I finally found my VCD copy of Money No Enough, the top-grossing Singaporean film of all time. I was also persuaded to get a copy of Talking Cock, which I'm really hoping isn't a porno film. Another CD I'm hoping to find is a regular audio one; since being here I've twice heard oldies from the '70s backed by a pumping disco beat and with sped-up vocals, Alvin & The Chipmunks-style. I was surprised to hear John Denver's "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" done up in this manner, and downright shocked at a similar treatment of Supertramp's "Logical Song".

The first part of our Friday afternoon was spent at Raffles Hotel, first at their decadent buffet lunch, and then at The Long Bar, birthplace of the Singapore Sling. We'll have to see if the cocktail glass I swiped survives the baggage handlers on the way home.

After that it was back to the theatre for some on-camera interviews with Andrew Chew, a local documentary filmmaker. Watching each other have questions put to them about comedy was a neat way of gaining insight into the passion we share about our craft. Perhaps it inspired us to do our best show yet that night; perhaps it was also the wonderful audience we had, with my old high school chum Ray Deonandan sitting in the front row. Either way, it sure is going to hard going back to Toronto, where I'll be just another number auditioning for a Tim Horton's spot :-(

I stopped at one of the stalls to get myself a couple of henna tattoos, mostly to impress the young ladies that had come out shopping with us. If you've never heard of henna, well... It's basically liquefied cow patties that get squeezed out of a tube onto your arm, or wherever else you want it. The tattoos only last about two weeks at best, but that didn't stop Doug Morency and I from engaging in a little one-upsmanship: I started with an armband that would never be seen beneath my shirt, he raised me with a forearm scorpion, then I trumped him a dragon in the same place.

You're supposed to let the dung dry on your arm for at least half an hour, then scrape off the excess. That's where the trouble started. By the time we got back to the hotel I had somehow smeared cow shit all over my pants and shirt. Luckily I have both spares and laundry facilities within the building. And the morning after, my new dragon doesn't look so bad.

One other thing I picked up was a CD of Indonesian jazz, which I'm listening to right now!

Once I got over my hangover this morning, three of us set out for our first-ever Singapore subway ride and some bargain-hunting in the shops of Malay Village. But first we had some indigenous breakfast in a local food court. My appetizer was two pieces of grilled bread with peanut butter and cheese. Kooky.

First, though, there was the matter of some requisite gadget shopping at Sim Lim square. Bargain hunting for such items in this city-state seems to be a waste of time, but Sim Lim manages to distinguish itself a bit with some straight-from-Japan product. Just down the street I met up with the rest of the gang to tour Little India, and with shoes and socks respectfully parked outside, paid my first-ever visit to a Hindu Temple.

Only half of my comedy colleagues stuck it out for a visit to the Night Safari, but it was well-worth it. Imagine yourself on the set of Jurassic Park, with CGI dinosaurs replaced by living, breathing nocturnal wildlife, and you can only begin to understand what an incredible experience this is. At different points of the 40-hectare park I found myself eye to eye with a trio of giant hanging bats, audience to a gaggle of screaming baby otters (fun by day, cranky at night?), witness to the terrifying howls of laughing hyenas and privy to some Himalayan tigers actually meowing for food -- the sound is a lot deeper, but still instantly recognizable to a cat owner like myself.

After a scant few hours of sleep the presence of myself and Jenny Parsons was requested for an interview on Mandarin TV. It's more than a little nerve-wracking to be on live television in a two-shot next to someone who's talking at length about you in a language you don't understand. Thankfully, the actual questions were addressed to us in our native tongue.

Tonight is our opening night; stay tuned for a full report tomorrow!

I'm on that flight right now, writing this in a desperate attempt to stay awake after a full day in the Pearl of the Orient. We touched down about an hour early and were in downtown HK by 8am, at which point we split into two groups -- the neophytes went off to see the city from its famous peak, and the veterans boarded a rickety local bus bound for the junks of Aberdeen.

The ride there was almost the best part of our south side island jaunt. Our fearless driver swung his vehicle around blind corners with enough reckless abandon to challenge any theme park attraction for sheer white-knuckle thrills. Once we got to our destination, a half-hour tour of the harbour there gave us more than our money's worth. You'll have to wait for photos of that.

After a requisite dim sum brunch at the Star Ferry harbour I dragged the gang over to Kowloon, so's I could get myself fitted for a custom-tailored suit. A mere two hours after my initial measurement-taking, I tried on an actual pair of pants, a vest, and a one-sleeved jacket. All without cuffs, collars or lining, of course, but a mightily impressive feat nonetheless. Apparently no less than 65 people will be working on this one-of-a-kind ensemble over the next week -- I'm picking it up this Sunday, and hope to wear it at Second Cine on December 3rd!

The next time you'll hear from me will hopefully be sometime Monday evening -- Tuesday morning, Singapore time -- and that's assuming the high-speed 'Net connection in my hotel plays well with my iBook.

In the meantime, two things to keep you busy:

1. If it isn't already sold out, you should definitely catch Heino's Happy Hour at The Tim Sims Playhouse tonight. Mainstage alum Marc Hickox hosts, with an eerily accurate impersonation of the famous (in Germany, anyway) celebrity. Plus, you get free Jagermeister!
2. Pop-punkers Green Day have started an online petition against the coming war on Iraq. Hey, you never know...

I can't bitch and moan too much, of course. En route to Singapore and back, the Second City crew has a ten-hour stopover in Hong Kong... Anybody need a cell phone?

If you've got an extra twenty-five bucks and nothing to do Sunday night, you can see yours truly and the other Singapore-bound Second Citizens use this year's Cream of Comedy as a dress rehearsal for our overseas show. More info can be found on the Tim Sims site, which you'll have to navigate yourself, since the bonehead who designed it did it entirely in Flash...

And finally, it's good to see that I'm not the only North American with a hate-on for United States. The latest parody of Apple Computer's "switch" campaign is causing a lot of fuss with geeks south of the border -- as for myself, I had no problem with it :->

And now it seems that a right-wing American rag is advocating the bombing of Canada, because we don't have our heads as far up Uncle Sam's ass as Britain does.

"Satire" or not, am I the only person enraged by this?!

We Mac users have it especially tough when it comes to CD protection, especially with our iPods just a FireWire connection away. In signing up for a free trial of PressPlay, I found out the the legitimate music download service was for PCs only.

... And record companies wonder why we pirate music!

"Well, in a Second City show I can play anywhere from 18 to 75..."
"Okay, but what's your age?"
"You know, that's kind of an odd question to put to an actor..."
"It's the policy of our magazine."
"Oh, so you won't print it..."
"Yes, we'll print it. What's your age?"

After playing the "warmer/colder" game for a couple minutes, we finally moved on. But today I'm wondering, would Cher get this kind of treatment?

Here's a little story that will hopefully make you think twice before cracking open your next Labatt product. My buddy Al Howell won an air hockey table in a contest, and asked me to supervise the delivery while he was out of town. The two slackers that showed up with it did nothing but bitch and moan all the way up to his door, at which point I realized that I was, how shall we say... Without key?

What happened next was that these two less than stellar examples of humanity refused to take the table back downstairs, and abandoned me with a fifty-pound air hockey table in the middle of a hallway. Their reasoning: "We're just doing this as a favour... We're not really delivery men". You got that right, assholes!

• Singapore Sling
• Rubber hose
• Gingivitis
• Thong
• Dictionary

Here's what I came up:

MAN: Honey, have you seen my Singapore Sling?
WOMAN: It's in the rubber hose, next to the gingivitis, thong and dictionary...
MAN: So why do you think they cancelled our show in Bangkok?