May 20, 2010

Small Penis Syndrome

Filed under: Uncategorized — theinkhorn @ 1:07 pm

There is a disease, a condition, that has been plaguing this country for as long as we can remember. An illness so dangerous, finding a cure would be almost miraculous. Many of us suffer from it, but not many will admit it. It is also believed, by me at least, that if we can cure this disease, we can solve most, if not all the problems we face today. The unfortunate condition our country suffers from, ladies and gentlemen, is Small Penis Syndrome.

Yes, our country has a tiny tonker. A wee winkle. And I suspect it’s the Marina Bay/Sentosa region. It would certainly make sense; it’s the Southern region and every weekend we use it to take a wank. Every decision, every word, every muscle the country has ever developed has been, in part at least, due to our self-perceived inadequacy. We’re like a short guy with a small “staff”; we have to really buff up so people don’t take a piss at us. Hence the economic and financial muscle, the harsh, no nonsense stance, the more or less nonsensical and illogical laws, and the weird people hanging around.

It explains everything we’ve ever done up til this point. Like the short guy with a dwarfish dong, whom I shall now refer to as Ernie, we would feel the need to overcompensate our lack of… manhood, by attempting to overachieve in other areas. Ernie would work out, make sure he had some serious bulk where people could see it. Arms, abs, chest, quads, calves and arse.

“People won’t mess with me now,” he thinks to himself as he continues to work on the stairmaster.

Ernie leaves the gym after 3 hours, sore and aching, and ponders his next move.

“I know. I’ll go earn some money. Deck myself with bling so people can’t mess with me.”

And off he struts, making sure to walk with his legs wide open so that it looks like he’s packing jumbo junk. He goes home, turns on his computer, and begins to sell his comic book collection and action figures on eBay. He also decides that since he’s selling stuff, might as well put his dignity, morals, compassion, and common sense up for sale.

“They only weigh me down,” he mutters. Bids start at $1 and all four are snapped up in just a few seconds for a staggering $4.20.

Ernie, absolutely chuffed at the money he’s made, then decides to get some bling. After all, nothing says powerful like money. And nothing says rich like diamonds. He goes to the store and purchases what they call a Helix bracelet. Pretty and expensive. He also decides to get a few tattoos. For starters, a wanky band around his right bicep.

“People will think I’m tough, and I don’t take shit from anyone,” Ernie sniggers as the tattoo artist puts the finishing touches on.

He also decides to get the words “Monsieur Dirigeant, Poignarder” tattooed on his chest, a grammatically incorrect phrase that translates literally to” Mister Ruler, Stab”. “People will think I’m sophisticated, yet dangerous at the same time,” Ernie’s rather pleased with himself now.

Finally, the sun begins to set and the night takes over.

“I need to hang out with some cool people. Like foreigners. Expats. That will make me look really cool, like I’m liberal and influenced by western ideals. But, I’ll approach with caution so people will think I’m still holding on to my Asian roots”.

He goes to a bar, and begins chatting to some Caucasian patrons. He’s having a good time, but they don’t look pleased. Ernie excuses himself and heads to the bathroom.

“What do you think?” The American asks the 2 Brits.

“We are not amused.”

“Ja.” The Swede agrees.

“Let’s bugger off then.”

Ernie returns to find that they’ve left, but not before finishing the drinks he bought for them. And his own. They’ve even put a few bottles of beer under his tab. Ernie now realises that he has to find some company soon. From the corner of his eye he spots a group of asian patrons, except they’re speaking broken English with various South-East Asian accents. “Oh what the hell…” he takes a deep breah and walks over.

The next morning, Ernie wakes up in his bed, a Vietnamese lying beside him, a Filipino on the floor and the two Thais in the corner, surrounded by a fort made of beer bottles. His testicles feel swollen and his arse is bleeding. He calls up his only friend to tell him about the night. He anticipates sympathy, or at least a reaction that is not of indifference. Instead, all he gets is a “Please see your MP. I am but a deaf frog in a well, without a care in the world.”

“Come on! I was arse-raped…!”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk right now. I’m heading to a new country. Er… City. Er… Country. Er… Nevermind.”

And so, Ernie, arse-raped and rejected by his only friend, sits gingerly on his couch and begins his self-reflection.

As a country, we have attempted to build a defense for ourselves by forcing upon our young men 2 years of national service. We have attempted to build up our financial muscle, constantly referring to our GDP as the most obvious sign that we’re doing the right workouts. We’ve exchanged our humanity for petty cash and a tough guy label. We’ve adopted the MDP to prove that we don’t mess around. We’ve offered ourselves up to foreigners, only to find that the smarter ones have sucked our resources dry and left us hanging. So we settle for the ones who can barely communicate and in the end, all we get is arse-raped. And when we try to seek help from the ones we think will do us good, we get turned down, rejected, trod on.

All because we have Small Penis Syndrome. Too high a price to pay, don’t you think?


  1. Well articulated with use of penis analogy.

    The inherent problem can be traced to those at the helm running the country.

    This explains why we have a PM who needs a whole bunch of people around him. One MM, two SM, two DPM, three in the PMO.
    What the heck! even the wife is taking advantage of the small penis syndrome.

    Comment by penisAndperformance — May 21, 2010 @ 10:24 am

  2. Well, what can I say except that Viagra is not cheap. No discount even for small penis! After all, the dosage will be more potent relative to area for distribution per sq mm, eh?

    That’s why it’s costing each of us amongst the 4.99mn population S$0.54 per day to manage this tiny tonker.

    The Pariah,

    Comment by The Pariah — May 21, 2010 @ 12:41 pm

  3. Sad but true. Anyway, entralling article. A true work of art!

    Comment by Dick — May 21, 2010 @ 1:55 pm

  4. superb. well thought thru, well articulated, hits the nail on the head – just like your other pieces. this condition you write about has long been associated with physically short men. makes sense that v small city-states which are “unique” – and short in several ways (we are definitely short of humility, and these days, it would seem, common sense, graciousness, etc etc too) – would also suffer from it.

    Comment by genghis — May 21, 2010 @ 2:45 pm

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