I wrote this during the last general elections and it's taken me this long to post it. JH
So, the election results have just come in, bringing to an end a very eventful couple of weeks. Friendships have broken up, unexpected alliances formed. And in some cases, inspiration has flowered.
The day after the results, Saffy came home looking thoroughly disgruntled.
“Oh. My. God!” she sighed. Her dejected bosom deflated on cue as she collapsed onto the couch.
Amanda looked up from her latest issue of Vogue. “What happened?” she asked cautiously.
Saffy spoke to the ceiling. “I was in two cabs today, and in each one, the taxi driver insisted on talking to me about the elections!”
Apparently, the one taking Saffy to Takashimaya spent the entire trip along the CTE running through all the things that were wrong with Singapore, while the one that took Saffy home did nothing but complain about the people complaining about Singapore.
“And all I wanted to do was to listen to my new Taylor Swift music on my iPhone!” Saffy complained. “But they just kept on talking!”
“It’s a First World problem,” Amanda observed.
“Well, not if you listened to the first taxi driver. One of the things he was complaining about was how the roads in Singapore are in such terrible shape they’re practically Third World!”
Amanda arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t it amazing what some people complain about?”
“God, it’s all given me a headache!”
Later that night, over dinner at Adam Road, Saffy recounted the story to Sharyn.
“Aiyah, politics, hor, cannot win, one,” Sharyn said, her enormously magnified eyes rolling in despair. “My mudder and fadder all vote PAP, but my mudder-in-law always say if she can vote, she vote Worker Party! One time at my house at Chinese New Year, they all fight, fight, fight, so suay, my whole year got bad luck!”
“People should never talk about politics,” Amanda said as she delicately speared a piece of apple from the rojak. “It never ends well for anyone.”
“Yah, same with Kardashian!” Sharyn said.
Three sets of eyes swiveled up from their char kway teow to stare at her. Sharyn noticed the sudden spotlight. “Yah what!” she said defensively. “You talk about Kim Kardashian and some people think you siow! But I don’t care. I like to watch. What I watch is my own business. Right or not?” she asked, jabbing me in the ribs.
“I just have no idea why anyone in the right minds would ever enter politics,” Amanda said. “I mean, it’s such a thankless job. You get criticized for every single mistake you make!”
“Welcome to my world,” Saffy said. “It’s just like being in HR. Everyone hates you!”
“Ay, I like you, what!” Sharyn told Saffy.
“Yes, but you work in HR too, so that doesn’t count!”
“What would I stand for if I ever went into politics?” Amanda wondered.
“More to the point, which party would you be in?” Saffy asked.
“I’m not sure I like all that white,” Amanda thought, her lovely limpid eyes staring off into an alternative universe in which she was Singapore’s first female prime minister. “I have such fair skin as it is, I would just fade away into the background! What would I wear on the campaign trail?”
“What are the Workers Party colours?” Saffy asked as she whipped out her phone to Google the question. “Red, yellow and blue from the looks of the website.”
“Hmm,” Amanda hummed. “I’ve got some lovely Missoni outfits that have those colours.”
“Hah?” Sharyn said. “That is your party platform? Your outfit?”
“Well, you can’t run a country looking like a slob, Sharyn!” Saffy told Sharyn. “It’s all about your outfits! Would you go to a Taylor Swift concert if she just wore the same thing all night?”
Sharyn pursed her lips and gave the matter some thought. “Yah, I suppose so, lah,” she said after a while. “Like a wedding. Must have different nice outfit!”
“There you go,” Saffy said encouragingly.
“But what would you campaign about?” I asked Amanda.
“I’ll tell you what she can campaign about!” Saffy interrupted. “She can make it illegal for taxi drivers to talk about politics to their passengers! Actually, she should make it illegal for taxi drivers to talk to their passengers at all!”
“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” I asked.
Saffy’s bosom inflated. “No, it’s not! I’m always so angry by the end of the trip! Hey, maybe I should run for office, too! You can make me minister for manpower or something, Amanda. I’m so qualified for the job!”
“I can make coffee in the Istana!” Sharyn said.
Amanda said at this rate, she might as well run on a platform of cronyism.