ONYA MATE

I met Dean Johns on three occasions at Embassy functions. Although we never met socially over some piss we kind of bonded in the subject of a country in distress. He never applied the brakes when negotiating corners and it was always full throttle – the epitome of a driver who knows what he is driving at. After many years in Asia, Dean  currently lives with his Malaysian wife and daughter in Sydney, where he mentors creative writing groups. Soon to be published in Kuala Lumpur is a third book of his columns for Malaysiakini, following earlier collections 'Mad about Malaysia' and 'Even Madder about Malaysia'.

Wrestling over how he should title his third book he wrote in his latest Malaysiakini COLUMN:

But where could I go from there with this third one in the series? 'Maddest about Malaysia', though obviously the next in the established, escalating sequence, unfortunately seemed to me to come across as a bit odd.

And in any case I could hardly claim to be madder at the political state of affairs in Malaysia than some of my fellows in fury like Antares, Zorro or Ktemoc, for example, or that most outrageous crusading Malaysian of all, the incomparable Raja Petra Kamarudin

G’day Mate,

Yes I was looking forward to the now not-to-be “Maddest About Malaysia” after “Mad About Malaysia” and “Madder About Malaysia”

I am quite used to being called mad and madder than, by my students and later by seminar participants. In fact I kind of like those stigmas. It means that they were reacting because they were listening and not nodding YES with their eyes closed as happens during seminars and lessons.

However, nobody has called me a drongo or god forbid  institutionally insane…….YET?

But you are abso-bloody-lutely right about titling your latest “Missing Malaysia”….it is stark truth and thus not airy fairy! So stay where you are Dean. Better times will come. Currently we still have some kangaroos loose in the top paddock.

 And by the by matey, I love dripping taps. They are hypnotically therapeutic and  soothing, minus any crescendo,  like in Ravel’s Bolero.

  Hooroo mate. Will down some grog to launch Missing Malaysia.