SATIRE | A few nights ago, the other (better but bitter) half walked off in a huff. “I am off for the third wives’ club meeting,” she rattled as she drove away. I was feeling lonely but not exactly horny or randy when the call came through from one of our “cawangan” (branch) leaders.

“I have sorted her out. She’s ready and up to it,” he said in coded language. Since I don’t drive anymore (following a stroke) I called my driver, Adnan (of Acehnese origin but since changed his name by deed poll adding a prefix) but I still call him “Nan”).

“I want to go for a drive. Head to the stadium and park there. You can then go for teh tarik and nasi lemak nearby.” Being a weekday, the car park was deserted, except for a couple of cars parked nearby. From the dainty glow coming from the faraway street lights, I caught glimpses of movement in the cars. Let them be, I told myself, as I had similar business to attend to.

She appeared, and I opened the door of the Toyota Harrier; there she was. Unlike the kampung-type with baju kurung and scarf whose beauty you can’t admire, she was different - a stunner! She was a sweet young thing wearing a see-through short-sleeved top and an equally short skirt to match. This was more than what I expected. The blouse was covering so little and exposing so much - always a bonus for lecherous men ...

I could not hide my weakness for nubile young ladies. I invited her to sit by my side, held her hands and said: “You are a smart girl, sayang. You have a bright future.” She didn’t say anything. The compliments worked.

I put my arms around her and whispered sweet nothings into her ears. Unlike others, she did not push my hand away when it went across her chest. As the night wore on, the hands went on a free-fall and yet, there were no objections. Her head was on my lap…

(I cannot say more because such details would have to be heard in camera should the case go to court.)

She went home happy and so did I. The next morning, I was awoken by a police sergeant - one of the few friends I have left in the local station.

“A report has been made by a 16-year-old alleging that you did something wrong to her. You have to sort it with the bosses before it makes headlines in the newspapers,” he said. Statutory rape? Oh! My God!

I was stunned into numbness. Not at this stage, when I am seated on the wrong side of the bench. When I was on the other side, one phone call to the boss of the bosses would have sorted out the matter.

These days, the guys who were in the opposition give us little room to have fun. Even the karaoke joints have not been spared, as in the case of a former youth leader. All he could say was: “I was having Nescafe tarik at 2am!”

They are watching us like hawks. Also, the turbaned holier-than-thou religious zealots and the moral police have their eyes on us. Any favours done by the authorities would put them in hot water if the matter becomes public.

I'm the victim

My immediate reaction was to call our party’s chief lawyer - that hotshot counsel who sorted out the cerut (cigar) case involving my friend, Jay Jay. But then, I said to myself: “He is already busy defending the chief of the bosses. He also got to prepare for the charges he is facing. Let me not put an additional burden on him.”

So, I got Adnan to drive me to the girl’s house (the friendly sergeant retrieved the address from the police report) where I met her parents. They were nice to me and we had a long talk.

I promised to get her to appear in a few gigs organised by the party but told her she can’t expect big bucks as the party funds had been frozen. (The chief of bosses stupidly returned the donation running into millions, instead of spreading the wealth up north).

I told the parents: “Here’s RM4,000 as an advance and much more when the venue and details are confirmed. By the way, as a gesture of goodwill, can you withdraw the report?”

The father, an educated man I presume, said: “A crime is a crime and it cannot be undone. The police will charge my daughter for making a false report.”

As the chief of bosses used to say “Cash is King” and money is a great mover. The offer increased. I called the sergeant to assist in the report withdrawal process and also asked him to talk to his chief, which was duly done.

But the news leaked and suddenly, I found myself embroiled in yet another controversy. Although I was not identified, I had to do damage control. The federal cops called me up and quizzed me for seven hours. I told them I was chatting with the girl about her future and her career as an artiste. Nothing sinister happened.

But the public decided to speculate and I was advised to own up. Let me reiterate:

I did not have sex with that woman (à la President Clinton. Check her blue skirt for stains);

I was asked to say she’s a nice gal (à la Xavier Justo under duress extolling the virtues of a kleptocrat);

I did not give her a bribe but bought her a Bentley; (à la Deepak Jaikishan); and

I did everything above board (à la ex-Tabung Haji chairman Abdul Azeez Abdul Rahim on the purchase of TRX land).

Six months ago, I would not have to attend to all these problems. I am a victim of circumstances. This is revenge – political persecution against me for revolting against the palace.

To the girl, my offer stands. When they open the new wing at the Bamboo River Resort for my party leaders and me, be assured that you will be top of the list. We need entertainers for our religious and cultural celebrations which will be restricted within four giant walls with barbed wire all around the perimeter.

R NADESWARAN says serious messages can be subtly sent through satire. Comments: citizen.nades@gmail.com

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