Suddenly and inexplicably he came out with: “Do you know any gay people in Singapore?” It was at this point that I realised we were still shaking hands.
We stepped gingerly off the boat with sunburnt faces, raw lips and bruised hips. It was like stepping into another world. I was reminded of a cartoon I once watched where, for some reason, Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble had been teleported into the Jetsons’ future word. “Ugg!” I said, as I pawed inspidly at