Moves like Jaggers.

Okay, last one, I promise – and then I’ll stop flogging this dead horse:

I got the moves like Jaggers

Context here:

I embrace this opportunity of remarking that [Mr. Jaggers] washed his clients off, as if he were a surgeon or a dentist. He had a closet in his room, fitted up for the purpose, which smelt of the scented soap like a perfumer’s shop. It had an usually large jack-towel on a roller inside the door, and he would wash his hands, wipe them and dry them all over this towel, whenever he came in from a police court or dismissed a client from his room. When I and my friends repaired to him at six o’clock the next day, he seemed to have been engaged on a case of a darker complexion than usual, for, we found him with his head butted into this closet, not only washing his hands, but laving his face and gargling his throat. And even when he had done all that, and had gone all round the jack-towel, he took out his penknife and scraped the case out of his nails before he put his coat on.

— Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Even more information here, in case you didn’t understand the symbolism.

Why is Potong Pasir so delightful?

While I was on my way to work, I saw an old man cycling down Potong Pasir Ave 1 with this huge-ass emerald-coloured parrot perched on his handlebars.

It was such a delightful sight, and I regret not taking a photo of it.

Nevertheless, I give you MAX PERRY instead as an EQUIVALENT substitute: