Heard this song at Wala walas after so long. had a extremely feel about it so i decided to do a picture. wahahh. though not very well done. * bleah* when i 1st heard it, it was in my friend's car.we went for a spin on a weird weekday night. can't remember which day but it came on his CD player when we were on sheares bridge hitting towards the road where you have one of the best night view of singapore skyline. i tell you. it feel so shiok when the windows were wind down and the music came on.

but it was a sad song. the lyrics is on the right.

and bro, if you are reading this. and you were still brooding over the matter. let me accompany you for another spin.

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Late article of MR BROWN.

Get off your butt – your nation needs you

I would like to apologise for an earlier column in which I said people living in Bukit Panjang and the western parts of Singapore were living in ulu (backward) estates.

In Tuesday night's power failure, which affected 300,000 households for up to two hours (up from 80,000 for slightly over an hour in April), my Lorong Ah Soo estate was one of the last to have power restored, at slightly after midnight.

Don't like that, lah. Just because I said Bukit Panjang was ulu, this time when most of us got hit, you guys turned on the turbine for my estate last, right?

As usual, I was on the road this time, too. Blackouts like to happen when they know I am going to be driving. Just as rain likes to wait for me to wash my car before coming down in buckets.

My wife called to inform me of the power outage and, as the captain of our home's volunteer Civil Emergency Force (current membership is five: Papa, Mama, Faithie, Isaac and Auntie Cecilia), I instructed her to begin "Operation Look-for-a-Torch".

We knew the drill, having learned from the previous "Blackout of the Non-ulu West". My wife knew where to find most of the torches I kept in the house and also knew to activate my battery-operated fish pump.

Even the fish were trained to breathe less air during a power failure, and to turn off all electrical appliances in the tank.

Before I got home, I made a small detour to Mustafa, bless their open-all-night souls, to buy extra lamps and batteries. Together with half of Singapore, it seems.

And on the way up the stairs of Mount Lorong Ah Soo, the Teasing of the West began.

"Haha, Lorong Hsu so ulu one!" came an SMS from friend Chandra. It must have been dark, which explains the misspelling of the name of my estate.

I'd just like to add that Chandra has Bollywood-star good looks and lives in a very hip part of town — Bukit Batok (don't ask me where that is, I am not that hip).

In addition to all the SMSes flying around, people started phoning the police, jamming the lines.

What for? Did you get mugged? No. Did someone try to steal your big-screen TV? No.

Oh! You just wanted to tell the authorities! Why? Scared the police didn't know, ah?

Constable Tan: "Eh, Sgt Ahmad. Look outside, everything black-black one. And our police post also no power, leh. You think got island-wide blackout or not?"

Sergeant Ahmad: "No, lah, Constable Tan. Don't so fast jump to conclusion. Wait for the public to call first, then we will know if really got power failure."

Early radio reports stated that the cause of the power plant's failure was a disruption of the natural gas supply from Indonesia.

I know what a lot of you were thinking when you heard that.

"Wah, must be those Indonesians, lah. How come their gas so unreliable one? Next time we don't buy from them, then they know. Report them to Case or something."

It certainly sounded like the disruption was from the Indonesian end, based on the reports heard that night.

Now we are told that the Indonesian gas supply was disrupted because of the tripping of a valve on Jurong Island.

"Wayyyydaminute … Jurong Island … sounds familiar. And doesn't sound like one of the 17,000 islands that make up the Indonesian Archipelago, leh."

That's right, Sherlock, the disruption happened at OUR end, with OUR valve.

I reckon someone must be held accountable for this, a very senior valve at the very least. The valve that was supervising the tripped valve, maybe.

Of course, we know that the valve that tripped did so for safety reasons, and the main problem was that the backup systems at the three affected plants failed to switch over quickly enough to the backup diesel mode.

I say we cut the pay of these guilty power turbines for not switching over fast enough. Maybe also deduct some leave.

I was surprised to learn that we rely so heavily on natural gas, and overseas gas at that (foreign talent?) for our power needs.

In the light of this disaster, we should think seriously about creating our own natural gas supply instead of relying on the gas fields of others. And there is no better source of natural gas than our own people. We may have very few natural resources, but we do have our people.

That's right, gentle reader. It is time that we come together as a nation: Save gas, fart in a jar.

It's not that far-fetched, if you think about it. Look, we already drink Newater, which is recycled from waste water. So why not begin a programme to recycle our own gas?

We could use modern technology to convert the collective gas of a nation into usable energy. The first stage of filtration would probably involve removing the smell.

Still not convinced? Did you know that human fart contains methane? Yes, it is actually flammable.

Please do not attempt to prove this in the unscientific confines of your home. The waving of a naked flame in the region of one's butt to see if a fart will really ignite should only be done by trained scientists and qualified stunt-people.

I reckon if you could compress the collected flatulence, it would become liquid and thus storable in LPG tanks. Then the gas could be ignited to fire our power plants!

And we could call this new form of natural gas, Newgas! We could even make the Newgas factory a tourist attraction, to show the world that Singapore's success is fuelled by its people's organic resources.

Get your jars ready, citizen, your country needs you.


mr brown is the accidental author of a popular website that has been documenting the dysfunctional side of Singapore life since 1997. He is glad there wasn't a need to start force-feeding his kid the thawing breast milk in the fridge.