The Merry Misogynist

boat against the current and seemed to be travelling backwards – perhaps more than seemed.
    “As I told your…as I told the comrade,” the man said, “I, am Koomki from the Department of Housing Allocation.”
    Siri’s stomach clenched. Somewhere deep down he’d been expecting this visit. He backed up two steps and sat down on the bare wood. Daeng had begun to prepare the ingredients for the day’s feu noodle soup at the rear of the shop.
    “Dr Siri,” Koomki continued, “we have an inconsistency in our files.”
    “And what would that be?” Siri asked as if he didn’t know.
    “You, Comrade.”
    “Madame Daeng,” Siri called to his wife, “did you hear that? I’m an inconsistency.”
    “That’s why I married you, sweetness.”
    The man from housing blushed.
    “I think you’ll realize soon enough that this is hardly a joking matter,” Koomki said. “Is this your place of abode or not?”
    Siri resented Koomki’s tone. “No.”
    “You’re standing here naked but for a pair of shorts and this lady is clearly your wife – ”
    “Oh, no, I’m not,” Daeng interrupted.
    “Not his wife?”
    “Not a lady.”
    The man was plainly out of his depth with this couple. He held up his clipboard to his damp bulgy eyes and read from it. “Dr Siri, you are registered as the householder of allocated government accommodation unit 22B742 at That Luang.”
    “Then that’s obviously where I live,” Siri assured him.
    “Well, it’s clear to our department that although there are a number of people living in that bungalow, you are not among them.”
    “And what’s your definition of living?” Siri asked.
    “I…er…”
    “I assume you have one?”
    “It’s…it’s the place where you sleep.”
    “Really? So insomniacs would never qualify for government housing?”
    “What?”
    “You have to admit our government’s causing us a lot of sleepless nights. In fact, I’d wager most people aren’t sleeping at all. I do have a bed on which to lay my head at my house but when I find myself wanting at two a.m., I climb on my motorcycle and come here to find a little rest.”
    “Or to the house of one of his mistresses,” Madame Daeng added.
    “Quite.” Siri nodded.
    Koomki turned to Daeng, who was smiling broadly beside the hearth. The steam from her broth curled around her face and filled the occupants of the room with a wanton desire to eat. The stomach of the man from Housing growled.
    “Comrade,” he said to Madame Daeng, “I warn you that lying to a government cadre is a very serious offence.”
    “Honestly, I barely see him,” she said with an earnest look in her eyes. “As you’ll know from your files there’s only me registered here. Of course, I do have other paramours popping in from time to time.”
    Siri smiled and scratched the tingle where his left earlobe used to be.
    Koomki seemed to realize that he was having the mickey taken out of him. As he didn’t have humour to fall back on, he resorted to regulations.
    “Comrades, according to the rules, you are not allowed to sublet government housing. Thanks to the benevolence of the republic, you are given permission to remain in your house rent free. As soon as you desert it, you forfeit the right to reside there. You certainly may not rent it out.”
    Siri nodded. “Well, then there’s no problem, is there?”
    “Why not?”
    “Because, a, as we’ve established, I do live there, and b, none of the people in my house pay rent. They’re my friends.”
    “Your friends?” The man laughed for the first time. “Then you’re a very popular man, Dr Siri.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Yesterday I counted nineteen people coming to and going from the That Luang residence. Eight of them have registered your house as their official domicile. There was also a monk who we have no record of at all. What’s a monk doing at your house, Comrade?”
    “He’s my spiritual adviser. You know, like when the prime minister’s wife sneaks off to the temple to ask about fortuitous dates for staging national events?”
    “Then I suggest he’s advising you subliminally because he would appear to be deaf and dumb. He seemed unable or unwilling to tell me to which temple he is attached. And we all know that monks are not permitted to stay in private housing. Which brings me to the question of prostitution.”
    Siri raised his bushy white eyebrows and turned to his wife. “Do we know any questions of prostitution, my dear?”
    “The