Here I am watching England leading Croatia at halftime. Normally, this would be an enjoyable experience (solely because Kieron Dyer happens to be on the bench) but noooooooo, I have two yet to be written radio scripts hanging over my head like the blade of a guillotine.

The worst thing is, these scripts are for that same client who complains that I use profound English, which makes me even less inclined to write anything even remotely resembling copy. As was suggested in the brainstorm session earlier, maybe getting an ah soh to shriek “lai2 lai2 lai2, wa4 nang2 eh3 roadshow si3 dis lei2 bai3 gui2 diam4 gui2 diam4” would be appropriate since, given the sort of client we have been stricken with, this is the dialect that they are perhaps most likely to be able to fully appreciate. That was Hokkien in case you didn’t know, the language of the proletariat, so to speak. I, being a humble member of the working class, am particularly adept at using this versatile dialect. This is especially so when it comes to ordering fishball noodles or bak kut teh or cursing the living hell out of someone else’s mother. Not that I am proud of the last point.