THE SALESMAN SANS LESSEE
[With apologies to Keats]
Oh what can ail thy arms at night
When you’ve spent all day loitering?
The icing’s melted on the cake.
There’s a fine thing!
Oh what can ail thy arms at night
Now that another month has gone?
Your Parker fountain pen is full
And no report is done.
I see you really want to know
With wrinkled brow, what there was new
As Sinclair got more adipose
In Hong Kong’s zoo.
I met a client in Taipei,
Of horse manure the braggart filled;
His thirst was long, his purse was tight,
Cor, I was wild!
I made a beeline for Bangkok
And Borneo – the Tropic Zone,
They treated me as one bereft
And gave me moan.
I set forth then by SIA
And travelled all day long,
Hoping to find better things
Back in Hong Kong.
But all I got were aching feet
and sinal pains (and earache too –
For sure a language strange they speak
In Hong Kong’s zoo).
So then I took me to a spot
Where people meet, in Singapore,
Hoping they could me advise
What I worked for.
And found myself in Bugis Street
Midst drag-dressed beauties – woe betide! –
Who would not lease a single box
Or an open side.
I saw pale Lines and agents too,
Pale clients – death pale were they all.
They cried: The Salesman sans Lessee
Has come to call.
I saw their vast ships in the port
With empty sails all gaped wide,
Then I awoke and found me here
On London side.
And that is why I write so rare
And spend my time a-loitering.
Though the icing’s melted on the cake.
There’s a fine thing.
On a flight from Singapore to London, March 1981
I owed my daughter Caroline a letter and decided to fill in some time on a flight back to London from Hong Kong via Singapore with this apology in verse, written as if a progress report to my Company. Bugis Street was notorious in those days for being an area occupied prominently by trans-sexuals and transvestites. Most of them seemed to be trying to raise the money to go abroad for a sex-change operation. The area still exists, but - the last time I saw it - those particular denizens seemed to have disappeared.