The Singapore Times Exclusive: BOBBY FONG JR. THE FAGAN OF SINGAPORE AND NO WAY I AM TO BE OLIVER TWIST
Madame Fong’s son Bobby Jr., a fat man with a stomach the size of three Russian Wolfhounds and horrific bad breath attributable to excessive Durian consumption, was ordered by his mother to acclimatize me to Singaporean culture and its climate.
Bobby Jr. drove up to the shop house to pick me up in a huge shiny black Mercedes and tossed me in the front on a booster seat so I had a view of Singapore.
Just waiting for his car for a few minutes outside the shop house was like being hit by a wall of heat and humidity! Did someone say the seasons of Singapore are heat and rain?
Bobby Jr. pointed out this and that site but gosh Singapore is modern, clean and where were the homeless and strung-out drug addicts like in Toronto or Vancouver?
I couldn’t see much character to Singapore as it was looking veery much like a clean Canadian city but every place has its own vibe and culture, and it would take me time to discover it.
Our first stop was Merlion Park with a 28-foot high cool fishy-lion statute shooting water out of its mouth. Bobby Jr. told me Merlion is a mythical creature possessing the body of a fish and a lion. It makes sense as Singapore was once a fishing village. The lion part of Merlion is founded with Sang Nila Utama, a prince of Palembang, who was thrown by a tempest onto the shores of Singapore where he spotted a lion like creature. Hence lion and fish. In Sanskrit “Singapura” means lion city.
The Merlion fountain area was crammed full of tourists many wearing the old fogey Tilley hats that made them look like 85-year-olds! Bobby Jr. snickered and said, “Good for business these FOB tourists. Easy money if you can stand the smell of sunscreen!”
Across the bay was a very cold looking modern casino hotel. Bobby Jr. chipped in, “We launder some of our money there.”
On our way to the car Bobby Jr. sauntered off behind a row of porta potties to meet a few young skinny men all wearing sunglasses. Each one of them handed Bobby Jr. a packet wrapped in brown paper and dispersed quickly in different directions.
Once in the car Bobby Jr. turned to me and said, “Being a dog you don’t understand me, so I’ll give you the skinny. These men are highly skilled pick pockets who “we” recruit from Vietnam. They have honed their skills for generations in Vietnam, particularly in Ho Chi Minh City (once called Saigon) with years of French and American occupation of that part of Vietnam pickings from foreigners could be impressive. Pickpocketing is a generational skill in Ho Chi Minh City. The absolute elite Vietnamese pick pocketers are found in vicinity of the Long Bien bus terminal in Hanoi. They are so good they could remove all your teeth and your wallet, and you wouldn’t feel a thing. In return we provide lodgings, food and protection from Singaporean immigration and police.
If you weren’t such a high priced investment for us you could be out there diverting and distracting rich tourists already distracted by the heat and humidity and our boys would increase their haul!”
Bobby Jr. is beginning to resemble a Fagan and thank goodness I am not a new trainee like Oliver Twist was.
Bobby Jr. then said we should have lunch but first he wanted to pick up a mega sized Durian juice and a bottle of Evian for me.
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