Brolly Folly.

One of my earliest memories is of the time a weathergirl made the news because the forecast was for rain, and she told everyone to, "Bring your brollies!" That must have been a whole two weeks ago.

Well no, I'm not in the terminal stages of Alzheimer's yet, as old as I am. I think it was when I was a teenager. Everyone was all RARGH RARGH BACK TO RUSSIA at her for sayings brollies. An interesting example of the national psyche, I thought. Having thrown off the yoke of yonder, we're all anti-angmoh, but secretly still in love with them, like that creepy kid you met in kindergarten who calls you ten years later.

Being able to contain more than a single thought at a time, unlike certain PR managers I've met, I also thought more about it. Why the hate? Brollies seems a charming way to shorten umbrellas. And the people who rage against it have nothing against shortening. "Yah you take the ECP then turn to the PIE, then at the TFL at the end you turn left again, and at the end of the road is the FBN, very good one."

TFL and FBN stand for traffic light and fishball noodles. Yes, I made those up. But, true story, an ex's sister once said she was going to HV. Holland Village. After PP. Pasir Panjang. That kind of stupidity, you can't make up.

But yes, umbrellas. Now that I'm older and uglier, I've realised that perhaps the rage back then wasn't so much, "brollies". It was the mere mention of umbrellas. Because umbrellas are the work of the devil, these days.

If you're above 30, or pushing it, you may not have heard of this song. Like a lot of the songs these days, catchy catchy, dancy dancy, umch umch. But don't get too close to it. Because then you'll realise the chorus is:

Under my umbrella...ella...ella
Eh Eh Eh
Under my umbrella...ella...ella
Eh Eh Eh

Seriously, WTF? It's true that rap can make you dance to anything, but aren't there people out there getting their groove on to the song and then going, "Wait, I'm dancing to...one word. And it's 'umbrella'. What am I doing with my life?"

Still, I can run for cover when the song plays. Stuff socks in my ears. Order ten more gin tonics so I won't be able to make out the words. But, now that I walk my demon dog from hell to work every day, I cannot avoid the physical aspect of umbrellas.

What, does it rain here every day? Depends on the time of year and whether it's been unusually NO IT DOES NOT. IT IS STILL VERY SUNNY HERE MOSTLY. Yet every day, umbrellas. Wielded by delicate office flowers like an autistic chimpanzee wields his own poo - unpleasantly.

You see, when you open an umbrella and stand under it, regardless of its size, you extend your personal space three times. It's been scientifically proven. By scientists. Walking along the pavement, it's not so bad. You can kind of scoot to the side. Traffic lights is when I begin to lose it.

Like bowels, traffic lights regulate the flow of waste material. Release, flow, wait for buildup. I have to walk past these buildups. Three girls wielding three umbrellas, with the intelligence of a snail between them, take up the space of nine people. And I have a demon dog from hell, who insists on straying as far from me as possible. Add twenty-seven normal people, not carrying umbrellas because IT IS NOT RAINING, into the mix, and you have a sticky situation. Kind of like having to walk past Michael Jackson if you're a nine-year-old boy. Also, though I'm not very tall, I'm taller than most women here. So the flaming spikes of death that are the points on these cutesy Pikachu strawberry-flavoured umbrellas are right at the level of my eye.

It wouldn't be so bad. I could just be annoyed and get on with my life. I'm fine with that. But I'm a thinking person. I'm hitting the office lunch crowd, and I can see the buildings these failures of evolution have exited from. It is a minute from the traffic light. I know the area well - I know all the places they can possibly go to eat. They are...on the other side of the traffic light, give or take thirty seconds. I'll be generous - ten minute's journey total, to and from. And that's if you have no limbs.

You know, you need those ten minutes. You need to be in the sun to for your body to manufacture Vitamin D. Which is essential for hregboegrboe. For ten minutes in the sun, you feel you need to be sheltered the whole way? No wonder Singaporean men are marrying abroad.

I'm a fair person. You need to go an hour in the sun, maybe more, you carry umbrella on hot day, ok. These people seem to take their umbrellas out at the slightest sign of daylight. It's like the people who wear sunglasses indoors: you look retarded. And you've only avoided stabbing me in the eye because I'm all ninja like that. It doesn't help that you're too engrossed in your conversation about how you're not wearing the right eyeshadow to match your shoes that you don't notice I'm directing a half-retarded dog. And then you go eek, ahhh, eeyur. It's not cute. It makes me want to punch you in the face.

There is, indeed, an idiot born every minute. They now sell umbrellas with SPF. Advertised boldly, and proudly, in a, "See what else we've come up with to take your money, suckers," way. And you should see the number of women who throng the bin like sharks at a feeding frenzy when these umbrellas are on sale. I think it showed how mature I've become when I didn't set the bin on fire when I first saw it. "It was for humanity!!!" I would cry, as I was being led away by security.

This makes it even more difficult for me to date. I would meet someone, it would be fantabulous, and the moment she excused herself to go powder her nose but in reality call her girlfriends to tell them how creepy I am, I would be rummaging through her bag. And I would be caught, umbrella in hand. She would be all shock shock horror horror, and I would be able to offer in my defense is...

"Um. I was just checking for SPF. Please believe me. I really like you, Celine. I mean, Jane."