More sex please, we're Singaporeans

I was watching The Tonight Show with Jay Leno on CNBC a couple of weekends ago and the guest was Dennis Miller. He made a joke about Singapore banning sex on buses.

'WHAT?' I exclaimed.

After some checking, I found out that it was actually in Bangkok where officials were urging students to refrain from coitus while commuting.

But Bangkok somehow became Singapore as the story circulated and the uncorrected error soon became perceived fact.

And thus another unflattering myth about our 'fine' city is born. After all, it made irresistible sense. We are the country that banned chewing gum, Cosmopolitan and Sex And The City. We might as well prohibit procreation on public transportation too.

Unlike Bangkok, a city whose name speaks for itself, the Republic of Singapore is synonymous with buzzkill.

This is despite some less-than-extreme makeover attempts to sex the city-state up, such as a new movie rating system that now allows the uncut DVD version of Titanic (woohoo! Kate Winslet's breasts at last!), and the unbanning of the abovementioned Cosmo and HBO comedy starring Sarah Jessica Parker's nose.

A few years ago, the local edition of FHM was almost shut down for its risque content.

Today, even Singapore Press Holdings has jumped on the laddie mag moneywagon by publishing the Singapore edition of Maxim. (UPDATE: Singapore Maxim folded in 2008.)

However, the venerable Playboy still can't play here. You can print all the cleavage and butt cheek you want, but nipples and pubic hair are still no-fly zones.

We hosted Asia's largest gay fest, although you wouldn't know it due to the lack of local media coverage.

But the foreign press went so far as to report that Thai homosexuals are now fighting to keep the title of Asia's gay tourism capital from Singapore.

Fiona Xie running along Orchard Road in a bikini aside, Singapore's top sex news of 2004 is indisputably the plague of China prostitutes invading our island beyond the usual red-light areas.

This should finally rid Singapore of our asexual wallflower image.

And then the Durex Global Sex Survey 2004 results were released. Sigh.

Out of the 41 countries that took part in the survey, Singaporeans have the second least amount of sex, averaging about twice a week. Only the Japanese have lesser sex.

And to add insult to injury, our virgins are getting older. Although it would explain our low birth rate, the survey doesn't jibe for a couple of reasons.

First, if we're really having so little sex, then all those China hookers have come to the wrong place. They should go to France, which topped the survey (again).

Second, how can Japan possibly be at the bottom of the list? Have you seen those Japanese bondage videos?

This year, Singapore actually moved up a notch in the survey. Last year, we were dead last. So perhaps those China girls made a difference after all.

I appeal to you, my fellow Singaporeans, let's do even better in next year's survey. We already suck at sports. Don't blow this too. When you take the survey, for all our sakes - lie!

- Published in The New Paper, 4 Oct 2004

Daddy issues: On second thoughts

I blame Ah Ma. More specifically, I blame Neo Swee Lin who played Ah Ma on Phua Chu Kang Pte Ltd.

I was executive producer-scriptwriter for the show when during rehearsal one day, Swee Lin asked if I was planning to have a second child.

She insisted that I must, I must, I must have another child. It would be cruel of me not to.

Melodramatically, befitting an award-winning actress, Swee Lin recounted how lonely it was for her growing up because she was an only child. And that I should not allow the same sad fate to befall my first-born. O, how she yearned for a sibling!

I recalled feeling lonesome myself as an only child till I was six when my first sister was born. So in some small way, I understood how Swee Lin must have felt.

So when not long after, my wife announced out of the blue that she wished to get pregnant again while she still could – even though she and I had previously resolved to stop at one – Ah Ma’s words immediately came to mind and I said, “Uh … OK.”

And thus another life-changing decision was casually made based on advice from an entertainer, albeit an award-winning one.

I’m not sure if “To keep the first one company” is a good enough reason to have a second child, but that stork has flown, dear.

To be fair, even before Swee Lin mentioned it, my wife and I were concerned that my toddler son Graeme didn’t have anyone else to play with at home besides us. Not concerned for him, mind you, but for us. Because the bloody kid was wearing us out.



But we had sworn to ourselves not to have another child. Just as we had earlier sworn not to have any at all. Swearing just doesn’t mean as much as it used to.

If one child was tiring, two children would be two times worse, or so we thought. In reality, it’s four times worse.

It’s not just an additional child demanding our attention – it’s each child requiring more attention individually than they would otherwise if he or she were an only child.

And when the two are together, it’s a whole other monster. An evil unreasoning unstoppable monster called Sibling Rivalry. So you see, it’s exponentially more exhausting.

I blame Ah Ma.

Fortunately, Caitlin, the second child, occasionally fulfills her raison d’être when she and her brother manage to keep each other occupied peacefully and thus out of our hair for those few precious uneventful moments.

Another consolation is that my second-born is a girl. So I’m grateful for the variety if nothing else. Everyone had told us that girls were less a handful than boys. We were viciously misled.

The second child also helps to amortise the cost of the first, no small consideration. Though not a big environmentalist, I’m a staunch believer in recycling Graeme’s clothes, toys, footwear and even diapers (and I do mean the cloth ones, so relax) for re-use by his sister, who doesn’t seem to mind so far.

So it’s not so painful to buy new outfits for the boy since they would eventually be worn by both children. We get our money’s worth. Good thing then that we had the boy before the girl and not the other way round because the girl can wear all the boy’s clothes, but the boy would attract the wrong attention in a Power Puff Girls party dress.

One totally unexpected consequence of my second child was the birth of a new local sitcom about a feisty heartlander lass who works in a phone shop created by yours truly. The name of the show? Ah Girl, which is still what I call Caitlin, now three years old.

And that’s the answer to the question of how a cast member from one local sitcom inspired the creation of another in the most convoluted way possible. Not that you asked.

I blame Ah Ma.

And in case you’re wondering, definitely absolutely positively no number three.

For now.

- Published in Young Parents, January 2003

NDP 2001: I'm getting too old for this

There I was, smack in the middle of the criminally domeless National Stadium, exposed skin grilled crimson under the pitiless Saturday afternoon sun. Sweat was stinging my eyes, but I couldn't - no, I dared not - move.

I was part of the navy's marching contingent for the National Day Parade rehearsals, forming the figure 2 in NDP 2001.



I wanted to faint. I had never felt so old in my life. Guess I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. And it was my 35th birthday. Such is my love for my country.

As a kid watching the NDP on TV all those years ago, I wondered how those soldiers could stand so still in the parade for so long. I would've been contented if I was kept wondering.

Perversely enough, when I was called up in March for the NDP, I was actually thrilled by the prospect of - of all things - donning the No 1 ceremonial uniform. I had worn the No 4 camouflage in the army and No 3 shirt-and-slacks in the navy, but never the No 1.

I was crushed to learn later that only the Guard of Honour gets to wear the No 1. By all accounts, I'm no Guard, or anything else, of Honour. Back to the ol' No 3 for me.

You fantasise about being part of the nation's grandest annual event. But you always thought that when it happened, you would be representing your school or participating during your NS - you know, like when you're young?

Not when you're a paunchy, twice-married over-30 NSman, worrying about your job and children's education and paying monthly instalments on your HDB apartment and Nissan Sunny.

But somehow, being in the NDP made me feel young and old at the same time.

Reunited with long-lost NS acquaintances, I started behaving like when I was in national service, that is, young and stupid, whistling at adolescent pom-pom girls from the pre-parade show until I suddenly realised I am old enough to be their father.

And I realised something else: Like it or not, I've been part of the navy longer than I've been part of anything else in my life, be it school, company or marriage.

I can quit my job, divorce my wife, abandon my children, kill my mother, get a Toyota, but wherever I go, as long as I'm medically fit, the SAF will track me down and make sure I attend my ICT, IPPT, NDP and whatever initials they can think of - at least until I'm 40 (five more years to ROD!)

And I'm a better Singaporean for it.

The most shocking moment for me was during the first full-run rehearsal at the National Stadium, when they started playing the National Anthem.

From where I was standing in the field, I saw grown men in uniform in the gallery instinctively get on their feet and salute in my direction, proudly, resolutely.

We, the NSmen in the field, were there because, well, we had to be. But no-one was forcing the audience to salute.

I thought it ironic that possibly the truer display of patriotism and genuine love for country was in the stands rather than on the parade ground. But that wasn't the shock.

The shock was when I opened my mouth and sang the National Anthem, it actually felt foreign to me. It had been a long time since I had sung Majulah Singapura.

Who knew that in the year when I was part of the launch of a TV station, and Ah Girl - the first show I ever created and named after my 20-month-old daughter - went on air, the greatest highlight would actually be my participation in the National Day Parade?

I just hope I don't screw it up. And pray it doesn't rain.

- Published in The New Paper, 5 August 2001