Thanks to an outpouring of rain courtesy of China or Outer Mongolia, the cold season has finally reached Bangkok in mid-March. This morning, ground temperature was at its lowest this year, 18°C.
The Bangkok Post hasn’t noticed. It comes out today with one of those horrid advertising wraparounds which says ‘Salute Summer!’ And elsewhere in its pages: ‘Now that summer is with us…’ with a display of flimsy bikinis.
As I sit at this desk wrapped in jumper and blouson and the wind through the window freezes my jeans-clad thighs, drizzle raps the awning nonstop and the cocks won’t stop crowing either. Are they celebrating or protesting?
Only three days ago I wore t-shirt and phakhama with sweat oozing all over as I watered the lane in front of my house. To those natives who complained of the heat as they walked by I’d say: Yang mai kheui chin na rue khrap (Aren’t you used to it yet?).
Perhaps I should get a blanket. I’ll need it to keep static watching the latest barbecue in town, I mean the televised parliamentary debate in which opposition cooks grill government crooks, with an eye on the coming election and the hope of vice versa.
The debate so far has been noticeably less unruly – and more boring – than last year’s, although it might turn goofy tomorrow when the handling of last May’s events is scheduled to be aired and a couple of bigmouths finally put their (r)oar in and play to the gallery.
It’s a fairly dreary show: most speakers speak for far too long, up to one hour each when ten minutes should suffice, and furthermore few know how to speak clearly, simply and fluently.
Documentary evidence of misdeeds be damned, nothing will come out of it all anyway, as everyone knows – not even for that IQ-challenged, ungainly, nasal woman who, hosting her pants and smirking, dismissed all seemingly well-grounded accusations as so many fairy tales before deciphering charts vaunting her minor accomplishments one item at a time and fumbling with papers on her desk: she gets my vote for sheer incompetence and shamelessness.
But then, I didn’t watch round the clock and missed the squirming of a couple more infamous characters. On the other hand, masters of the word such as Abhisit, Suthep and Korn were at their level best: whether or not they lied through their teeth, they spoke confidently enough to carry the day, proving once again that form trumps substance in showbiz politics.
As to the current winter, I’m told it’ll be over by the end of the week.