Those unfortunate enough to be suffering from floods in Thailand must have been heartened by the front page photograph in the Post last week featuring Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra and Banharn Silpa-archa striding forth with a sense of purpose through the floodwaters in Prachin Buri.
It wasn't exactly Batman and Robin, but was nonetheless a stirring sight and the premier appeared quite at home sloshing through the murky waters.
Ms Yingluck's cheerful smile might possibly fade if she finds herself having to repeat this for the rest of the month. But at least it's more fun than sitting in parliament listening to a lot of boring speeches.
The two politicians were, of course, wearing smart new Wellington boots _ ''wellies'' to give the correct technical term _ which at least looked a bit more practical than those fashion items that surfaced on the premier's walkabout during the big flood of 2011.
You may remember those pretty boots with a cute check pattern, but not such a cute price.
As it appears that the soggy socks and sandbags season is now in full swing, Ms Yingluck will likely be donning the wellies on a regular basis during this coming month, unless she gets called away on some urgent overseas trips to Montenegro or somewhere.
Diplomatic wellies
The flooding in Thailand during Ms Yingluck's two years in charge must at least make a good conversation piece when she visits dignitaries overseas.
One wonders when she met British PM David Cameron last year, if they discussed Wellington boots, as Mr Cameron spent considerable time last year rolling up his trousers while visiting flooded towns.
They might even have compared notes on their respective wellies. Mr Cameron is believed to be something of an authority on the subject, as on a trip to the US in 2010 he gave President Barack Obama's two daughters a pink and purple pair of wellies.
That incidentally sparked a political row in the UK when it was discovered the boots, although a British brand, were actually made in China.
Splashing out
There is nothing Thai people like more than to see VIPs sloshing around in floodwaters, even if they know it's purely a photo opportunity. There is something deeply satisfying about seeing bigwigs abandoning their precious limos and joining the submerged masses in their misery. After all, there is always the entertaining possibility a VIP might plunge into a pot hole and actually get a serious soaking. It doesn't matter who you are, sometime this month there's a good chance you will suffer from soggy socks. This has a nasty tendency to occur when you are on your way to a fancy function and you later have to stand there making polite conversation with someone important while trying not to make squelching noises with your feet.
Iron butterfly
It was very decent of Typhoon Wutip to fizzle out by the time it reached Thailand last week, although it still brought plenty of rain. For those wondering where the name Wutip came from, it was submitted by the meteorological authorities in Macau, and apparently means ''butterfly''. This seems a rather odd name to give something as powerful as a typhoon, but then Katrina is a very sweet name and look what happened in New Orleans.
In the Philippines, which bears the brunt of cyclones, there is currently a petition to name all typhoons after corrupt politicians to make everyone associate bad weather with bad dudes. Now that's an idea. Perhaps we could try it in Thailand, although there are probably not enough storms to go round.
However, some might argue that typhoons, destructive though they might be, are an impressive force of nature and do not deserve to be linked to such unscrupulous people.
The mugger and the drowning rabbit
One of my less pleasant flooding experiences occurred in the 1980s. It was late at night and a storm had been raging for hours. Taxis refused to go to my home on Sukhumvit Soi 49, a notorious low-lying area, so I grabbed a sam lor at an extortionate sum.
After a tortuous journey, the roads approaching my residence were deep under water. Right on cue, the sam lor driver announced he wasn't going any further.
So about a kilometre from the house, I waded off down the soi in driving rain _ I was not a happy bunny. Speaking of which, I was also concerned about the maid's pet rabbit, which lived in our garden. It was in danger of becoming a drowned rabbit.
It was pitch dark and I was almost knocked over by a bow wave from a passing limousine.
To my delight, a few metres further on, the engine gurgled and the car expired. I decided to help them out with a push _ not a good idea. It was 2am down a dark soi, in driving rain, water up to my knees.
I peered through the car window, waving my arms at the driver. By the look on his face and that of his lady friend, they thought I was either a mugger, raving lunatic or a ghost.
Admittedly, I must have looked a bit scary, so I abandoned them and splashed off down the soi to rescue the drowning rabbit.
Fortunately the wretched thing had found a perch just above the floodwaters, otherwise it could have been rabbit pie for supper.
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