beefy may have found ways and means of procuring tickets on the cheap.
Having attention drawn to the chief story on page one on this extended dry spell, Beefy pulls a plug and blares the enquiry,
— WHAT?
Driest spell in fifty years, water rationing up at Selangor, ML already, expected to continue a good while. Few days earlier Beef had told of his wife carting water from neighbours out at Tanjung Pinang. Well before that too the kampung boy had been heart-sore at the lack of rain here in Singapore, the disturbance of bodily rhythm and equilibrium acutely felt by the man. Weeks without rain. No need for newspaper reportage for Beefy.
Only one thing for it according to Beef. All the priests, imams and the rest on the island, from each of the communities, needed to join together in supplication. Relief to be sought from the curse.
No joke. It sounded odd, but this jailbird was most serious in his proposal. The rough, "stubborn" life, errors, habits and actions from early days right up to the present, notwithstanding.
All of them together and nothing else, appealing for mercy. There you have it.
Purple again when we petered out, the mask of Beef's visage carrying the strain of this communal hardship unknown to date on the island.
We were just emerging from the supposed wettest time of year, the Nor'east monsoon. Dry as.... A certain Oz vulgarity inevitably coming to mind here involving a nun's anatomical parts. No point trying to introduce the lad.
In that a pal passing by, happening along the inner footpath and caught only when he was already crossed footing toward Changi corner.
The common bellows a beefy fellow lugging a spare tyre that size hardly needs describing. Here add the extra from the Purple sound bubble from which the man projected.
Booming across the tables like the first detonation of the long expected terrorist attack on this territory. Almost sent the chairs into the sea.
Seemed something particular, over and above the courteous Hullo!
The chap's response was intriguing.
Without any turning and continuing on his march, from more than ten metres distance, a strange motion, starting with patting the top of his head lightly like Grannie did in the kampung when the fellow was still good. This was followed by a second gesture skyward with the forefinger.
The hand didn't rise much from the thatch pointing. Two actions in one. You had to be on your toes.
The gloss from the bovine big Boy: The pat atop the head was one; sky-high twelve.
The empyrean always remains twelve. An alternate one is forefinger down at the ground.
The chap dji ki, or Morning Show. Hokkien.
Illegal side-bet that used the government Toto draw for its numbers. Chap is ten, dji two, ki stick. One-twelve was the best the pal could suggest this morning. Going with that.
Pick the two drawn you collect $1 per $50 segment.
Side-game run from the time of Beefy's boyhood when forty cents was entry. Three separate rounds in this South-east region: Geylang, Bedok and Eunos; eight Chin bosses running the show with eighty thousand seeded.
Catch 'em if you can Mr. Policeman.
There was a morning round and a later. Otherwise also known as Grandpa and Grandma.
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