A couple of crooks in Kompong Som got a lesson in how not to steal last month.
They broke into a house while the owner was away, found a video camera and then the
proverbial light bulb went on: "Hey, what a great idea. Let's take pictures
of ourselves while we're inside this guy's house." Lounging about, enjoying
a smoke, having a grand old time, indeed.
The boys got back to work, loaded up all the loot and then fled the scene. A clean
Wrong! Because then the lads had another bright idea: "Let's sell the video
camera because we can get heaps of money for it." They then fenced the gear
but forgot to take the film out. The end of the story was in living color for all
to see: crooks go to jail.
** CNN, which probably cajoles its reporters into doing those self-serving,
ridiculously pathetic, in-house promos touting themselves about once every ten seconds
as the world's most professional news organization ("We covered the Berlin Wall
coming down, blah, blah, blah;" "We were there when the earth trembled
in Kobe, blah, blah, blah;" "You can't cover China by just visiting, blah,
blah, blah;" aren't you sick of it?), is so professional that it can't even
pronounce correctly the name of the First Prime Minister.
So, one should have been able to feel a twinge of sympathy for Jim Clancy when on
the evening of Nov 21 he announced three times within an hour an upcoming exclusive
interview with "Prince Norodom Rana-reed". One should have, that is, except
for the fact that CNN barks at us so regularly about how great they are.
** Scotland, that rugged land with wind swept crags and heavily sweatered
dales, produces a hardy lot of men. One such lad visited the Kingdom this month.
Fresh in Asia for three months on the juice, so to speak, he landed in Phnom Penh
and kept up the intake. He met a pricey lass to his liking and trundled her off to
the Tokyo Hotel for a bit of Highland necking. A rugged nip on her passionless throat
was a tad too much to bear, so she fled in a huff. Sooner, not later, came a rap
on Robert's door where, to his liquified chagrin, stood three guys with AKs. Of a
sudden, Brave Heart turns goose-pimply chicken, slams the door and bolts out the
window, his drawers barely buttoned, shinnying up the drain pipe, across the roofs
of three buildings, and then down, dropping too drunken down into a Lock Ness-like-cess
pool. The stink stuck still when he called for more swill at the bar, as he finished
his tale, then caught a flight to Bangkok for his next round of Asian ale.