I stayed at a gam saan jong, owned by Sze Yup people for a month waiting for a favorable decision from the U.S. The firm helped me with the paperwork and booking passage.

I’ll do the washing-up if you put it all away.

The English band Crass sounded like a bag of rocks: scrabbly drum rolls, clanky guitars, no bass end, the words a jabbery Cockney caterwaul through endless stanzas of common meter.

Ironically, today's generation has become the little materialists and fame whores (New York Magazine's term) their boomer parents so reviled.