...so this bloke comes up to me...

i've had my fair share of drunkards and weirdos come up to me over the years to communicate random nonsense - it often happens in london and frequently on sydney's oxford street but it's never happened to me in singapore - that is until a couple of nights ago

i have been approached on a number of occasions over the years by the usual aging prostitutes who populate the environs of orchard towers and all down that side of orchard road after dusk with their familiar mantra, 'harro, where you from?' - then there are those shifty looking individuals who sidle up to you whispering 'you wanna buy copywatch?' - there's an old guy who hangs around outside muddy murphy's every night without fail carrying an old battered suitcase full of them, though i've never seen him do any business

one of the most memorable encounters i had with a local offering dubious services was from an old trishaw driver when i was walking back late one night from the now defunct drama centre in fort canning park after one of the various stage club shows i had been acting in (if that's not too strong a word for prancing across a stage in a leotard and a tutu waving a fairy wand) - 'you wanna ride, boss?' was his opening gambit which when turned down was followed up with 'you wanna woman? got nice woman for you' and finally when i turned that down he finished with 'you wanna girl?' - gobsmacked by his last offer i replied, 'no but you can call me a taxi', after which he rode away - funnily enough he didn't come back with the obvious reply, 'o.k., you're a taxi'

but no drunkards or loonies as such have ever given me hassle until last tuesday - i was crossing claymore road with my bag containing my sliced fish hor fun supper and my headphones over my ears, listening to 'northern sky', one of my favourite nick drake songs when a middled-aged white-haired caucasian, who must have just staggered across the road from muddy murphy's, was suddenly standing in front of me with his face so close to mine i could smell the strong odour of bourbon on his breath - i could just make out that he was asking me a question and he had a very intense look on his face - oh fuck, i thought, he's either picking a fight or asking for directions to one of the girlie bars in the four floors of whores

so i nervously removed my headphones - he spoke with a very slurred californian accent and repeated the question he had just asked

- 'are you listening to sergeant pepper?'

- er no

- 'well put it on now'

then he staggered off