Professions that are akin to flaunting fake boobs, according to Chinese sinseh Master Mah

Perched behind a counter in a Chinese medical hall, a pimply-faced store assistant swings his gaze to a woman seated nearby and grunts, “Next, Paulina Phuar.” He gestures to Master Mah’s desk in one corner of the store and trots over to hand the sinseh a manila folder.

The young woman goes from the waiting area to settle down at the chair across the sinseh's 

cuffed desk. Two firm curving breasts push her top prominently outward, while her exquisitely shaped legs bare from her thighs downward draw a long ogle from the sales assistant. 

Master Mah glides his gaze from Paulina’s face, cleavage and to her waist. “What’s your problem?”

“I’ve frequent dizzy spells.” Paulina massages her temples with the pads of her thumb and forefinger.

“Let me check your blood pressure.” Master Mah slips the cuff of a digital spyhgmomanometer over the upper arm of Paulina, jabs a button and reads the LED display. “Systolic pressure’s slightly high but dystolic pressure’s normal.” He places two fingers on Paulina’s wrist. “That can be due to work-related stress.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Nothing wrong physiologically as indicated by your pulse.” He flicks his gaze at Paulina’s face. “You feel the environment’s spinning around you?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of work do you do?” 

A reedy breath floats from Paulina's lips in surprise. “Public relations practitioner.”

“Your dizzy spell is psychosomatic. The mind and body function as one unit. Because your mind's always spinning the truth, going round the mulberry bush, so to speak, your sense of balance has been affected.”

The whites of Paulina’s eyes expand. “Sweet thunderation! I can tweak what you’ve said into an important medical discovery! You know, create a duck out of a feather.” She adjusts her spectacles. “Appoint me as your public relations agent and I can guarantee you interviews in the Medical Journal of Malaysia and the British Medical Journal.”

“Holy blazes! That’s interesting.” Master Mah’s lips quirk as he arches an eye brow. “I never knew that PR’s like your fake boobs! What you see is not what you get. I’ll give your proposal a thought.” He writes something on the manila folder and hands it to the store assistant. “Three packets, once a day, drink before sleeping.”

Paulina opens her handbag and takes out her name card. “Call me when you’ve decided.” She waits at the counter and the store assistant hollers to a twenty-something man, “Your turn, Mister.” Stepping forward, he hands another manila card to the sinseh. 

“What’s wrong with you?” asks the venerable geezer, looking down at the card. “I see, first time here.”

The man adjusts his polka-dot necktie. “My throat’s sore and my gums have boils.” A moustache bisects his nose and upper lip and he’s sporting hair combed straight back.

“Say aaaah.” Master Mah shines a slender torchlight at the man’s throat. “Throat is inflamed.” A pause. “Jeepers creepers! Your incisors’re sharp as fangs!” He asks in jest, “Are you a vampire by night?”

“Nay, I can do better than that.” A heave swells in the patient’s chest. “I’m an insurance salesman.”

“What the fuck! Another profession like fake boobs?” Upright shoots the sinseh, his eyes widening. “What you’re guaranteed, you don’t get.”

“Why you say that?”

“My relative encountered this case. Her granny—with medical insurance— collapsed on the staircase landing, croaked. Then fell to the bottom of the staircase. Autopsy showed a heart attack. The beneficiary filed a claim as a heart attack had killed her. The mother-fuckers refused to pay.  They counter-argued that granny—when still alive—fell down, and then the fall triggered the heart attack. No payment. Death caused directly by the fall, an accident, not directly by the heart attack. Tiew nia ma chow hia!” The geezer casts his gaze down on the manila card, writes on it and hands it over to the patient. “Collect your medicine at the counter, please. Drink twice a day.”

A sneer sprouts on the salesman’s face. “Loopholes and self-legitimized scams are our forte.”  Her expression is as insolent as who-the-fuck-cares?

The next patient is garbed in white long sleeves with white wing collar and bib. He is a few years shy off 40, has a dog-like face, low-browed, with jug ears and a nose hoggishly flat. 

A smile slithers across the sinseh’s wrinkled lips but it does not reach his eyes. “Whoa! You uphold the scales of justice! How honourable!”

“Thank you.” The lawyer allows himself a proud smile. “I won a case this morning.”  His hazel eyes light to attention. “Saved my mobster-client from jail. He was so happy he doubled my fee!”  The flimflammer unbuttons his sleeve and rests his wrist on the small pillow. “My client was charged for possessing heroin.” A little cough puffs out the lawyer’s cheeks. “Sorry, ahem, the charge sheet stated 30 grams, but the chemist’s report—when produced in court— stated 25 grams.  The case was dismissed on technical grounds. Yay! Discrepancy due to evaporation?” The dark-attired snake releases a hyena-like chuckle. “I got someone to fiddle with one of the documents!” He laughs again until his eyes water, and wipes off the tears with one hand.

Master Mah checks the patient’s pulse, then says, “So, you trash justice under the façade of upholding justice? Good, very good.”  After a few beats, the sinseh finishes his diagnosis. “You’ve caught a cold.” The patient removes his wrist from the small pillow.

Racoon-like eyes from the lawyer’s ugly face assess Master Mah. “Wanna talk business? If you get sued for malpractice, gimme a call.” He jags a brow and grins, revealing piranha-like teeth.  “Introduce me a client, you get a 15 percent commission. If that client gets me another client, you get an over-riding of five percent.” He fumbles in his trouser pocket for his wallet and slips out a name card. “Like multi-level marketing.” A politician’s smile veers on his lips.

Master Mah’s flinty eyes dance up to his patient. “The other day, I saw a dead snake and a dead lawyer lying on the DUKE Highway.” He skews him with a look. “I slowed my car as I passed the mangled bodies. There were tyre skid marks around the dead snake but none around the lawyer’s corpse.”

/end

PR consultant Paulina Phuar advises bakery-owner Ranjit Singh how to boost profits

“How can I help you, Mr Ranjit?” asks Paulina (pix below), her tone sticky-sweet.

  

“I run a Bengali bread bakery and profits are down.”  A sigh rolls from Ranjit’s lips.“And I don’t know what to do, so can you help me?”

  

Paulina  leans back in her chair, rests her elbows on its arms and steeples her hands. “Have you tried cutting costs?”

  

“I use dirt-cheap Bangla labour, so there’s not much I can do in that area. I don’t want to compromise on quality by using low-cost inferior ingredients. I want to maintain quality.”

Paulina squints in thought for a moment. “Hmmm…So, that leaves you with two options -- either increase price or pump up sales volume.”

“People only eat bread in the morning. So, how to grow the sales volume? Very difficult, some more I’m in retail sales.”

“Then you’ve to increase price.”

“How to justify the price hike?”

“Have you heard of the word ‘artisanal’ “?

Ranjit shrugs his shoulders. “Nope, Maam.”

“Artisanal food means food made by an artisan and by skilled hands. It’s priced higher than regular food. There’re now artisanal pizza, artisanal ice cream and even artisanal soap -- they're damn expensive! So, re-brand your product and call it ‘artisanal Bengali bread’!”

Ranjit gapes as epiphany strikes him. “Well, I’ll be…”  

 “What’s the name of your bakery?” Paulina’s spectacles slide down her nose and she pushes them up again (pix below).

  

“Ranjit Bengali Bread, Sentul.”

Turning sideways, Paulina taps a few buttons on the keyboard of her computer. “I see that your bakery doesn’t have a Facebook page as yet.” She flicks her gaze from the computer screen to Ranjit. “Never mind, I can create one for you, call it Ranjit Artisanal Bengali Bread.”

Ranjit scrunches his nose. “What if customers post bad reviews?”

Paulina gives a wave of her right hand. “No problem! I can create dozens of fakey Facebook accounts to post good reviews!” She raises two manicured fingers. ”You know, for every bad review, I can post two good ones. In that way, we can maintain a healthy ratio of 2 to 1 in your favour.”  She leans forward on her desk, her eyes gleaming with hope.  “So, can we discuss a social-media-based PR program for your bakery? It can be drawn up to suit your budget.” She pauses for a reply but there is none. “But if you want to go traditional, I can get a two-page write-up on your bakery in next year’s edition of the Holy Book of Sikhism.”

Ranjit’s eyes narrow. “Err, I’d like to consider your suggestion.” He sits upright suddenly, causing the cushion’s springs to creak. “Can you give me your bill, please.”

Paulina’s fingers dance on the computer keyboard  and a printer on her desk spits out a sheet of paper.  “Here you are, sir, my consultancy charges.”

Ranjit’s eyes flare wider when he sees the bottom figure on the bill.“What? So expensive? This is ridiculous!”

“Mr Ranjit….” Paulina clamps her cherry-red lips to stave off a grin. “I offered you artisanal PR consultancy advice, not regular advice.”

/end

PR consultant Paulina Phuar advises job-seeker Jeff how to jazz up his resume

“Jeff, what’s your problem?” Paulina Phuar (pix above), KL’s top PR consultant, looks at him over the rim of her glasses.  Seated across her desk is Jeff Koh, wearing a t-shirt and an ear-ring.  

“I graduated last year but I’m still jobless.” He opens a file and pulls out a sheet of paper. “Here’s my resume. Can you help me to improve on it?” He puts the paper in front of Paulina.

“Sure.” Paulina looks down at Jeff’s resume for a moment and flicks her gaze at him. “I notice you’re tall so for a start, you can add that you’ve good leadership qualities.”

Jeff scribbles down what Paulina says in a spiral-bound notebook.

“What about your social life? Any church activities? Any voluntary work? Any girlfriend?”

“Nope, no girlfriend.” Jeff shakes his head. “I cannot even get a bearded lady for a date, so I only go drinking with male friends. Every weekend I’m out till the wee hours. We can get pretty rowdy in a pub. You know, crack dirty jokes, play darts.”

“You’re too ugly to get a girlfriend, eh?” A crimp wrinkles Paulina’s nose as she ponders for a moment. “But we can twist that into an asset. Say you give work top priority and relegate social life to the backseat. Also, add that you can stay back long hours even after midnight if necessary to meet tight deadlines.” She fingers the side of her face and grins. "Who's to know if you're swilling beer late at night in the office?" 

Jeff’s mobile phone beeps and he dips his hand into his trouser pocket to take it out. “Excuse me.” He reads the sms on his moby and jabs a few buttons to reply.

Paulina snaps her fingers. “Why, of course! You can also include that you’ve excellent written communications skills.” She flicks a downward gaze. "I don't see that in your resume."

Jeff writes down Paulina’s advice.

  

“Just now you mentioned cracking dirty jokes, right?” Paulina purses her lips. “Add that you've a healthy sense of humour that helps build rapport with co-workers.” She leans back in her leather swivel chair which creaks. “Which in turn builds teamwork." She steeples her hands. "So, Jeff, I wish you the best of luck in your job hunt with your improved resume.”

 /end

Copywriting crap on menu can help justify a restaurant’s cut-throat prices, says Paulina Phuar

[Pixs of models for illustration only]

“I want to upgrade my restaurant to charge outrageous prices,” Candy Chu (pix above) says. “But I can’t afford posh furnishings." She waves a skillet in one hand and blows a puff of smoke from one side of her mouth. "So how can I improve public perception of my restaurant to razor my clients?”

Paulina Phuar (pix below), KL's top PR and management consultant, looks at Candy over the rim of her spectacles. “One simple way is to jazz up the descriptions of the food items on your menu. It's cost-effective and cost-efficient.”

“How do you mean?”

Paulina taps her computer keyboard with dazzling speed and clicks a mouse. “I’ll give you a few examples.” She takes the paper spat out by her printer and hands it to Candy. “Please read this.”

Candy squints to read what Paulina has typed.

ORIGINAL
Fresh orange juice. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . RM8

REVISED
Freshly-squeezed Vitamin C-packed . . . . . . . . . . . . RM25
juice from Homosassa oranges grown
in organic soils in Florida, USA


ORIGINAL
Wanton mee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . RM6

REVISED
Hand-made egg noodles dressed in delectable sauce made from. . . . . . . . .RM35
secret recipe, and topped with dumplings bursting with minced
fresh prawns air-flown from Alaska; dew-covered, crunchy choy
sum imported from Shanghai; and BBQ pork that has been
roasted for 4 hours in a special wood-fired oven.


Candy smiles and shows a thumb-up. “That’s brilliant! I get the idea now! All I need to do is revamp my menu." She lifts her handbag from the floor and puts it on her lap. "So how much do I owe you for consultation?”

Paulina taps her keyboard again, prints out her invoice and passes it to Candy.

Holding the invoice in one hand, Candy zooms in on the amount and her jaw drops. “What! Five hundred for a five-minute consultation?”

Paulina leans back in her chair and steeples her hands. “Not exactly. Please read the details column.”

Candy’s eyes bulge as she reads the invoice.

Providing 300 seconds of high-level PR consultation to strategize a cost-. . . . . . RM500
effective income-booster for a restaurant and generating two prototypes
for viewing by client which will be incorporated into her new razor-sharp,
cut-throat menu that will double her profits.

/end

Attractive women should not work for women bosses, says Paulina Phuar

[Pixs of models for illustration only]

“What’s your problem?” asks Paulina Phuar (pix above), KL's top PR and management consultant.

Maggie Ming (pix below) releases an exhale. “I face constant harrassment by my lady boss!”

Paulina removes her spectacles and chews on one temple end. “An attractive woman like you should not work for a female boss.”

Maggie knits her brows. “Why?” She rests her hands on the arms of her chair.

“Many women bosses suffer from the Queen Bee Syndrome.”

“What’s that?”

Paulina leans back in her swivel chair. “The term was coined by G.L. Staines, T.E. Jayaratne and C. Travis in their research study which was published in Psychology Today in 1974. It refers to a woman in a position of authority who’s more critical of her female subordinates vis-a-vis males." She steeples her hands. "As a result, a woman who works under such a female boss will be bullied, pressured and be a victim of nitpicking -– like you for instance. It seems that attractive women are the biggest victims.”

“Come on, today’s 2015. That study was conducted in 1974. The Queen Bee still exists?”

“Of course! In fact, the number of such bitches has grown!” Paulina’s lips upturn in a scowl. “In 2010, the Workplace Bullying Institute conducted a study which showed that female bullies directed their hostilities towards other women 80% of the time. And in 2011, the American Association of Management discovered in a survey of 1,000 women that 95% of them felt they had been undermined by another woman at some point in their career.”

“How to deal with such a bloody bitch –- er, I mean Queen-Bee lady boss?”

“First golden rule is never outdress her! Since you’re curvy, don’t wear clothes that accentuate your figure. Also, never embarrass her even though your intentions are good. For example, if she’s wearing pant suit and her fly in undone, just keep your big mouth shut!" Paulina flashes a grin. "Next, be alert and efficient at all times. Hide a recorder on your person when you’re on a one-on-one meeting with her. Later, when the bitch wants to deny having said this or that, play back the recording! Finally, cultivate a network of alliances. Your co-workers can back you up if the bitch wants to make you the fall guy or gal for anything that has screwed up. Last resort is to resign.”

“What’re the causes of the Queen Bee Syndrome?”

Paulina shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe personal insecurities, a desire for power, self-preservation if she’s middle management.” She flicks a gaze at her watch. “Excuse me a moment.” She jabs a button on her intercom. “Miss Su, have you forgotten my cookies and coffee? It’s already 4pm! Time for my tea! Also, where’re the minutes of my meeting with my clients yesterday? Just now, you came back one minute late from lunch. Never let me catch you doing that again! And tomorrow onward, stop wearing that sheath dress! It’s too sexy for an office. Also, have you made an appointment for my cat to see the vet? Poor Kitty’s not been eating for two days.” Her hands turn into fists and she thumps her desk. “By the way, I just read your draft presentation. It’s not good enough! I want six-star work from you, you hear! You imbecile! ” Paulina flicks the switch on the intercom off, casts her gaze at Maggie and smiles. “Where was I? Oh yes, Queen Bee Syndrome. In fact, some women bosses aren’t even aware they’re afflicted with the Queen Bee Syndrome."

A chuckle erupts from Maggie’s throat (pix below).

/end

Feedback on performance important for employee motivation, says PR consultant Paulina Phuar

[Pix of model for illustration only]

“One of most common faults of management is not to give recognition for good efforts by employees,” says Paulina Phuar, a prominent PR consultant (pix above). “In tandem with this due recognition, honest feedback spurs an employee’s motivation. For instance, Bangsar Shopping Centre has one of the cleanest toilets in the city compared to other malls because efforts are given due recognition. There is a sign inside every toilet that announces the name of the toilet cleaner and a phone number for praise and complaints. That’s what I call good management. And also good PR.”

/end

Why don't the Red Shirts protest outside the office of TIME magazine since its recent article has been hurtful to Malay pride? asks Paulina Phuar, PR Consultant

[Pix of model for illustration purpose only]

“Recently, the influential TIME magazine published an article titled “5 Reasons Why Obama Should Steer Clear of Malaysian PM Najib Razak” says PR consultant, Paulina Phuar (pix above). “You can read the article below. In my opinion, it is hurtful and insulting to Malay pride, so why don’t the Red Shirts hold a rally outside its office?” She pushes her spectacles up her nose and reads from her note pad. “The office of Time magazine is Time & Life Building, 1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.” She releases an exhale. “Another alternative venue is outside the American Embassy at 376, Jalan Tun Razak, Kuala Lumpur where the Red Shirts can show off their board-breaking and tile-breaking skills.” Her eyebrows scrunch. "That's the way to show they're political-conscious people with high intellect rather than behave like Malaysian hillbillies intimidating traders in Petaling Street, Low Yat Plaza and Bukit Bintang."


“5 Reasons Why Obama Should Steer Clear of Malaysian PM Najib Razak” by Charlie Campbell (TIME magazine, July 28, 2015)

[Source: http://time.com/3974380/obama-malaysia-najib-razak-1mdb/]

The U.S.’s “rebalancing” toward Asia has two main pillars: being a counterweight to China and securing a free-trade deal called the Trans-Pacific Partnership. If Washington is to succeed on both fronts, it needs as many friends in the region as it can win. The U.S.’s newest ally is Malaysia, this year’s chair of the 10-member Association of Southeast Nation, collectively a growing market, and, on the surface, a modern, democratic, Muslim country. In April 2014 U.S. President Barack Obama paid an official visit to Malaysia, the first sitting President to do so in decades, and, later in the year, played golf with Malaysian Prime Minister Najib Razak when both were on holiday in Honolulu. This November, Kuala Lumpur will host the next East Asia Summit and Obama is due to attend.

But recently, all the news coming out of Malaysia is negative. After becoming embroiled in a corruption scandal, Najib on Tuesday sacked his deputy and Malaysia’s attorney general in an apparent purge of critics. British Prime Minister David Cameron is facing a domestic backlash for pushing forward with a visit to Kuala Lumpur this week despite the snowballing controversy. Here are five reasons why Obama might want to break from Cameron by giving Najib a wide berth.

{source: Time magazine]


1. 1MDB — A Wall Street Journal report has alleged that Najib’s personal bank accounts received nearly $700 million in March 2013 from 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB), a government-owned development fund. Najib has protested his innocence and threatened legal action against the Journal. “I am not a thief,” Najib toldMalaysian media on July 5. “I am not a traitor and will not betray Malaysians.” The police, the local anticorruption agency, the attorney general’s office and the central bank are investigating the allegations. On July 8, the police raided 1MDB’s office in Kuala Lumpur and took away documents. Even before the latest news, 1MDB was an embarrassment for Najib, who chaired the fund’s advisory board as debts of $11.6 billion were accrued. Such are the suspicions of malfeasance that former Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad, who ran the country from 1981 to 2003 and has long been considered Najib’s mentor, has repeatedly called for his protégé’s resignation over 1MDB’s alleged mishandling.

2. Anwar Ibrahim — Najib’s main political rival is once again in prison for a sodomy conviction. Human Rights Watch deemed his five-year sentence handed down Feb. 10 to be “politically motivated proceedings under an abusive and archaic law.” This is the second time Anwar has been jailed for sodomy.

3. Hudud — Stoning for adultery and amputation for theft are not the kind of punishments meted out by the progressive state that Malaysia purports to be. Yet Najib’s United Malays National Organisation (UMNO) is supporting attempts to introduce hudud Islamic law in the Pan-Malaysian Islamic Party’s (PAS) heartland state of Kelantan, where nightclubs are forbidden and men and women are designated separate public benches. Why is UMNO supportive of recognizinghudud under federal law? Largely because PAS is part of a three-party Pakatan Rakyat coalition that is UNMO’s chief challenger. The other partners — Anwar’s Keadilan, or People’s Justice Party, supported by middle-class, urban Malays, and the Chinese Malaysian–backed Democratic Action Party (DAP) — are strongly against hudud. Many analysts accuse UMNO of cynically fostering a radical Islamic bent to widen rifts in its political opponents.

4. Shaariibuugiin Altantuyaa — In 2002, when Najib was Defense Minister, a $1.25 billion contract was signed to purchase two Scorpène submarines from French firm DCNS. Altantuyaa was a Mongolian woman who, knowing French, facilitated negotiations as a translator, and then allegedly attempted to blackmail Abdul Razak Baginda, one of Najib’s aides with whom she was also having an affair, for $500,000 over “commission” payments he had allegedly received. Two policemen posted to Najib’s bodyguard detail were convicted of murdering Altantuyaa on Oct. 18, 2006. Najib denies any involvement.

5. Prevention of Terrorism Act — Najib campaigned on scrapping the controversial Internal Security Act (ISA) but then immediatelyreplaced it with the equally sweeping Prevention of Terrorism Act (POTA) and Security Offences (Special Measures) Act, or SOSMA. The POTA includes practically the same powers as ISA, including two-year detention without trial, and was dubbed a “legal zombie arising from the grave of the abusive [ISA]” by Human Rights Watch. Najib also vowed to repeal the similarly maligned Sedition Act but reneged after his election in 2013. In fact, in April his government extended the maximum jail term under the Sedition Act from three to 20 years.

/end

Paulina Phuar, KL’s hottest PR consultant, visits Master Mah, a Chinese traditional doctor

[Pixs of models for illustration only]

Master Mah, a Chinese sinseh, looks up from his desk. “Next!”

Paulina Phuar (pix above) goes from the waiting area to settle down at the chair beside Master Mah’s desk. His medical hall is tucked on the ground floor of Pak Peng Building at Petaling Street.

Master Mah (pix below) glides his gaze from Paulina’s face, cleavage and to her waist. “What’s your problem?”

“I’ve frequent dizzy spells.” Paulina massages her temples with the pads of her thumb and forefinger.

“Let me check your blood pressure.” Master Mah slips the cuff of a digital spyhgmomanometer over the upper arm of Paulina, jabs a button and reads the LED display. “Systolic pressure’s slightly high but dystolic pressure’s normal.” He places two fingers on Paulina’s wrist. “That can be due to work-related stress.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Nothing wrong physiologically as indicated by your pulse.” He flicks his gaze at Paulina’s face. “You feel the environment’s spinning around you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a public relations consultant aka spin-doctor?”

A reedy breath floats from Paulina's lips in surprise. “Gee, how do you know?”

“Your dizzy spell is psychosomatic. The mind and body function as one unit. Because your mind's always spinning the truth, going round the mulberry bush, so to speak, your sense of balance has been affected.”

The whites of Paulina’s eyes expand. “Sweet thunderation! I can tweak what you’ve said into an important medical discovery! You know, create a duck out of a feather.” She adjusts her spectacles. “Appoint me as your public relations agent and I can guarantee you interviews in the Medical Journal of Malaysia and the British Medical Journal.”

“Holy blazes! That’s interesting.” Master Mah’s lips quirk as he arches an eye brow. “I never knew that PR’s like your fake boobs! What you see is not what you get.” He takes a pen and starts to write out a prescription on a pad. “I’ll give your proposal a thought.” He tears out the first sheet and hands it over to Paulina. “Boil this medicine, drink before sleeping.”

Paulina opens her handbag and takes out her name card. “Call me when you’ve decided.” She goes to the big wooden counter, and hands over the prescription sheet to the store assistant. While waiting, she notices a man -– his green necktie hanging like a stinky bean from his neck -– sidle up to the sinseh’s desk.

She overhears Master Mah ask, “What’s wrong with you?”

“My throat’s sore and my gums have boils.”

“Say aaaah.” Master Mah shines a slender torchlight at the man’s throat. “Throat is inflamed.” A pause. “Jeepers creepers! Your incisors are as sharp as fangs!” He asks in jest, “Are you a blood-sucking vampire by night?”

“Nay, I can do better than that. I’m a lawyer by day and night.”

“Your body is heaty.” He starts to scribble on his pad. “Boil this herbal prescription and drink it.”

The man's shifty eyes assess Master Mah. “By the way, if anyone wants to sue you for malpractice, gimme a call.” He fumbles in his trouser pocket for his wallet and slips out a name card. “If you can introduce a fellow sinseh as a client, I’ll be happy to give you a ten percent commission.” He jags a brow and grins. "If your fellow sinseh gets another client for me, you’ll get an over-riding commission of three percent. You know, like multi-level marketing.”

Master Mah shifts in his seat to face the man. “The other day, I saw a dead snake and a dead lawyer lying on the DUKE Highway.” He skews him with a look. “I slowed my car as I passed the mangled bodies. There were tyre skid marks around the dead snake but none around the lawyer’s corpse.”

/end

Paulina Phuar, KL’s top PR consultant, amps up her client’s public image

[Pixs of model for illustration purpose only]

“My PR campaign can get your company a two-page write-up in the Holy Bible,” Paulina Phuar (pix above) says to her client Tan Sri Danny Ding. “Not to mention a one-page feature in the Tripikata -– the holy book of Buddhism.” A grin eases its way across her face. “So can we discuss my retainer fees?”

“How? What's your strategy?” Ding sips his Long Black, eyes sparkling with interest.

They are sitting at a café in Desa Parkcity fronting the lawn where dog-walkers are strolling with their mutes on leashes. Children’s laughter and the gurgle of a meandering brook float in the air.

Paulina covers her mouth as she giggles (pix below). “My strategy contains nothing, just empty zilch," she holds up her left hand and forms an 'O' with her forefinger and thumb, "but it can elevate your corporate image to the stratosphere. That's the magic of PR. It’s just a hot air balloon."

Ding’s eyes bulge. “Holy thunderation!” He points to the paved walkway ten yards away. “A pit bull’s attacking a little girl!”

Without hesitating, Paulina springs from her chair, dashes to the walkway and wrestles the brute to the ground. Ding strides to the scene. In a ferocious fight, Paulina chokes the animal to death with her pantyhose stocking.

A group of on-lookers gather around the dead dog and the little girl, still crying. A man steps forward from the crowd. “I’m a journalist from Kuala Lumpur Times." He flips out a note pad from his shirt pocket. “What happened here?”

Rising to her feet, Paulina points to her client. “This brave gentleman Tan Sri Danny Ding killed the dog and saved the child’s life.”

“Wow! What a sensational story!”

Paulina dusts herself. “Tan Sri Danny is CEO of a public-listed company. Just as his company is noted for its corporate social responsibility programmes, Tan Sri himself is a civic-minded and courageous citizen.” She winks at Ding, who shows her a thumb-up.

The next morning, Paulina scans the front-page of the Kuala Lumpur Times. Her jaw sags a full inch when she reads the headline: "Public-listed company CEO viciously strangles family pet to death!"

/end