Pay homage to the potato

Previously, on the OC… hee. Previously, I blogged about my colleagues’ hatred for the ubiquitous font—Rotis. It’s funny but if you switch the ‘s’ with the ‘t’, and put the 't' before the 'i' in Rotis, it transforms into a much sought-after Swiss specialty—the Rosti, available at Marche at the mere price of empat ringgit setengah! You have to love the Rosti. Come on people of the world, let’s burst into song.

O Kentang, how I love you so
When you’re boiled and grated
And then pan-fried to perfection,
Serve it up with a dollop, a dollop, a dollop of sour cream.

O Kentang, you may possibly be
The most tortured tuber crop
We bake you, roast you, brew you
And even dress you in blobs, in blobs, in blobs of mayo.

And after wiki-ing, (I have wiki breaks in replacement of smoke breaks.) I found out that there’s such a thing as Spud Guns. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spud_guns

Apropos to the potato as a, possibly, weapon of a bit of destruction (WBD)—why didn’t the British soldiers use tapioca as artillery to defend the fort in Singapore as foreign invaders stormed in? Why didn’t the Britons drop tapioca bombs instead of atomic ones, and pioneer the term, ‘kena lenyek keledek’?

Don't ever edit a war memoir, without first eradicating salivating thoughts of the Rosti. And erm, you can stop singing.