Earlier this week I was sitting in the customary traffic jam on Sukhumvit near Phra Khanong Bridge and found myself gazing at the tangled mess of overhead cables which have decorated Bangkok's streets for so long. It was not a pretty sight, especially dangling in front of ageing shophouses and filthy iron grilles that are not exactly a vision of splendour themselves.
I recall about three years ago the former governor of Bangkok reassuring us that all those ugly overhead cables would be gone "within two years". Thankfully nobody took too much notice of these promises as city officials have been saying that sort of thing for decades.
Work has admittedly started in dealing with what is sometimes referred to as "sky spaghetti". But the very thought of having to move hundreds of kilometres of cable underground is enough to make even the bravest politician tremble.
For a start it requires an awful lot of digging, even by Bangkok standards. It is mainly pavements that are dug up, but also the odd stretch of road which will mean more traffic jams. On the pavements we could even face the possibility of pedestrian jams.
It's not going to be a fun for pedestrians that's for sure. Although the possibility of getting strangled by overhead wires may diminish, potholes will still be waiting to entrap any wayward walkers. Ambulatory citizens will also still face the threat of being run over by motorcycles or treading in something distinctly unpleasant.
Squirrel alert
Bangkok's citizens have been long resigned to the cables as being a familiar part of the urban scenery and accept the situation with an air of weary indifference. However, the cables are one of the first things visitors notice. They have even been photographed by such notables as philanthropist Bill Gates and actor Russell Crowe.
Some tourists are so fascinated by the mess they even take selfies with the cables as a backdrop. Well, it makes a change from temples, elephants and tuk-tuks. There must be a certain perverse joy about posing in front of dangling wires.
There are a few people who even prefer things to stay the way they are. Some see the cables as a kind of avant-garde art form, which with all due respect is stretching things a bit.
We must also not forget the city's squirrel population. The cables are the only way they can get around in the centre of the city. No longer will they be able to take delight in racing up and down Sukhumvit on the wires, making faces at the motorists stuck in the traffic. Now they can't even get across the road.
One fears we might be in for a few more cases of squashed squirrels.
Something to chew on
Following on from last week's item about the novelty songs Hole in the Ground and Right Said Fred by Bernard Cribbins, there are a few more numbers of that ilk that deserve a mention.
Perhaps the most entertaining novelty song of that era came from talented Glaswegian Lonnie Donegan whose song Does Your Chewing Gum Lose its Flavour on the Bedpost Overnight? was a huge hit in 1959. It came out at a time when chewing gum was becoming popular in England particularly amongst teenagers who saw it as a mild form of rebellion.
The song sparked a brief craze amongst schoolboys in the UK of sticking chewing gum on their bedposts before they went to sleep. This prompted considerable anguish amongst mothers who spent hours trying to scrape the wretched stuff off. I tried it once and my mother was definitely not amused. Chewing gum was henceforth frowned upon in our house.
Another popular Donegan number which came out in 1960 was My Old Man's a Dustman which was more a music hall style of song rather than the skiffle associated with Donegan. It prompted one of the more unusual album covers featuring a grinning Donegan holding his guitar while standing in a dustbin (garbage can for American readers).
Lonnie's legacy
Donegan, who died in 2002, was regarded as the "King of Skiffle", a simple music and the forerunner of pop music as we know it today. Apart from guitar and drums, instruments included washboard, tea chest one-string bass, combs and just about anything from the kitchen with which you could make a noise.
John Lennon's original Quarrymen was a skiffle group and big names such as Roger Daltry, Ronnie Wood, Van Morrison and Jimmy Page all began their careers playing skiffle.
Donegan inspired a whole generation of musicians. The Beatles were great fans and Paul McCartney recalls "We all bought guitars to be in a skiffle group. Lonnie Donegan was the man."
Cabbage music
My mate Richard next door knew a few guitar chords and I was quite handy on the saucepans, so at the age of 10 we formed our own two-boy skiffle group. After Donegan's first hit Rock Island Line in 1956 I remember us sitting in a cabbage patch in our back garden bashing away. Terrific fun.
Alas we didn't pass the audition. Our skiffle career came to an abrupt end in mere days when neighbours complained about the racket. To be fair, saucepans played badly can be painful on the ear.