Mr. Paul hates the gangsters.
Since I learned the word ‘red devil’ in whatever language they speak in, I’m hearing it more and more.
Do they not like me?
Isn’t ignorance bliss.
The incentive for not learning a language is to never be offended.
It’s a code I abide by.
I saw Mr. Lee the other day at Geoffrey's Cafe.
He has 13 children and was once a sea captain, shipping raw material from Sabah to Kuching, up to 1000 tonne, says his sidekick Andy.
I’d believe it.
He was making his way upstairs to the Baccarat table.
Nothing passes me.
I enquire. I want to know. I need to know. I also saw a few whores walking down the steep steps and a few Chinese who should be in bed dying.
Andy and Mr. Lee are giving me a wide birth.
Do they know I’m writing about them?
Goodness me, what would ever give them that idea?