First Pervert of Summer

The daily trudge to the slave pits of Kowloon Tong was slightly enlivened this morning when a pretty young lassie scampered onto the train at Admiralty clad in, well something very small. My initial thought was that she was either coming home from a club or had a first period gym lesson and had already changed. A pleasant sight, indeed, even if she was only slightly older than my daughter. (Well, OK, about 10 years older, which would make her about 16.)

The day was subsequently en-deadend[1] when a dribbling pervert[2] also in the carriage walked over next to her and STARED. I'm not just talking about an appreciative glance, or even an up and down checking out. This was a full goggle leering stare. An "I'm remembering every detail for my next break-time" stare.

Then, not content with that, he whipped out his mobile phone and did the world's most obvious "I'm pretending to find a number in the phone book, but I'm really taking a picture of your bum"[3] routine. He was holding it at arm's length pointed directly at her.

I did glare at him, and he saw it and returned the blank expression which means "you're not really going to do anything, even if I am guilty as sin". I suppose I should have called him a 'ham saap jaai" (perverted little boy), but I didn't fancy a fight before going to work.

She got off after two stops to meet someone on the platform who had to be restrained from going back into the train to administer a well-deserved beating and the little creep got off at the next stop leering at whatever pictures he'd taken on his phone.

It was only after he got off, that I remembered that my phone takes pictures too, and that I should have immortalised the little creep on youtube.com. D'oh!

[1] probably not the right word; hordes of zombies didn't suddenly rise up from the track bed, for example.

[2] The sort of spotty oik whose career in the mail-room of a small company finances his hobbies of collecting obscure Japanese porn, listening to insipid Canto-pop, and changing his phone every week.

[3] I mean, if you were to see Steven Spielberg with a full camera and lights crew all looking at Harrison Ford in a hat with a whip, there'd be an infinitesimal chance that they were just pretending or practising or something, but to think that this guy might *not* be making a movie would be clearly laughable.