A Day In The Life

Some years ago, during a "dry spell," when nothing much happened, my friend Anselm Leong, a member of the Manestonian Society Of Master Architects, and I decided to head to a mall for a bit of R&R. As you will discover, it was a really slow day that day.

Now, a lot of our malls here are quite badly designed, and I'm basing my judgement on the strict and holistic guidelines set by the clandestine Manestonian Society Of Master Architects. Almost 500 years ago, its founder, Grandmaster Mabisma Foley Panayotou Swindon, had already possessed the great foresight of setting a limit to the size of a mall. This is back in the days when malls hadn't even existed! And that is why Grandmaster M.F.P. Swindon is, erm, grandmaster.

To escape the hot afternoon, Anselm and I sought refuge in one of those giant malls, the one that seems like an oversized rat's maze. If anything, malls are like great balls of goo that trap people in their ooze, slowing time down, and definitely slowing people down. Even a world-class athlete would suddenly lose all sense of time and adopt a sluggish gait.

But not Anselm and I. We were like Speedy Gonzales on, er, speed. We had a Masterplan. Every store would be made to serve its purpose. None would escape our evil eyes. We would show no mercy.

I darted into The Body Shop, went up to one of the salesgirls, and said, "I'd like to buy your body."

Needless to say, the reaction was one of shock and awe.

Anselm went into Burger King, and fired off, "I'd like aMushroomSwisswithlargefriesandaCoke,andmyfriendwouldliketohave
aBKFishSandwichwithlargeonionrings,andpleaseaddtwoIcedMilosanda
NorwegianWildSalmonBurgerwithcheeseandbarbecuesauce,
thankyouverymuch."

The guy at the counter looked appropriately annoyed and confused (or one or the other, we couldn't really tell from his lousy face), and asked, "Excuse me, sir, could you please repeat that?"

And Anselm did as requested. To which confused guy looked even more confused.

Sensing his prey on its final breath, Anselm delivered the killer blow, "Well, isn't this a fast-food restaurant?"

I went into McDonald's later and, wearing my best innocent-puppy look, said, "Could I have a haggis, please?"

"Eh?" said Confused Guy No. 2.

"Well, isn't this a Scottish restaurant?"

All in all, I would say it was a good day.