“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: FIRST DAY IN BANGKOK AND DINNER WITH HONEY AND BARRY SHERMAN

The Singapore Times Exclusive: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: FIRST DAY IN BANGKOK AND DINNER WITH HONEY AND BARRY SHERMAN

Bobby Jr. took me to Bangkok for a look see and a meeting he had: a very important meeting he emphasized.

We flew on a chartered private jet and upon arrival at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport we hopped on a limo to our suite at the Peninsula Bangkok. A tremendously luxurious suite with a view of the Chao Phraya River. Bobby Jr. was a regular at the hotel and was handing out wads of cash as tips or were they “loyalty payments”? Management had a full bar prepared for Bobby Jr. but as usual he stuck to his durian juice and vodka and me to my Evian straight up.

Love those cute tugboats on the river!

After freshening up we headed to Icon Siam an enormous vertical shopping mall very high end with two floors of restaurants which Bobby Jr. referred to as “top rate”. The food court below was very low end and Bobby Jr. remarked, “You take your chances eating there!  The word food court in Singapore equates with quality but not here in Bangkok.” We had taken a shuttle boat from Peninsula Bangkok which was but a 7-minute trip. Bobby Jr. said never drive in Bangkok if you can avoid it. The traffic is deadly slow.

All Bobby Jr. wanted was a battery for his Cartier watch and to give me a flavour of Bangkok we walked home on hot and dirty streets filthy by Singaporean standards. Amid luxury dilapidated corrugated metal shacks, poverty, smells, dirty air, unsafe looking food stalls, ramshackle restaurants and stagnant traffic! Fifteen minutes of walking in this cesspool and I began to both appreciate and miss Singapore: clean, proper, organized and orderly.

Upon returning to our suite Bobby Jr. had a couple of durian and vodkas consuming an entire bag of shrimp chips tossing me a couple to enjoy with my Evian water.

We hopped aboard the Peninsula Hotel shuttle to take us across the river to an Italian-Thai fusion restaurant Mazzaro for our dinner and Bobby Jr.’s meeting. We met a lovely couple from Toronto, Honey and Barry Sherman who lived close to the Fong’s in Toronto’s Bridle Path. How nice meeting neighbours so far away! I had several slices of delicious grilled pork chops and a bit of Jasmine rice and carrots. I dozed under the table while Bobby Jr. and the Shermans talked business. They kept mentioning manufacturing the good stuff “cutting the Chinese out as their product was getting too expensive.” Some talk about a plant in Haiphong Barry had just set up.

We said our good-byes and walked back to the shuttle passing numerous massage parlours, tailors and cannabis dispensaries. Boy so many people have stiff muscles here in Bangkok, so they really require massages! Actually, Bobby Jr. stopped in for a massage and I slept on a pile of freshly washed sheets in the back room listening to jazz and the groans of those sore people getting those massages. Hope they feel better.

RKS Japanese Literature: Young Japanese Men with Literary Power in their Hands (Sōseki Natsume)

“No one with a brain in his head can stand here in the centre of the intellectual world and be indifferent to the violent upheavals going on before his eyes. We young men are the ones who hold today’s literary power in our hands, so we have to take the initiative to make every word, every phrase, count. The literary world is undergoing a spectacular revolution. Everything is moving in a new direction, and we must not be left behind. We have to make the new trends go the way we want them to, or it’s not worth being alive. The way they throw the word ‘literature’ around, you’d think it was garbage, but that’s just the ‘literature’ you hear about in places like the University. The new literature will have to influence the movement of the whole of Japanese society.”

Sōseki Natsume, “Sanshirō”, 1908-9.

RKS Japanese Literature: Empty Headed Japanese University Students (Sōseki Natsume)

“The students who flocked to Berlin to hear Hegel’s lectures”-this fellow was obviously a great admirer of Hegel-“were not driven by ambition. They did not intend to exploit the lectures to qualify themselves for making a living. No, they came because their hearts were pure. They knew only that a philosopher called Hegel transmitted from his lectern the ultimate universal Truth and, their quest for Truth a pressing need, they sought at his feet to resolve their disquieting doubts. And when they listened to Hegel with pure hearts, they were able to determine their future, to remake their personal destiny. What magnificent conceit it is for you, a Japanese University student to equate yourself with them, you and your kind who go to lectures with empty heads, who graduate and leave the University with empty heads. You are nothing but typewriters, greedy typewriters. Whatever you do or think or say is finally unrelated to the urgent life force of a changing society. And that is how you shall always be: emptyheaded until death! Empty headed until death!”

Sōseki Natsume, “Sanshirō”, 1908-9.

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: WHO IS BOBBY FONG JR.?

The Singapore Times Exclusive: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN WHO IS BOBBY FONG JR.?

Bobby Fong Jr. is Madame Fong’s 326-pound son of Madame Fong. Like Julian in the Canadian sitcom “Trailer Park Boys” he has instead of a rum and coke on the rocks a durian juice on the rocks spiked with vodka in his hands. It gives him horrid breath but as durians are omnipresent in Singapore you become rather accustomed to it.

Bobby Jr. always treated me with respect bordering on affection. No wonder. Madame Fong, his mother, had the compassion of a Cambodian viper and treated Bobby Jr. despicably. And yes, he promised me that no harm would come to me.

He struck me as a lonely guy like Steve Martin in the movie of the same name.

Certainly he was feared in Singapore. He was up to nefarious tasks as he was always collecting wads of cash from all sorts of people both of dubious character and respectable looking. And do you recall he shot up Raffles, my competitor in the Singapore Westie of the Year competition with some performance enhancing substance eliminating him as the winner making me the Singapore Westie of the Year. The man is no angel.

Oh and those two creepy Vietnamese men I saw him meet with a few times. One emaciated with a goatee and very dark medical looking sunglasses and oh those long curling nails made me want to gag! He looked a bit like Ho Cho Minh if you ask me.

What racket(s) he was running in Singapore I was not quite certain.

He was often on the phone with his mother Madame Fong and as far as I discerned, he had responsibility for “family operations” in Bangkok, Thailand and Cambodia.

I don’t recall him ever associated with a woman you might classify as a girlfriend; classic lonely guy.

After Nicomshire’s party we took a few days off and I must have walked in just about every park in Singapore.

During our resting on park benches Bobby Jr. mentioned to me his mother, Madame Fong, was being extraordinarily stupid and it would be no surprise to him if she’d be badly burnt in the house of worldly suffering. What in the hell did he mean by that? Would it somehow be linked with my liberation?

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: WHO IS MADAME FONG?

The Singapore Times Exclusive: WHO IS MADAME FONG?

As far as I knew it at the time Madame Fong was the architect and mastermind of my abduction as my journey commenced at her Family Noodle Restaurant on Spadina Avenue in Toronto.

From what I gleaned from her son Bobby Jr. Madame Fong was born in Salmon Arm, British Columbia. Her mother raised her as her father deserted the family shortly after her birth. He apparently was quite taken with a topless go-go dancer, GiGi Larue, at the local tavern. Overtaken by cheap beer, sex and Mexican marijuana Madame Fong recalled.

Madame Fong’s great grandfather Ming had emigrated to Canada from Hangzhou, China to work on the construction of a trans Canada rail line. He was treated miserably and eventually beaten to death by the foreman of his gang who escaped any prosecution as Ming was in arrears in payment of his work permit fees hence declared a public nuisance and a vagrant not worthy of protection under Canadian law. A deep streak of historic Canadian racism Hop Sing style.

Given Ming’s death was at the hands of a Caucasian, and her father was stolen by a disreputable white woman let’s say she had it in for white folk.

She took Bobby Jr. to Vancouver where she opened a noodle shop very much of a fad sweeping Vancouver where at the time an exciting night out was eating a hamburger and gooseberry pie at a White Spot restaurant.

She opened a chain of noodle restaurants expanding from Vancouver to Halifax. At a high level gloss she presented the picture of a legitimate and successful businesswoman.

She was clothed to perfect in vintage couture; Balmain, St. Laurent, Oleg Cassini, Pierre Cardin, Quant and for modernity Jean Paul Gaultier and Vincent Garnier Pressiat. Always, of course jewelry by Bvlgari.

A home in The Bridle Path area of Toronto and a chic summer residence in Ano Capri.

So much money mixed with too much legitimacy. My Westie nose detected something amiss.

I overheard Bobby Jr. speaking to his mother about her trips to Hanoi and North Korea. What is that expression…the more you stir the shit the more it smells.

In the limited interactions I had with her she was pure Arctic efficiency and reeked of heartlessness. She seemed to be on a mission and I had some part to be played in it.

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: WHO IS THIS SINGAPOREAN SHIPPING MAGNATE SIR REGINALD NICOMSHIRE?

The Singapore Times Exclusive: WHO IS THIS SINGAPOREAN SHIPPING MAGNATE SIR REGINALD NICOMSHIRE?

Humans converse with their dogs under a false impression the canine understands very little of what they say. Not so. This is the secret power of dogs and explains why we have survived thousands of years besides humans. It started as a big con for food and has devolved into something more sophisticated. Dare I say we are experts at manipulating humans and taking over the world!

Bobby Jr. is always chatting with me; whether too much vodka in his durian juice or a need to communicate with another living being; who knows.

He laughs when Nicomshire proffers a title of Sir. He has oodles of wealth but absolutely no royalty. It is no demeaning of his humble beginnings by Bobby Jr. but rather Nicomshire tries to leap over his roots. His father was a boiled sweets salesman on the streets of Liverpool. Or was he in reality a gagger exchanging sweets for drops?

Reginald, or Reggie as the lower elements of Liverpool referred to him as quit school at 11 years of age to sell pornographic postcards. Well not really. He sold them as pornographic postcards but when the seal was broken by the buyer the pornographic images were those of the Liverpool post office. The buyers were too embarrassed to request a refund.

With his postcard profits he smuggled scotch from the Scottish Highlands on barges and trucks to be distributed in Northern England. And then with the profits he purchased a dilapidated cruise ship that cruised the waterways of England where the business was sex cruises. He was a regular seaman transporting semen!

He then opened “recreation camps” in Communist Romania which were brothels for high-ranking party members. And with those profits he purchased a few rusty tankers to ply the Black Sea with whatever contraband fetched the highest price.

His wealth augmented to the point he married his wife Prunella, daughter of X a key member of Singapore’s ruling elite; using her family’s wealth he built a fleet of cargo ships transporting perfectly legal cargo except on occasion opium laden gum for the “criminal elements” of Singapore. That’s where Madame Fong became handy.

In short he constructed respectability in Singapore. A strategic supporter and funder of the PAP structure and Singaporean philanthropy and the arts. A citizen above suspicion. Had he reformed? Even a screever can move beyond hogs!

RKS Literature: The Three Evils of the Tramp’s Life: HUNGER (George Orwell)

“The first is hunger which is the almost general fate of tramps. The casual ward gives them a ration which is probably not even meant to be sufficient, and anything beyond this must be got by begging-that is, by breaking the law. The result is that nearly every tramp is rotted by malnutrition; for proof of which one need only look at the men lining up outside any casual ward.”

George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: VICTORY PARTY WITH THE ELITE OF SINGAPORE

The Singapore Times Exclusive: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: VICTORY PARTY WITH THE ELITE OF SINGAPORE

Immediately after the winners of the Singapore Westie of the Year were announced Sir Reginald Nicomshire invited all in attendance to a large, tented area for a late lunch of various grilled meats and fish, salads and large tubs of Poor Poor and Tiger Lager: all for the “common folk” noted Bobby Jr.

That evening Nicomshire was hosting a party at his mansion and Bobby Jr. and I were invited.

Westies were running to and fro picking up crumbs and chunks of fallen meat. I rather liked Raffles who wasn’t bothered by his disqualification for performance enhancing drugs in his urine courtesy of Bobby Jr.’s syringe of “juice”. He invited me to vermin hunt in the kitchens of Raffles Singapore Hotel. Sounded like an activity to look forward to and of course to preserve the hotel’s reputation we had to keep that on the sly! I was flabbergasted to hear a team of Westies were operating at the hotel to hunt cockroaches and uncover colonies of bed bugs. Thank goodness none of this scandalous activity was occurring at Singapore Shangri-La.

After a chunk of satay chicken Bobby and I headed to the Chi, the spa at Singapore Shangri-La which for me was a grooming and bath in jasmine scented water while Bobby Jr. had a hot stone massage and manicure. When you are invited to Sir Reginald Nicomshire’s Good Class Bungalow (GCB) in the Bukit Timah area of Singapore you better look and smell like a million bucks Bobby Jr. remarked.

At 19:00 a Jaguar, chauffeured by a beautiful Malay woman picked us up transporting us to Nicomshire’s GCB.

Nicomshire greeted us at the door, gin and tonic in hand, Prunella his well preserved and quite pickled wife at his side. I was picked up and given a hug by Nicomshire whilst Prunella moaned, “My allergies!”

Nicomshire introduced us to many guests mostly the political and financial elite of Singapore. So many governmental types from the ruling Political Action Party. Senior ministers with protégés most of them Presidential scholarship students destined for power and prestige in the Singapore family compact as in Singapore government is described by many as a “family business”.

While cocktails and champagne flowed several members of the Singapore Symphony Orchestra played soothing background music.

Bobby Jr. knew many of the guests and chatted amiably with many of them. I wonder why! As there were no other dogs Bobby Jr. undid my lease and said enjoy the back lawn noting it was fully enclosed with an 18-foot fence and no exit points. Not taking his word on this, I meandered about and yes indeed no chance of escape but again what would I do and where would I go if I escaped?

Dinner was served in a large tent in the back lawn and guests ate at tables in the airconditioned comfort of the ballroom entertained by Jazz Quartet Singapore. Just about any type of food you desired including specialities like Malaysian crocodile steaks, Pernakan Pizza, Singapore Duck, Cambodian Chicken a la Pol Pot, Orchard Street Orangutang and Indonesian Wild Snake Curry. I enjoyed the Cambodian chicken with my usual bowl of Evian which the servers were attentively filling as needed. A huge slice of seedless watermelon cooled one down beautifully.

As we were about to leave Madame Fong appeared in a spectacular Mary Quant gown and some heavy-duty jewellery. I am sure all that sparkled was real.

She was engaged in an animated conversation with Sir Nicomshire like old friends who tend to argue bitterly from time to time. What were they arguing about? Who is this Madame Fong? Who is Sir Reginald Nicomshire? How did I fit into this all?

RKS Literature: What are Dreams? (Thomas Nasche)

“A dream is nothing else but a bubbling scum or froth of the fancy; which the day hath left undigested; or an after feast made of the fragments of an idle imagination. A dream is nothing but an echo of our conceits in the day. In them all states, all sexes, all places are confounded and meet together. When all is said and done, melancholy is the mother of dreams, and of all terrors of the night whatsoever.”

Thomas Nasche (1567-1601), “Terrors of the Night”

“Lost in Puppydom: Rory Dylan Stephen’s Puppydom”: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN: AND THE WINNER OF THE SINGAPORE WESTIE OF THE YEAR IS……

The Singapore Times Exclusive: THE ABDUCTION OF RORY DYLAN STEPHEN AND THE WINNER OF THE SINGAPORE WESTIE OF THE YEAR IS……

Up at 05:00. Breakfast delivered to our suite. Lots of watermelon. Chopped boiled chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans. A meal fit for a champion Booby Jr. chuckled as he downed a litre of durian juice with a generous addition of vodka and a large steak with two fried eggs on it.

The car was brought round to the hotel entrance and we proceeded to Punggol Waterway Park the site of the competition. The heat was mounting as we parked and made it along The Waterway to the competition field.

Checking in at the registration booth I eyed my fellow West Highland Terrier competitors. They numbered 63 in total. Most were on the short side with stumpy legs and the poor fellows looked overheated already panting away. So much for Singaporean Westies thriving in the tropical heat. Cute Westie longhairs but no way to maintain coolness. I had been shaved down USMC style prior to my abduction so I was as cool as a Westie could possibly be. The Singaporean Westies appeared lethargic but I was pepped up and ready to fire on all cylinders despite the fact all the judges had been “convinced” by Bobby Jr. to ensure I would be the champion. Now to be fair, I was so hyped up with adrenaline from all the stress an abduction generates I felt I could run to Malysia and back. Not that these Singaporean Westies were cute but stupid but the tropics seemed to have dulled them. Does a Scottish highland dog belong in the tropics?

The minimum age for entry was one year and at 9 months forged Singaporean Canine Breeder papers aged me just a bit. My assumed name was “Cuddle Cakes” the name Madame Fong had pinned me with.

We sidled past ruddy faced Brit Sir Reginald Nicomshire a Singaporean shipping magnate and chairman of the organizing committee who gave us a nod and a wink. Nicomshire was “Westie mad” but his wife Prunella forbade any dogs in their mansion. Those who can’t have Westies associate around with those that can! A Westie groupie?

At 07:00 the competition started with the Good Looks competition. My muscular body, cute brown eyes, beautifully proportioned ears and my wet twitchy nose outclassed (in my opinion) the rest of the Westies.

Intelligence was based on beans in a cup. Three upside down cups. We watched a man cover a bean with a cup and mix the cups around on a table. We were to snout the cup with the bean. Easy win.

Being closely shorn cuddleability was not my forte and having a bit of remaining puppydom in me I was a tad squirmy. Raffles, a porty but extremely agile Westie must have won that competition. Raffles was the mascot of the Raffles Hotel in Singapore and was, amongst other things, a greeter of guests at the hotel so he had the charming skills down to perfection. Perhaps all those treats thrown his way by appreciative guests made him a bit portly?

The begging skills competition was very close with Raffles putting in a jolly effort. My eyes are my best begging weapon although I did let out a bit of a bark at a chunk of chicken that was waved in front of my nose. Points deducted I’m sure.

Not even close in the compatibility with other dogs competition as Raffles being a true Singaporean Westie known to many of the competitors. I was, after all, a foreigner in the mix if you looked beyond the forged Singaporean Canine Breeder papers.

I felt it was close on the vermin and rat hunting competition but again Raffles put on a good show. No wonder! I heard a few of the onlookers mumble there were more rats at Raffles Hotel Singapore than anyone wanted to admit. Guess who chased them!

Speed was my game! Long legs, muscular and lean. Poor Raffles, portly as he was, lumbered on panting heavily. Probably could have used some canine Ozempic.

The judges retired to muse over the results.

While Bobby Jr. was downing a Durian cocktail at the refreshment tent I noticed a skinny man with a horrid complexion leaning into Bobby Jr.’s ear. His faced clouded over. I later learnt that Raffles had won in total points. One of the “compensated judges” had a serious traffic accident en route to the competition and the substitute judge, cousin of the manager of the Long Bar at Raffles Singapore was just a bit biased in favour of Raffles.

I saw Bobby Jr. place a small packet into the skinny poor complexioned man’s hand.

I had placed second overall and a urine test was administered to the top four Westies. We all passed but wouldn’t you know it. Raffles’ urine was found to contain performance enhancing drugs. The skinny poor complexioned man was later given a wad of cash by Bobby Jr. in the parking lot. That syringe of his did the trick.

We gathered in front of the stage to hear the announcement congratulating Cuddlecakes as the Singaporean Westie of the Year. I received a small solid gold medal with an inscription “Cuddlecakes Singaporean Westie of the Year”.

Bobby Jr. gave me a big hug and with a sly smile and said, “Well done my friend. This is just the means to what may be a bad end.” Was there a connection with the poison he had been conversing about on his mobile telephone last night.

Off to the post event reception at the mansion of ruddy faced Brit Sir Reginald Nicomshire.