I have
returned to Singapore after much journeying. It feels like I have spent as much
time in the air in the past few weeks as I have on the ground. I have
circumnavigated the globe. There have been highs and lows in my travels as there
always are. Especially during aircraft take offs and landings.
I have had
several moments of madness. I was temporarily obsessed with the birth of the
Royal baby when I was in London and then I found myself pitying the madman who
is Jens - my somewhat deranged Danish neighbour.
Jens has been
released. I discovered this when I returned to the Island yesterday. In the
couple of days that I was back in Singapore following my return from London but
before my departure for Australia - I was informed by my building Manager Mr.
Tan that Jens had been arrested for peeing in a public place. This revelation
did not particularly surprise me. Jens remains the prime suspect in the
pooing-in-the-pool incident earlier this year and he is as mad as a cut snake.
Before I
departed for Australia I rang the Authorities to enquire about Jens welfare.
They would not disclose to me what he was being held for or what would become
of him. I gave them my name and telephone number and told them that I was his
friend. I am not really - however I suspect that Jens has few friends in this
world and he might need one at the moment.
When my taxi
dropped me off at my apartment complex yesterday I was greeted by one of the
Raj's. We have two Raj's who are the Security guards of the complex in which I
live. Despite my protests the one Raj opened my taxi door and then he stood
back and snapped to a rigid attention as I alighted. I was given a grandiose
salute which I had no other option but to return. My taxi driver looked on with
no small degree of bemusement.
"At ease
Raj"
I said.
"How
are you mate?"
"Good
be evening to you Mr. Peter" Raj replied
"I am
being very well thank you and I am in an astonishment of delightfulness that
you have being returned"
"I am
in an astonishment of delight to be back Raj"
Whilst I paid
the taxi driver his fare Raj removed my bag from the boot of the taxi.
The boot of a
taxi is the back bit where luggage and other items are able to be stored. The
reason it is referred to as a boot dates back to the early part of eighteenth
century in England. These were times when vehicles were drawn by horses as cars
had not yet been invented. These horse drawn vehicles were known as coaches and
were driven by men called coachmen. The coachmen used to sit on a locker where
they could store, amongst other things, their boots. This box was termed a
'boot locker'. Later in the century an additional compartment was situated at
the rear of coaches for the same purpose. The term became abbreviated to a
'boot' and when the car was invented the name stuck.
Americans
refer to car boots as 'trunks'. Why this is so is of no interest to me
whatsoever. Americans very commonly brutalize the English language. To me a
trunk is an appendage of an elephant. It is a very large and grey appendage. It
is not a boot.
"Where
is the other Raj, Raj?" I enquired.
I have only
ever before seen the two Raj's together.
"He is
being sickly and unwell today Mr. Peter" Raj replied.
"Oh
dear"
I responded.
"I
hope it is nothing too serious"
"He is
being coughing and sickening since yesterday Mr. Peter but he is being
betterment for tomorrow'
"Then
he is OK?" I asked.
Much of what
the Raj's say to me is baffling but they deliver it in such a manner that it
delights me.
It really
does.
"He is
OK"
Raj replied.
"Is
there any news about Jens?"
"The
Danlander man has being been released from his imprisonment last weekness and
he is arriving here home only a short while ago"
"He is
home now then?"
"Yes
he is being home now Mr. Peter sir"
"I
will take my bag upstairs then and will pop in and see him"
I wrestled my
bag from Raj and implored him not to salute me but it was to no avail. The
whole saluting thing is becoming embarrassing and awkward for me and I do not
know how to stop it.
I took my bag
upstairs to my apartment and then caught the lift down to Jens floor. I was
curious about what exactly had transpired in the arrest of the Dane and I had
some genuine concerns for his welfare. I wanted to see if he was alright. Jens
is insane so he will never actually be alright - but you know what I mean.
Jens answered
the door in a filthy white singlet and some yellow stained underpants and he
still had his normal deranged appearance about him. It was however overshadowed
by an air of fatigue. The big Dane had obviously been through a lot in the time
that I had been away. I could tell this just by looking at him. I asked Jens
whether he was alright and he gave me a passive, "Ya"
Jens grunted a
gesture for me to come inside his apartment but I told him that I couldn't stay
as I had to go and unpack and I was very hungry. I told Jens that I had a cold
roast leg of lamb upstairs in my fridge that had to be eaten or thrown away and
I also had an unopened bottle of Old Monk rum that he was welcome to come up
and drink. I told him that we could yack while I unpacked and I was interested
in hearing all about the shenanigans he had gotten himself into.
Jens eyes lit
up at the mention of the Old Monk rum. It is very sweet and strong and is
extremely powerful. Old Monk can only be obtained in the State of Maharashtra
in India. I use it for cooking but I have also fed it to Jens before. He loves
it.
Half an hour
later Jens knocked on my door. He was still a little dis-shevelled looking with
his wild hair and his untrimmed beard but he had at least put some clothes on.
I sat him on my couch and poured him a heavy shot of the Monk and left the
bottle on the table. I told him to help himself. He grunted a guttural Scandinavian
noise of what I assumed was thanks and he immediately threw the one that I had
poured him straight down his gullet. He then poured himself another. Jens likes
all his drinks neat. As I pulled the leg of lamb from the fridge I asked Jens
was it true that he had been imprisoned for pissing in the park.
"Modderfokkers" he snarled.
I took this to
be a yes and Jens soon confirmed this fact. He affirmed that he had indeed been
arrested for taking a piddle in the gardens of the Eastcoast park. He indicated
that this has also happened once before. Jens was not actually arrested while
taking a piddle at the Eastcoast Park. He was caught on film doing it and was
arrested later in the day.
I had taken
the leg of lamb from the fridge and gave it a sniff to see if it was still
edible. It appeared alright. As I was preparing to cut up the lamb the thought
occurred to me that perhaps the Dane might prefer to gnaw it straight from the
bone. When I offered it up Jens shrugged and grunted an affirmation. He
then took the leg from me and started to gnash away. I noticed that I also had
a half eaten chicken in my refrigerator so I offered this up to Jens as well.
He didn't hesitate and took it from me unsmilingly. He looked even more the
part of a modern day Viking as he clutched hunks of meat and chicken with one
hand whilst gulping down mouthfuls of Indian rum with the other. His beard was
stained with both.
When I asked
the crazy Dane how it was that he was released from imprisonment he chuckled
with his mouth open and I could see disgusting pieces of chewed up meat amongst
a grey-pink tongue and yellow teeth.
It was very
unpleasant.
Jens uttered
words that sounded like "goovernment" and "Coonsulate" but
it was hard to make out much of what he saying as he was speaking with both
food and rum in his mouth. This was not an attractive sight at all. I can only
assume that there was some sort of political intervention made on Jens behalf.
He works for a very big Scandinavian Oil Company that likely has connections
with Russian and Singaporean and Indonesian Oil interests. Big Players. Power
brokers.
The Dudes.
Jens has suggested
to me in the past that he feels that his anger and remorse and heavy drinking
relate mostly to matters of the heart. He told me that he has a number of
ex-wives and children scattered around the globe and falling in love was
something he did too readily. When I asked Jens how many ex-wives he had he
held up three fingers at me and he roared "four'. So I it is unclear how
many he actually has. It could well be six or seven.
As Jens was
devouring my leg of lamb and chicken and Old Monk rum I asked him if there was
anything that I could do for him in the brief time that I had before I had to
fly off to India to do some more work.
He told me
that there wasn't.
"Aye
hooft to oop to woork teymoro"
It turns out
that Jens has to 'hooft to oop" to an oil rig off Malaysia tomorrow
where he will work for ten days solid as a Rig Engineer. Then he will return to
Singapore for ten days off where he will resume drinking himself into a stupor
and riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle around the place. Hopefully without
killing himself or anyone else in the process.
After
devouring my lamb and chicken and the entire bottle of Old monk Rum I told Jens
that he must leave. I told him that I had to go to bed. As he stood up to
depart he staggered a bit. He wobbled on his feet. An entire bottle of Old Monk
rum is a lot for any one person to drink. I asked Jens a bit cheekily whether
he would like to use my toilet before he left. I also asked him whether he knew
what a toilet actually was.
He gave me one
of his trademark manic grins in response and called me, "modderfokker
skeepy the boosh kengeroo".
Then he
surprised me by embracing me with a monstrous bear hug.
I was touched
by the gesture and was crushed by the embrace but at the same time I was
repulsed by the odor of the man. It choked me. I could also feel the matted
hair on his back through his sweaty tee shirt.
Which repulsed
me further.
As I ushered
the big Dane out of my apartment I told Jens that I hoped that he will refrain
in the future from peeing in public parks and pooing in the apartment pool. As
much for mine and his own sake but as well as for the populace of Singapore.
He cackled
manically again at my comments - without uttering a reply - then he reeled his
way down the hallway.
I
slept with all of my windows open last night in order to rid my apartment of
the odor of lamb, chicken, Old Monk rum and the unwashed Dane.
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