I know I am. Not afraid of the actual person per se; I find dentists as a rule mild-mannered and not very muscular. But there is something about going into that waiting room and being totally at someone else’s mercy, lying down in that chair showing myself at my most vulnerable and absolute worst, that makes me feel like going to the dentist is like death. Also I hate pain.

But yesterday was the day I had to do it after promising myself that if I ever stopped smoking I would go to the dentist. As I successfully and with surprisingly little fanfare put away those impediments to happiness four and a half months ago, I took it as an omen that when I texted a friend to go out for a drink and he said he couldn’t as he was having a wisdom tooth pulled at that moment, I should use his dentist. I booked the next day and it felt very good to have done something from which I couldn’t turn back.

Well! Things have changed in the dentistry world since I last descended into that hell. For one thing the x-ray thing is no longer having squares of cardboard inserted into your gob and the dentist and staff running from the room. Now you get to stand on a big contraption which travels around your head shooting the inside of it panorama style. I liked it! (But if x-rays are so safe, why do the staff still run from the room?)

So that was fun, but the clincher for me was the thing they had to keep your mouth open, an invention so obvious it is inconceivable anyone would ever have had to do that themselves in the history of the world. It’s a big, soft rubber cushion with a hole in it, basically. You lie down, the nurse pops it in, then you “relax”. And none of that cotton swab crap they used to put in the catch the drool either.

It was, in fact, extremely fast and not more painful than trying to walk through Causeway Bay on a Saturday. Now I’ve signed up to go to the dentist every six months! I came out of that office floating on a cloud of zen-like indifference. Recommended!

Lantau Island is a magnet for mediocre to incompetent civil servants, notably members of the police force. I have written about them many times; their, shall we say interesting take on what their job description in particular, and yesterday morning (May 1st) I got yet another depressing (yet hilarious) story to add to the long list of Lantau Police stories which is now long enough for a short book.

Coming back from dog walking, still not 100% sober from Tap Tap the night before, I saw a police van and a number of officers milling around a strangely familiar car: That of lively couple A and B whom I’d been drinking with. And there was B in the police van, still in excellent spirits as it were, handcuffed and full of beans, while his wife A wasn’t as thrilled. She had received a call at 9.30 about their car being badly parked (true) and causing an obstruction (not true until another police van and -car showed up). Here is what transpired in B’s own words:

Basically the police officer instructed me not to touch my car (when i opened the bonnet to put some water in the coolant container); accused me of trying to “take away” a phone (when i reached into the car to call my wife and ask her to come quickly to the car — she had been on the way to the car when some of the police called her to come to the village shop instead. at that point we agreed that i should continue to the car and “see what the problem was”); and to stop touching a rucksack in the boot (when i was going through its pockets looking for my id card). that’s when he walked up about a foot away from me and started shouting into my face that he was going to arrest me. so close in fact that his spittle was flying into my face. and that’s when i got irritated and invited him to do so. he then yanked my arms behind my back and cuffed me?
in particular, there was no violence or threat of violence. i was polite at all times, didn’t swear or act in an aggressive manner, and nor did i present a flight risk, at all times making it clear that i was looking for my i.d. card and waiting for my wife (the car owner) to arrive.

also, as i said to them many times, i needed the cuffs removed because they were cutting into my circulation and that this was a problem for me because i’ve had a stroke. i requested that they speed up getting me to the police station because the cuffs were put on too tightly. i was told: “it’s not your decision”. and that they were “securing the scene” (it’s a car parked on the kerb, for christ’s sake!!!)

A and I went to their house to get B’s ID card and when we came back the van was gone with the still handcuffed B in it. Now he would have to spend hours at the police station while they waited for an interpreter. The car could also not be removed – a CID detective would have to come from Tung Chung to photograph it. No more talk of obstruction, in other words.

Funny how the police doesn’t care about the obstruction of the pavements in Pui O

but I suppose an old woman in a wheelchair having to be pushed in the middle of the road with trucks thundering past doesn’t have the same importance as drivers having to slow down for a couple of seconds for a parked car. One thing though: When a madman tried to kill me last month and subsequently proceeded to smash my door to pieces with some stools because I nimbly evaded him,

the police only sent TWO officers and one detective, whereas to deal with a man trying to get into his own car, NINE officers in two vans and two cars were needed. This is clearly discriminatory.
Yep. Your tax money at work, and another great victory for the Lantau Police.

(B was released about 7 o’clock last night, so this May Day crime drama took only about 10 hours.)

Thus endeth the Christmas in Guizhou series. Now I have to go into the mainland as soon as possible to gather more material.

Ahhrghh where did the months go? I’ve been ut of the writing business for so long! Hope you haven’t given up on this blog. Let me re-launch it with a short film from the rather excellent beer dash we had on Lantau last Saturday. Thank you, thank you, Melanie Potgieter for coming up with the idea and putting in the hours. This year is the fifth year! If you want to be part of this next year: Book early. Only 300 participants allowed.

In its relentless quest to cheer up and beautify ugly sleepy backwater Pui O, the government has come up with these sorely needed banners. Phew! I wonder what we did before them? They don’t mention what will now happen to non-pedal bicycles, but I suppose they will just have to take their chances.

Years ago my friend told me these banners are $700 apiece. There are three of them in Pui O. We are saved! Right?

I mean, quarter past three weeks since I last posted a blog entry? Bloody hell. I can’t live like this. I think it all started when the Sony service centre blithely called and said I had lost two weeks’ worth of film documentary work. That was a media-related kick in the goolies. But can’t cry by a film grave forever, so I’ll kick bak off with my latest column. Then back to the tissue box.