Where da weekend go?

It’s a pain hav­ing a bad flu and hav­ing to move house.

You can call me Pro­fes­sor of Grumpol­ogy now, because I am still the big time grump. So grumpy I’ve griped at things I’d nor­mally let slide — such as Spizza’s lack­adaisi­cal chefs (the ones at Seran­goon Gar­dens — I don’t know about the other branches), to whom I have this to say:

Parma ham is to be shaved thinly, not cut into meaty chunks that give it the look and tex­ture of beef jerky.

Here, come, I show you:

Spizza’s Sparma Ham — thick and chewy

Nor­mal Parma Ham — del­i­cate and tasty

Thinly sliced, Parma ham’s great with rocket or rock­melon. But if you do it the Spizza Seran­goon Gar­den way, (haha Seran­goon Gar­den Way), it becomes what my grandma calls in Hokkien, ‘Kiam Tok Tok’, or ‘Salty like fuck’.

Of course, being pre-occupied with mov­ing meant I only had a lit­tle time to gripe about such things, as well as news of the dev­as­tat­ing Java earth­quake, and news on Sat­ur­day (bet­ter late than never), that poverty in Sin­ga­pore has been around since before the elections.

Being busy also meant I didn’t have time to con­grat­u­late my cousin, who worked for the suc­cess­ful Las Vegas Sands bid. I’m just won­der­ing if any of my nosso good uncles might call him up like the time they did when they found out he worked for an inter­na­tional Ing­tee­graded Resock — and ask if he has any lobangs for da brud­ders to work in secu­rity.

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