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So an afternoon in Singapore? Get to your tailor for a fitting then onto Raffles' Long Bar for a Singapore Sling. I am such a target Market.
Some of my dearest, and therefore most disloyal, friends will recall how on a boozy weekend in Budapest 7 years ago, we piled off to the great baths to be sweated to death.
We decided to follow up with a Thai massage. The tale is always retold to describe the horror on the rapidly inclining face of the tiny Thai lady appointed to bully my hulking frame into shape using only her body weight, as I loomed over her.
This came to mind today as I was measured for a suit by the love-child of a Singaporean and a leprechaun. As he measured, he started out admiring my stature. Some measurements in he devolved to laughter. Finally, he called in his colleagues to watch and check my measurements, open mouthed.
Honestly, I'm not that big/tall/large/chubby.
Anyway, a pick-me-up was justified, if not actually deserved. Thence to Raffles to try a Singapore Sling. Invented in 1915 by Mr Ngiam Tong Boon, I can tell the uninitiated that this is the single most over-rated tart's drink money can buy.
To my much-loved sister, Alex: you'd love it.
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