CHAPTER 8: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART 2.5)

Okay, everyone is tired of this very long short ride. So I will really finish this. Otherwise I will be finished.

There I was, inside the packed train, inching my way to the center of the car as instructed constantly by the public address system. “For the convenience of all passengers, please move to the center of the car.” Then I realized I was the only one following that instruction. Everyone else stood their grounds.  And one aspiring stand-up comedian declared “Car? But am I not on a train?” No one laughed. I then realized I wasn't on a train. And certainly not in a car either. It was a zoo!

Passengers on the platform were still pushing their way in, alighting passengers inside the train still pushing their way out. And the public address system issued warnings “Doors closing, doors closing!” And the train doors were the only thing that behaved. It started closing as instructed. One canoodling couple was separated – the girlfriend out  on the platform, screaming hysterically and crying her heart out – as if she was not going to see her love again. The boyfriend, still on the train, oblivious to the  separation, body and limbs wrapped around a grab pole, eyes closed and smiling. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to throw up. And the well-trained train driver, ever willing to help make it easier for passengers to throw up, accelerated suddenly.

The long awaited journey has begun.

My eyes darted around at top speed. No seats.  Eyes darted around again and then I saw it!  My lucky day. Must buy 4D. Maybe put $5 on the circumference of Mighty Mouth's mouth. 

Yes, the all precious hand-grip, hanging unclaimed, swinging invitingly. I  gave my body one final push, put my hand upwards to claim my prize – and found myself holding a rough and hairy fist! I wanted to protest that I saw it first, but the  owner of the fist smiled at me and asked “Share share?” No, I rather have a battered body, thank you very much. And as if on cue, the driver braked abruptly again and amidst another round of shrieks and screams, my battered body found itself standing right in front of  a reserved seat, clearly marked for the  pregnant, the aged and  the sick. It was occupied by an obviously able bodied young man, eyes closed tightly, head swaying to the music blaring from his headphone.

I may not be pregnant, my youthful looks may belie my status of senior citizen but my by now contorted body, tremoring to the beat of “Beat It” surely shows I have priority. I grunted to catch his attention. I retched loudly, as if I was going to vomit on his branded attire. My knees touched his knees but didn't touch his heart. Maybe he doesn’t have one. He continued snoozing, or pretending to snooze, his head still swaying.

What in the world is happening here? What is going to happen to Singapore if the young and able bodied refused to yield to the aged and the sick?  Our late Founding Father, Mr. Lee Kuan Yew, cried for Singapore when the country was kicked out of the Federation of Malaysia. The least I could do was to whimper loudly for Singapore. Mr. Lee's tears unified the people and built a Nation. My whimpering moved a heart and maybe saved the Nation he built! For at that point of time, another young man appeared out of nowhere, tapped the  comfortably seated young man on his shoulders. Very hard. The illegal squatter of the reserved seat opened his eyes, looking bewildered. My hero did not utter a word, but pointed to the “RESERVED SEAT” sign which said it all. Everyone glared at him. But only one person stood up for Singapore that day. Sigh. Thank you, young man. It was not just about one seat. It was about the future of Singapore. And the comfort of this grumpy, still not very old, man.

 And this grumpy not very old man will keep his promise that the ride on the MRT ends at Part 3. It is only Part 2.5 right?

CHAPTER 7: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART II)

And so I found myself on the train, courtesy of Dolly Parton, and no thanks to Samson. The alighting passengers simply had no chance. Samson dragging me and Dolly pushing me. I felt so loved. You may want to try it sometime. Sigh.

Now let the journey begins. But let me prepare the uninitiated, the naive, the inexperienced, for this longest short journey of your life.

Firstly, let me ask you a question but you must promise me to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth because your well-being may depend on this.

Are you into kung fu? Chinese martial arts? Have you had kungfu lessons? No, you don’t really need to learn how to fight, not unless you have a mother-in-law like mine although I hasten to add that even if you become a Shaolin master, you still cannot fight that woman! Honestly! No, you just need to learn the “Horse Stance” – the basic foundation of Chinese kung fu. Simply put, you learn to stand like a horse so that no one can move you unless you wanted to be moved. I should have used my horse stance earlier when I was sandwiched between my new found friends Samson and Dolly.

Anyway, once you have mastered this stance, you become immovable, very stable on your feet. Nothing can make your pair of legs give way – except a kick from Mighty Mouth. This means that when the train driver brakes a bit too abruptly, or even slow down suddenly, and they are happening with increasing frequencies, you remain standing with your dignity intact. And watch the weaklings around you falling all over the place.

Before I mastered the Horse Stance, I was always losing my balance on the train. When it is standing space only, the most that could happen would be that you knock against the bodies of some of your fellow passengers, and you find yourself in an awkward position, hanging on to the first thing or things you could get your hands on to stop yourself from falling. Because, usually, the first thing you can get your hands on is not something you would usually want to get your hands on. I am talking from experience. When it happened to me, I apologized a thousand times to the fine looking lady. She added to my embarrassment by not saying anything, just smiling shyly. I alighted at the first opportunity. What if she decided to take me home to meet the parents? Bigamy is one thing. But the thought of having to contend with a second mother-in-law scared the hell out of me.

When it is off peak, and there is plenty of space, losing your balance may mean a different outcome. It happened to me once and I am going to tell you about it. But please keep it to yourself, okay? Promise?

Although there were plenty of seats as it was off-peak, I had decided to stand. And because I was standing, the driver decided to brake suddenly. It has to be a conspiracy I tell you. I have probably been marked by SMRT as Complainer of the Year and they were out to get me!.The train screeched and the women screamed. Not sure which was louder. And I was sent flying to a destination I had not paid for. You see, some idiot was fast asleep, his very long legs protruding into the middle of the aisle. I tripped and went headlong towards the softest landing I had ever experienced. I found myself on the lap of this lady of very ample proportions. She could have put my new found friend, Dolly Parton the Pusher to shame. I looked up from her lap but my views were completely blocked . Twin Peaks came to mind.. I was reluctant to leave my newly acquired comfort zone. But I did not want to overstay her hospitality so I picked myself up, stuttering “So…soo..ry..hope I did ..did..not knock into your t... t…tits……no, I……I mean your ..your ….teeth”.

And everyone laughed. They, my fellow passengers, they all laughed at me! I couldn’t believe that was happening. Surely that has to be the peaks of discourtesy! Sorry,, I meant the peak of discourtesy.

So, ladies and gentlemen, go practice your horse stance. Then you can really join me for the rest of that MRT ride!

CHAPTER 6: DISCOURTESY ON THE MRT (PART 1)

This one’s my favorite, so pardon me for being long winded. There is a Chinese saying “A journey of 10,000 miles starts with one step.” For us to get to the MRT, we have to start on the escalator before we get to the train platform. And that’s where the discourtesy starts too………

Most people stand idly on the escalator, as it goes up or down, surveying the rest of the world. They are not in a hurry. That’s fine with me. Take your time. BUT PLEASE – I beg you, please stand to the left and allow those who are in a hurry to walk on the escalators if they want to. Never mind their reasons being in a hurry, whether it is to meet their maker or for their reincarnation. That is not your business. Your business is simply to keep to your left. On behalf of the myriads of commuters who are forever in a hurry and I was one of them not too long ago, I beg you again, I implore you, PLEASE STAND TO YOUR LEFT. YOU UNDERSTAND!

And canoodling couples. My God! They are always hogging the escalators. They do not have the sense to stand on different steps, with both keeping to the left and keeping their hands to themselves. They will stand next to each other, holding hands, hugging and occasionally kissing. They are probably at courting stage. The quarrels and the fights have not started yet.

I am married. So I can share my experience on how to behave on the escalators when you are with the wife. When going down the escalator, the wife goes first. Then you follow 3 seconds later which means you are at least three steps behind. Both of you keep to the left so that your fellow human beings who are in a hurry to meet their maker will not have to elbow their way through. Or having to repeat “Excuse, excuse” a thousand times so that they will not be late for whatever they are trying not to be late for.

When going up an escalator, you go first. Then your wife follows 3 seconds thereafter. At this juncture, you may pause to wonder why the wife has to go first on the way down but you go first on the way up. Let me tell you. It has nothing to do with “ladies first” on the way down or “male chauvinism” on the way up. It is because if you say something wrong and she decides to practice her punching skills, you are safely out of reach. Unless your wife has long hands to match her mother’s big mouth, in which case 5 seconds is recommended. My dearly departed father-in-law needed a full 10 seconds.

But sometimes you find yourself standing on the right for reasons beyond your control. When that happens, and you hear impatient “Excuse! Excuse!” or some weirdo breathing heavily down your neck, please return to your left as graciously as possible. Do not glare back at them. Unless you want to start a fight. We are human beings with certain tolerance limits so sometimes we do glare back at them. My tolerance limit is high. It’s my upbringing. But when MM is with me, it goes down to zero. I then not only glare back. I taunt them. I challenge them! Not to fight with me, of course. I am a gentleman. I challenge them to fight with Mighty Mouth, standing quietly besides me. It’s so fun to see her manhandle three grown men. And with just one hand.

And while they are still fighting, I found myself on the train platform. I count to 5 and MM appears, cursing “They don’t even know how to write the word “death” and they want to spar with me?” Once I had to count to ten before she appeared, dragging two of them. The third one could be heard shouting for help.

Anyway,  you are now safely on the train platform. And as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, you are bombarded with a series of announcements, “PLEASE ALLOW PASSENGERS TO ALIGHT BEFORE BOARDING. PLEASE ALLOW PASSENGERS TO ALIGHT BEFORE BOARDING.” "DO NOT STAND IN FRONT OF THE DOOR". About 50 times. Reinforced with the yellow box in front of the car door.

The announcements and the yellow boxes are no brainers. I know they are no brainers because Mighty Mouth understands them and politely stands at the side of the doors until all alighting passengers have alighted before she boards.

SO PLEASE TELL ME, THE REST OF YOU WITH MORE BRAINS, WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THIS VERY SIMPLE INSTRUCTION? WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS RUSHING IN WHEN THERE ARE PASSENGERS TRYING TO GET OUT?

WHY CAN’T YOU WAIT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

I better calm down. I am about to get a heart attack. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sigh.

It is just so sad. It happens every time. It happens every day.

Anyway, there  I was,  waiting for the train, keeping out of the yellow box, queuing  behind at least 3 others, determined not to take a step  forward until  alighting passengers have exited. The train stopped. But just before the doors opened,  passengers appeared out of nowhere, jumping queues, standing inside the yellow box. Shouts of “Fast, fast. Train here already!” could be heard. The three of us plus a few behind me, I am sure, glared at them but do they care? No, they don’t. The young man in front of me, built like Samson looked angry, but said nothing. The young lady behind me, of even more ample proportions, (she reminded me of Dolly Parton)  mumbled to herself but said nothing. So it was left to yours truly to stand up for Singapore. But before I could even open my mouth, the train doors opened and the ones on the yellow boxes rushed in. Samson stood his grounds. But Dolly pushed forward, screaming “Must not let them win!” And when Dolly pushed,  even Samson lurched forward, with me holding on to him for dear life! So what do you think happened to me? I will stand up for Singapore next time. I promise.

And so I found myself on the train, courtesy of Dolly Parton and no thanks to  Samson. The alighting passengers simply had no chance. Samson dragging me and Dolly pushing me. I felt so loved. You may want to try it sometime. Sigh.

Now let the journey begins. But let me prepare the uninitiated, the naive, the inexperienced, for this longest short journey of your life.

But  I need sometime to rest after that arduous journey on the escalators. So please bear with me  till  then.........

CHAPTER 5: WAKING UP THE DEAD AT A WAKE

So there we were, 8 of us, at the void deck of Block 216 where the wake was held, for the premiere of “MURDER BY CURSING.”

No, that was not right. We have to be respectful to the dearly departed, mindful of the bereaved and courteous to their guests. Allow me to start again.

So there we were, 8 of us, looking sad and somber. Blackie had gone ahead to Block 216 to take his position by the coffin, looking distraught, disheveled and sadder than the 8 of us combined. A complete change from the flamboyant Blackie at Block 202 just minutes ago. CCB The Danielle has disappeared with his one thousand dollars. I made a mental note to give Blackie an honorary Oscar and CCB a broken bone.

As we approach the coffin, Blackie started sobbing while his wife looked shocked and the 8 of us looked away.

After Blackie grabbed our hands to thank us, we adjourned to the white gold station, for want of a better word. There each of us coughed up our agreed $50 per head. Almost like paying for a buffet without the plus plus. And that was when CCB appeared. He avoided eye contact, walked straight to Blackie, hugged each other like long lost brothers and then went to the coffin. He bent over to look at the dearly departed and to our horror, his shoulders started heaving up and down! He was sobbing! He must either be practicing for his own mother-in-law’s farewell party or feeling bad about not keeping his promise of $1,000. This I must see for myself. CCB crying at a wake? So I walked over and was shocked to see him prying open the fist of the dearly departed!

The man is sick! I saw him inserting something into the fist and talking incoherently at the same time.

Before I could say anything, we were herded by Blackie to a table furthermost from the coffin. An assortment of drinks were waiting. The party has really begun!

Friends and relatives were milling all around us. CCB just got himself a reprieve.

Before we were all seated, Apoo from Block 222 started the ball rolling “Blackie, we must drink to your mother-in-law. A fantastic lady. Eighty five, and she didn’t need glasses! I heard she drank straight from the bottle!”

Blackie apparently never heard this one before, laughed hysterically, and did the unthinkable! The son-in-law joined in the mother-in-law joke session of his own mother-in-law’s wake!” Unheard of! His rejoinder “None of your mothers-in-law can beat mine in the big mouth category! She could eat bananas sideways!”

I  should protest – my Mighty Mouth definitely win in that category but I didn’t want to outdo the star of the show. Besides, I had promised myself to be in my best behavior. The squeals of laughter following the opening acts caught the attention of everyone on the void deck and they were all looking at us. I squirmed a little.

Andrew pretended to be disgusted and shouted “Hello, guys, don’t forget we are at a wake!” before he started laughing and thumping the table as well. The rest of us joined in.. My laughter was, however, somewhat restrained. It's my upbringing...........

Tony took the cue from Andrew and added after the first round of laughter subsided “I heard her left hook could give Blackie a black right eye in two seconds flat!” Now wait a minute, how did they know about my dream? The one turned nightmare? Before I could say anything, Stanley, the very quiet Stanley volunteered a question. Turning to Blackie he asked in a serious tone which gave the knights of the round table another reason to laugh and to thump table again “Your mother-in-law, cremate or bury?”

Blackie pretended to lower his voice,  looked around seriously before whispering loud enough for everyone to hear “Cremate first and then bury. Play safe, I don't take risks!”

Everyone went ballistic, and Apoo was laughing till tears were rolling down his cheeks. Then out of the blue, Stanley the Quiet chipped in “Maybe you should bury her in a 10 foot deep grave! I heard that deep down, she was a wonderful mother-in-law!”

No one laughed. We just stared at this new talent, mouths wide opened, scratching our heads. Where has he been hiding? Embarrassed, thinking his first attempt at telling a joke had fallen flat, Stanley mumbled an excuse and walked quickly away. His hasty retreat was greeted by shrieks of laughter and his walk turned into a run. Poor fellow. He must have thought we were laughing at him.

“Hey fellows, are we at this wake to pay our last respects or are we here to wake up the dead?” All of the idiots including the mourning son-in-law, shouted in unison “WAKE UP THE DEAD!” followed by another round of prolonged laughter. I started to protest but they simply ignored me. How did I get embroiled with this group of uncouth people? 

I gave up. I threw caution to the wind. MM won’t be at the wake. She wouldn’t dare make an appearance especially since my rumor-mongers helped spread the word she killed, no, she murdered Blackie’s mother-in-law by cursing her! It’s about time I show these upstarts a thing or two about the art of telling mothers-in-law jokes. I stood up, put up my hands to gesture that I had something important to say but the disrespectful idiots around the table didn’t look my way. So I stood on a chair and finally got their attention.

“Let’s talk about my own mother-in-law for a change. The Mighty Mouth of Singapore. Did you guys know she got married a month, no, 29 days to be exact, after the first match making session? My late father-in-law fell for her there and then. Love at first sight! Till today, no one in his family could figure out how he managed to find his own way home that day. He was so in love he forgot all about his white cane!”

I waited for my well-deserved round of applause. But they only stared at me. Quizzically. Are they slow or what? Did they miss my punchline again? I was about to explain the joke when Stanley came back, but it was a different Stanley. This one looked arrogant and determined. He smoothly took over from where I left.

“And you guys should know 5 years after, Mighty Mouth’s husband underwent cornea transplant. The first person he saw when the bandages were removed was his wife. The first question he asked was “Is it halloween?”

The cheers, the applause, the shrieks of laughter were unprecedented. They came from everyone at the void deck, including, I suspect, the dearly departed.

A star was born. From now on, Stanley shall take charge of wakes for dearly departed mothers-in-law. He was given his first standing ovation and he looked pleased as punch.

And the punch came right at that moment. Stanley the Quiet, who became Stanley the Stand-up Star now became Stanley the Punched. Right on the right eye, delivered by my dear mother-in-law in person! Serves him right for stealing my punchline. No punch….oops..no pun intended.

Don’t ask me what happened next. All 8 of us paid for our sins that night. The exceptions were CB because he’s one slippery customer and Blackie, because he no longer has a mother-in-law.

CB The Dandy is now my good friend. I am staying in his store room till it is safe to go home. He is allowing me to stay in his store-room till the investigation on the mystery of the $1000 check issued in favor of "Blackie's MIL" found in the fist of a certain dead mother-in-law is completed.

He no tell, I no tell. Promise!

But next time, I will tell you how we discourteous Singaporeans behave on the MRT. I promise.

CHAPTER 4: ….AND NOW, DISCOURTESY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so! Discourtesy has spread to your neighborhood. If only you sons-in-law out there had listened to me for once, if only you had had the courage to wash your mother-in-law’s mouth out with soap………..

The evening after MM crossed swords with Black Face, I was about to unlock the door to my flat when it suddenly opened and I was shocked to see a smiling MM, not only opening but holding the door for me, welcoming me home with the smile of the century. It’s about time she starts showing respect to the man of the house.

So I returned her smile and said sweetly “Why you so happy, mother?” I call her mother whenever I am in a good mood -which is when she is in a bad mood. I call her unprintable names when I am in a bad mood. Which is when she is in a good mood. Behind her back, of course! Why risks life and limbs?

“Black Face’s mother died in her sleep last night!” A chill went down my spine and I looked at this woman, mother of the wife, with renewed awe, respect and fear., though not necessarily in that order. And swore to myself never to make her angry again. Cross my heart and hope to die.

So I took it upon myself to round up the neighborhood sons-in-law, starting with Black Face’s husband, aptly nicknamed The Blackie because of his wife’s black face, and his dearly departed mother-in-law’s even blacker face. He will be pleased to be the star of the show. No disrespect intended.

I managed to get hold of 9 fellow sons-in-law, 8 of whom agreed to meet at the Citizens’ Corner of Block 202, a safe distance away from 216 where the wake was to be held. The idiot who could not attend was Ah Miow. Yes, Ah Miow as in cat. He told me his mother-in-law said “NO”.

The Blackie, the bereaved son-in-law, was late as usual. The rest asked the same question “How much white gold do you think I should give?” White gold is the term the Chinese uses for condolence money to help the bereaved family defray the costs of a funeral. The amount one contributes should be, in my opinion, directly proportional to the contributor’s eagerness in bidding farewell to the deceased. If you are male and do not understand this simple logic, wait till you grow up and get a mother-in-law of your own.

I asked them sternly “What would you give to have the good fortune to help bury your own mother-in-law? Use that as a guideline!” My good friend, CB the Dandy shouted “I would be ready to part with my entire fortune to have that kind of good fortune! So for Blackie’s mother-in-law, I will give one k.” I almost choked – I couldn't believe my ears. “One k? You mean one thousand, right? Singapore dollars, Malaysian ringgit or Indonesian rupiah?” I hate to do this but he is one slippery customer.

His immediate reply was “Singapore Dollars lah, of course! You want euro also can, you want US dollar also can!” I settled for Singapore dollars. Now, if CB really contributes one thousand Singapore dollars, that could appease the spirit of this dead mother-in-law and she might leave my family alone. Hopefully. But of course, she can haunt Mighty Mouth for cursing her to death. That’s only fair.

And at that point of time, the bereaved son-in-law appeared, a can of beer in hand, announcing dramatically, in his loud booming voice:

GENTLEMEN, APOLOGIES FOR BEING LATE. MY MOTHER-IN-LAW IS LATE TOO. SHE'S NOW MY WONDERFULLY LATE MOTHER-IN-LAW!

And with that, the star of the show, the mourning son-in-law, The Blackie, started laughing. He laughed so hard, tears were streaming down his cheek. But they were obviously tears of joy. How can he be so disrespectful?

The party has begun. We, the sons-in-law of Ang Mo Kio must lead the way in showing Singapore that Blackie’s mother-in-law may be dead. But courtesy is alive.

I must remind these good friends of mine, especially CB, not to wake up the dead at this wake. 

CHAPTER 3: DISCOURTESY BEGINS AT HOME......

They say that charity begins at home. So does discourtesy. Really! When my younger boy shouted “You stupid idiot” at my elder boy I should admonish him and tell him that he shouldn't do that. When he called his elder sister, my first born, my only daughter “You ugly pig!” I should send him to his room for a “time out” session and deprive him of the use of his computer for at least an hour.. But no, I laugh it off, tousling his hair and saying “Son, you are so cute!” That’s cute – but not for an eight year old! Depriving him of the use of his computer for one whole is too cruel and he may traumatized so we compromise - 30 minutes.  And 15 minutes later, I joined him, hoping to teach him a thing or two about courtesy. “You should not call your brother an idiot, or your sister an ugly pig. They are my children too you know.” And then we again giggled and laughed together because it was so funny.

But it is not funny. Really. Because he told me he learnt those words from his grandmother. Maternal grandmother that is. The wife’s mother. My mother-in-law. My nemesis. He said that woman, who puts up with me (or am I putting up with her?) who eats my food, calls me a stupid idiot and an ugly pig in front of my own kids all the time. And then suddenly my boy let go a string of unprintable expletives in Hokkien ending with the very same alphabets which I used to call Chee Beng when he makes me angry – CCB! I couldn’t believe my ears although I was puzzled as to why CCB was mentioned. I was about to drag him to wash his mouth out with soap when he quickly told me that his grandmother described me with those very words! I should wash her mouth out with soap instead! So I stormed out of the room to look for Mighty Mouth, only to find her in one of her foul moods. And you don’t mess with her when she’s in a foul mood. Actually, you just don’t mess with her, full stop. And that’s the problem with us. We don’t cultivate courtesy; we condone discourtesy. We do not teach our children and grandchildren what is right and what is wrong or how to behave. And we don’t have the guts to ask our mothers-in-law to shut up and go to hell. Sigh

Anyway, after I simmered down, I went back to ask my boy why he had mentioned Uncle Chee Beng earlier. He looked very puzzled so I said “You shouted “CCB”, remember? And his puzzled look turned into a big, wide grin. He then leaned forward and whispered into my ears and told me what “CCB” meant. And for the first time in almost 20 years, I blushed. I could have single-handedly turned our Little Red Dot a shade redder. I immediately made a solemn promise never to call Chee Beng “CCB” again. I promise.

And you guys out there - home is where a new generation of discourteous Singaporeans start to breed. So stand up, stand up for Singapore. Go and wash your mother-in-law's mouth out with soap. 

Right now!

CHAPTER 2: WHY NOT A DISCOURSE ON COURTESY?

Now, before I continue, I have to put on record that this blog was  not intended to be funny.  No, definitely not.   On the contrary, it is a very serious review of  a very serious situation – the sorry state of affair where we have a whole generation of discourteous Singaporeans who have the ability to make even the hardcore discourteous wince. My MM included. And  IT IS NOT FUNNY! Okay?

Since it was CB who planted the idea for this blog, I gave him the privilege of a sneak preview of my draft articles. That is courtesy. I am so proud of myself. But that ungrateful CCB the Danielle didn’t comment on anything except the  title  “Courtesy No Enough - A Discourse on Discourtesy”.  He  shouted at  me for choosing a title that put Singapore in a bad light. And that was how I decided on this title. I have learnt, through the years, that anything CCB objects to should be adopted  wholesale.

We are a country known for being  “kiasu”.  We  claim credit for the popular use of  this word which now boasts an  appearance in Wikipedia! We have this innate  “fear of  losing”. We want to win all the time. So they say we are discourteous, right?  Let’s show them how discourteous we can be. There is nothing to be ashamed of; let’s teach them a thing or two about discourtesy.

So, encouraged by CB’s negative response to the proposed title of this blog, I started dreaming of my  writing a whole series of blogs, designed to make Singaporeans think, take sides and stoop the unnecessary pain on their behind for sitting too long on the fence, with similarly fanciful titles like:-

Wife No Enough – A Discourse On The Benefits Of Bigamy

I have always dreamed of women chasing after me in droves and this one will do the trick. Not in my preferred manner though – they will chase after me in droves alright, but armed to the teeth with weapons of various shapes and sizes but mostly  brooms and rolling pins, thirsting after my blood, with some using their brooms for transportation purposes! I could even picture one of  them  waving a proctologist’s favorite tool at me  which  immediately sent a chill down my spine. Idea scrapped.

Babies No Enough – A Discourse On The Need For A Baby Boom

This one will have the government  showering  accolades on yours truly and maybe throw a  National Day Award in my direction for promoting the government's "Go Forth & Multiply" program! This may be my last and only chance to add some alphabets after my name! Finally I have a chance to be a man of letters. Any letters except CCB, of course.

 Mother-In-Law No Enough – A Discourse On The Hazards Of Bigamy.

I am speechless! Whatever possessed me to come up something like this? One mother-in-law is already one too many! I MUST BE OUT OF MY MIND! Idea scrapped.

So I therefore remain in seclusion as penance for my wild thoughts. Mother-in-law no enough? You want me to die izzit?

So, as I was saying, even the hardcore discourteous could wince and blush if they were to witness some of the antics of their fellow Singaporeans. But blushing is not all bad. Blushing together as a community helps make our Little Red Dot a shade redder. Kiasuism is, after all, the mother of opportunity! As the Little Red Dot grows redder, the world will become more aware of our existence. And that’s good for business. It will probably fuel a growth in tourism with more plane loads of tourists converging on our little island, boosting our economy! They want to know more about the discourteous Singaporeans, how we rush into lifts and trains, how we hog roads and escalators, how we follow ambulances on the road so that we can  beat the traffic jam. And how we pretend to be asleep on a seat reserved for the old (that's me), the weak (that's me), the sick (that's me) and the pregnant (no, no, that's not me!) The list of discourtesies is probably longer than the length of the MRT train, and specifically includes how we “chope” (Singlish for "reserve" I think) seats at food courts with tissue papers and how we have become adept at pretending not to notice when someone in front of us drop a pile of documents.  Yes, this thing called “discourtesy” is certainly good for business. The Integrated Resorts which, I believe, is Singlish for casinos, could take some learning from this too – with discourteous croupiers shouting “Hey, big mouth, no more bets!” And this very discourtesy could end up with either the gamblers losing their shirts or the croupiers losing their jobs. 

Actually  I am the least qualified person to write about discourtesy. Really! You see, I was brought up to be very, very courteous.  It was ingrained in me from  the time when I was started to utter my first word. I was taught to greet and smile at just about everyone whenever we bump into each other.  I was told that my flying kiss, when I was two, was something to kill for in the neighborhood. Remembering this, I once gave a flying kiss to a sweet young thing of 16 when I was 18. And was promptly rewarded with a flying kick  - courtesy of her boyfriend, twice my weight, one and a half times my height. Sigh. Yes, I would smile at every Tom, Dick and Harry. I would ask them “Eat already or not?” because that is  a good conversation starter. Don’t care if it is way past dinner. There is always supper to talk about. You stop to make small talk. You ask after their family and gossip sometimes but it is all in good fun. If I were to bump into a neighborhood uncle  at the food court, my first instinct would be to say “Uncle, eat slow slow” which is Singlish for “Enjoy your food!” If I were to bump into someone I know at the market, I would immediately say the obvious “Auntie, buy vegetables ah?” which is Singlish for…oh, never mind!

But no, we don’t do that nowadays. We walk around not acknowledging our neighbors. We wear scowls on our faces. We avoid eye contacts most of the time just so we will not be drawn into an unnecessary conversation. We are always in a hurry. My mother-in-law,  whenever she bumps into a scowling neighbor, which is most of the time,  or one who avoids her attempts to start a conversation, which is all the time, would come home shouting  “Her mother must be dying soon, her face so black. And rushing so fast as if she was late for her reincarnation! "  Oh, you wicked woman, thou art late for thou reincarnation too!

CHAPTER 1: THE MAGIC OF MAGIC WORDS!

“Mother, please remove your fat behind from my favorite chair. Thank you very much!” I was giving my younger son a much needed lesson on courtesy and how magic words could be used to get a positive response to a specific request. And the positive response came immediately – she was out of the chair in no time! The magic words worked! She, the wife’s mother, my mother-in-law, my nemesis the Mighty Mouth, aka MM,  removed her fat behind from my favorite chair in two seconds flat! How else could her left hook land on its target?

 I picked myself up, endured the pain, ignored the indignity and turned to my son to reinforce a lesson learnt “You see, son? The magic words worked, right? Now tell me, which were the magic words I used?” And without hesitation he shouted “Fat behind – Ah Ma jumped out of your favorite chair as soon as you said the magic words and whacked you in your eye!”  I didn’t have any energy left in me to correct him. Besides, at that point of time I heard Mighty Mouth barking in her distinctive pitch of a canine specie of the female variety “EH! YOUR CCB IS HERE! YOU HEAR ME? YOU HEAR ME OR NOT!!! 

 And that was when I woke up,  found myself on the floor of my bedroom and realized it was all a dream. Or  maybe I should call it a nightmare. Any dream featuring Mighty Mouth turns into a nightmare! Picking myself up,  I caught a glimpse of my black eye in the mirror. Only that woman is capable of inflicting real injuries in my dreams.  Or nightmares.....

So it all started on that fateful Saturday afternoon which is usually well spent on my favorite pastime – napping.  And it would have been the usual uneventful Saturday if not for that  rude awakening.  I was still trying to figure out a way to hide my black eye when she started barking again “DID YOU HEAR ME OR NOT? YOUR CCB IS HERE!” 

 “I heard you, idiot! I heard you loud and clear!” I  screamed back, “and the whole neighborhood heard you too!” Okay, I didn’t scream back. If there is anything my good upbringing has taught me well, it was that two wrongs do not make a right. And if there is anything my life as her son-in-law has taught me well,  it was that where she is concerned,  two wrongs could  end up with a left hook to the right eye!  No, I was not about to start a fight with her, not with CCB around to witness her pummeling me into submission. He will report back to  his wife and his mother-in-law which means virtually the whole of Ang Mo Kio will hear of my debacle in a jiffy.  Besides, I  was already nursing one black eye and have neither the energy nor the inclination to nurse the other.

Now, I must introduce you to CCB, full name Cheong Chee Beng. He also goes by the fanciful name of Dandy. But I think Danielle suits him better. No, he’s not effeminate. He’s just scared stiff of his female (but of course) better half.

I have known him since secondary school. For two full years, we had no contact – two years of respite. And then out of the blue, he reappeared, two floors down, same unit number, in the very same block. Some call it fate. I  don’t know what to call it.  He is known to all and sundry as CB the Dandy, but his wife, however, calls him “Chee Beng”. And when he makes her angry, which happens every time he opens his mouth, the entire neighborhood will hear her screaming  “CHEONG CHEE BENG!”  He should thank his lucky stars his surname is not “Chow”.

Anyway, I took the cue from  her,   calling  him “CCB” whenever he makes me angry. Like right now! My dear mother-in-law reads me like a book and knows I will surely be annoyed by this untimely intrusion into my Saturday afternoon nap.

I dragged myself out of my room, determined not to allow either of them to spoil whatever was left of my Saturday. And there was CCB the Danielle, grinning like a jackass. So I grinned back like another jackass. Just to irk my MM. And so, to irk her further, I greeted CCB the Danielle, now turned CB the Dandy, with an exuberant “Hello, my friend, so kind of you to drop by!”  In a softer voice, I hissed “And don’t say anything about the black eye, or else…….”

CB wasted no time and produced a copy of an article on the results of a global survey on courtesy.  Sigh. What’s new? I have heard about the findings of such a survey many times but never bothered myself with it. So I was about to scream murder and tell him off for waking me up for nothing when I remembered my mission – IRKING MIGHTY MOUTH.

So I humored CB.  I encouraged him. And he became a man possessed, jumping all over the place, muttering gibberish and gesturing like a monkey, trying to voice his opinions about the findings of the survey.  After he had calmed down, I took the crumpled article from him. CB is patriotic to the core. Any adverse comment about his beloved Singapore and his fellow Singaporeans and he would turn into Mr. Hyde.

And you know what? I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I thought  I was still dreaming. Singapore? Ranked 31 out of 35 main cities around the world in the survey on Courtesy Index? Four spots more and we will be crowned the most discourteous city in the world!  What happened to the myriads of government sponsored courtesy campaigns culminating in the “Singapore Kindness Movement?” All the efforts gone down the drain? And to add insult to injury, we scored only 42 points out of 100?

 In academic achievement minded Singapore, that was a disaster! If I had done that badly in school, my mum would have killed me!    Okay, I once ranked  31. But that was in a class of 36, not 35. Even then, I was nearly killed. And I still have the scars to show for it – most of them emotional in nature. I talk to myself whenever there is a full moon, sometimes when there is no moon. And  all the time when the wife’s mother is in residence. And she has been in residence since the day I married her daughter. She moved in before the daughter did. Sigh.

I roped in an eager CB to conduct a poll on how Singaporeans would react to the results of this courtesy survey.

Almost 30% of the folks polled  were affected enough to suffer from  severe indigestion  while another 30%  suffered from severe constipation. The rest suffered from pain in that part of their anatomy which was used to sit on the fence.