COMMENTARY
ROGER CRUTCHLEY
More discerning readers might want to know what on Earth Crutch's column is doing on a page that is otherwise full of perceptive comment, thought-provoking articles and intellectually stimulating discussion, helmed by fresh-faced whiz kids full of energy and a joie de vivre. With the Sunday Outlook section being put out to pasture, there was some talk of Crutch being taken off to the dog pound or the knacker's yard, but the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Aging Hacks must have intervened, so here we are.
I've been informed there should be no more whining about potholes, puddles or petrified pedestrians. No politically incorrect comments about people with bald heads or generous girth. Start tackling issues of substance, they say. Now, that could be a bit of a problem.
Morning has broken
On Tuesday I surfaced earlier than usual owing to a morning press conference. Switching on the TV to find out the football transfer deadline news, I was greeted by the Thai prime minister announcing a state of emergency and assorted other proclamations about behaving ourselves in the coming days. At least there wasn't any martial music or glum-faced army officers sitting in a row. That's always a bit of a worry.
Heading off to the press conference, there were few indications of any emergency on my side of town, apart from a few schoolkids looking a bit bewildered after being sent home. The traffic was a mess as usual, not helped by an elephant taking a morning stroll in the inside lane. Perhaps he was off to join the "mob". The BTS skytrain was jam-packed. Getting on at the terminus I was congratulating myself on grabbing a seat in most undemocratic fashion. It was short-lived bliss. An elderly gentleman who got on at Phrakhanong looked like he was about to expire, so I gave him my seat. It was not until later that I realised he was about 10 years younger than me. Another bad decision by Crutch.
Married to the mob
One of the more curious English words to have entered the Thai language over the years is the aforementioned "mob", an expression we've been hearing regularly on Thai TV and radio the past few weeks in reference to the PAD protesters. I first heard this word in Thailand back in 1992 when there were huge demonstrations against Gen Suchinda. It seemed an unfair description, because for most of the time there was nothing remotely "mob-like" about the crowd . A mob is defined as a "disorderly crowd, rabble." and those 1992 demonstrators - consisting of middle class mums, dads and students - were definitely not a rabble. They were more a "multitude" or a "throng". Which brings us to the current demonstrations. Although the first "mob" was definitely becoming a pain in the backside, for the most part they had been reasonably orderly. But as soon as another "mob" showed up, things deteriorated rapidly. Better no "mobs" at all, I say.
If you want to talk about a real "mob", then the scramble for the buffet at a Thai wedding reception isn't a bad example. Now, that can be quite frightening, something like the Charge of the Light Brigade. Admittedly, there is not usually any major violence, although Crutch has witnessed caviar canapes and salmon sandwiches being used as quite effective weapons. And on one occasion, I spotted a splendid scene of two ladies arguing at the buffet table, with one of them angrily waving a giant prawn at the other.
Getting into the swing
Something that has become clear is that a lot of the current protesters are keen golfers. This can only explain why among the weapons seized by police were dozens of golf clubs, mainly drivers and three-woods and what looked like the odd five-iron. Presumably with a lot of time on their hands, the protesters have plenty of opportunity to practice their golf swings. Maybe the PAD should organize a golf tournament, the "Mob Invitational". It could even become an annual event. Attracting sponsorship might be bit of a problem though.
The owl and the pussycat
Many thanks to readers who offered suggestions on how to get rid of the pigeons from the Crutch residence, mentioned in Postscript two weeks ago. However "shoot the buggers" seems a bit on the drastic side. The suggestion "play loud heavy metal music" might be effective, but definitely would not go down very well with the neighbours, not to mention Crutch's sensitive ears. Perhaps a quick blast of Britney Spears might do the trick - that's enough to scare even the most hardened pigeon. I even tried hijacking the neighbour's cat but it fled the scene.
So it looks like it's back to Option A, purchasing a plastic owl to scare them off. Unfortunately I haven't located one yet, despite spending hours traipsing around Seacon Square last weekend. I was offered plastic ducks, plastic piggies, plastic chickens, plastic crocodiles and even plastic dinosaurs, but there was not even a hint of an owl.
For the time being it looks like it's back to clapping my hands and saying "shoo". The original Bangkok Post niteowl, Bernard Trink, used to have a wooden owl on his desk which I was thinking of pinching, but that seems to have flown away. So I'm stuck with the pigeons. Anyway, with apologies to Trink, I don't give a hoot!
- Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com
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