The Merry Misogynist

into the room and closed the door behind him.
    It only took Siri a few seconds to take in the scene and understand the reason for his summons. Judge Haeng and Vietnamese adviser Phat were sitting at their respective desks. But to one side, seated on the sticky vinyl guest sofa, were three upright gentlemen in grey, pale blue, and brown safari suits respectively. In front of them on the slightly inclining coffee table were several used cups and glasses, hard evidence of the amount of time they’d been there waiting for him. Siri recognized one of the men, Comrade Koomki from Housing.
    Comrade Phat performed an ‘I did my best’ shrug and grinned at the papers in front of him.
    “Siri,” said Haeng in a much deeper voice than Siri had ever heard him use, “where the hell have you been?”
    “To the toilet,” Siri answered honestly. As was custom, he went along the line of sofa sitters and shook their hands. Though his own hand was damp, they had no choice but to respond.
    “For two hours?” Haeng yelled at Siri’s back.
    “No, just now. I was taken short and happened to pass the WC, so I – ”
    “I called you here for one thirty.”
    “Right. I had something more important to do.”
    “You…?” The judge looked and half smiled at the visitors. “These comrades have been here since one fifteen.”
    “They refused to leave until you got here,” said the Vietnamese with the slightest of smiles pencilled across the bottom of his face.
    “It’s good to see there’s one government department with sufficient time on its hands that it can waste it doing nothing,” Siri said and sat in front of Haeng’s desk. “Not many of us have that luxury.”
    “Siri, this is a serious matter,” growled the judge. “Comrade Koomki here is accusing you of – ”
    “I know what he’s accusing me of: charity and kindness. Goodness knows we don’t want any of that kind of behaviour in the new republic.”
    “Judge Haeng,” said the little man, “if I may.”
    “Go ahead,” said the judge.
    “Although we have reservations as to the type of person staying at Dr Siri’s house,” Koomki began, “that is not the matter at hand. We have evidential proof that you, Dr Siri Paiboun, are not resident at government housing unit 22B742.”
    “Let’s see it,” said Siri.
    Koomki stood and walked to Haeng’s desk. He carried a large grey envelope.
    “My colleagues and I performed five days of surveillance on both unit 22B742 and the commercial property on Fa Ngum Street owned by the doctor’s wife, Madame Daeng.”
    “Good grief,” said Siri, slumping back in the chair. “We have foreigners stealing great chunks of our ancient temple at Wat Poo because the government can’t spring for a couple of guards to look after it, and here we have three grade-two public officials spending a week watching a noodle shop? Surely our nation has better ways to harness your rapacious enthusiasm?”
    “Firstly, I am a grade-three official,” said Koomki. “And secondly, on the contrary, I consider the honesty and transparency of the actions of our high-ranking officials to be a priority in these troubled times.”
    “Really? Then let’s bring in an opposition party,” Siri hissed. “That’ll straighten all of us out.”
    “Siri,” Judge Haeng interrupted, “can we just see what evidence the comrade has, please?”
    “Judge, surely you can’t – ?”
    “Siri! Thank you.”
    Siri held up his hands in submission, and the small man sneered. He produced a wad of documents from the envelope and fanned them back and forth.
    “Your Honour, here – ”
    “You aren’t in court, Comrade,” Haeng said. “‘Judge’ will be sufficient.”
    “Yes, Comrade.” Koomki nodded. “Here we have five days of surveillance records. They clearly show that Dr Siri was not at unit 22B742 for that period but was unlawfully residing at his wife’s shop.”
    “For the entire time?” Haeng asked.
    “What?”
    “Was Dr Siri at his wife’s establishment for the entire period of the surveillance?”
    “Yes, well, no. There were some gaps.”
    “How many?”
    “Three. Either we saw him leave but not arrive, or vice versa.”
    “Three out of five?” The judge raised his eyebrows. “Not a very impressive statistic.”
    Siri looked up in surprise.
    “He probably slipped in through the back,” Koomki said with confidence.
    “I’m a judge, Comrade. I don’t deal with probabilities, only evidence.”
    Siri turned