LIFE in Port Moresby for me and Rose and me wasn't all flowers and sweet talk. One weekend Rose went missing. Around midnight I got worried and (perhaps foolishly) decided to trawl the nightclubs and discos to try and find her.
I eventually ended up at the 21 Club, Boroko, not perhaps the best place for a single waitman on a Saturday night. But they let me in, and I got chatting to some local barflies and eventually learned that she had been seen earlier but had moved on.
A lovely young lady came up to me and said, "If you buy me a drink I can tell you more." Which I did, but something was not quite right. She was very friendly, but through the bar's rather dim illumination I realised she was not a she but one of the Gay Night entrants I had not voted for at the Shady Rest a few weeks before.