WE'LL MISS YOU, KUMAR
BY YONG SIEW FERN
Apr 3, 2000
THAT'S all, folks.
And he couldn't help but cry.
Kumar, the funny man who had been making people laugh at The Boom
Boom Room, was a tearful sight last night.
And who could blame him?
After all, it WAS closing night.
But more of Kumar's tears later.
Sure it's sad to see them go. But it's just as well that The Boom
Boom Room closed its doors after eight years yesterday.
Or this early morning if you will.
The people on and off stage deserve a bigger, better place.
If it got any more popular - especially at times when it said it is
closing and seemingly sentimental Singaporeans swarmed to catch its
last shows - the whole room would have flouted fire safety
standards to outrageous measures.
At its closing party last night, the Bugis comedy joint was
rumbling in its own belly of wild fire.
O LA LA!: Is that you, Kumar? My, what a cute bra you have... Eh,
can borrow or not?
It was holding a sweltering 400-odd crowd in its premises that
feature antiquated dull red carpets, peeling ceilings, heavy red
stools and plenty of large fans and air-coolers that had long given
up on turning heat to cold.
Guests by private invitation sashayed in from 8 pm onwards. Then,
by 10 pm, after the place was opened to the public and the first
snaking queue of people had found its way into the throbbing belly,
it was almost impossible to find a trace of fresh oxygen.
People were packed body-to-body.
So it was that when the deejay shouted "If you have a lighter, put
it up!", a silent prayer was said so no fool would actually combust
everyone.
Occasionally, the PSI reading for the room reached 200, with very
poor visibility of the crowd on the other end of the room -
courtesy of cigarette smoke and smoke machines.
It was almost mystical - or maybe it was just the air-starved mind
hallucinating.
It was a culture shock of sorts - and not because of the
performers. The last time I visited the club three years ago, it
was comfortable even if you had to stand.
Its managing director, Alan Koh, deadpanned: "For the past two
weeks, it's been like this. The queue would go up to the main road.
It's not Hello Kitty. It's Goodbye Kumar.
HMMM: Eh, who says I modern only? Sometimes, I'm traditional, too.
Go East lah.
"Just like what Kumar said, it's so Singaporean. For the past 7½
years, he's been here and no one comes but when we say we're
closing, everyone is here."
They have had to turn away people on other nights and when I asked
if there were fire exits in the room, he pointed loosely to three
spots but I was too groggy to figure them out.
Gratefully, at 11 pm, the red velvet stage curtains finally spread
open like a seasoned, er, dancer.
Then, everything else seemed the same as three years ago - the
bright lights, even brighter costumes, impressive choreography and
choice songs.
Only this time, there were more new faces alongside the old ones
and the acts had become very polished.
No newbies were out there testing waters for their stand-up comic
skills - they left it to pros such as Sherry, Leena and
Kumar.
They poured their hearts, bra paddings, stockings and tight butts
into what they do best - their favourite cabaret numbers which
tossed out the funny nuances of Singapore's three main ethnic
groups.
ARGUMENT
WOW: Aiyo, this dress is so tight lah. Breathless boy...
But at least one woman in the audience was not touched by their
efforts as she started a late-night argument with Kumar during his
stand-up gig about the people he poked fun at.
"If you're uneducated, don't come to this club," he retorted.
"One more word from her, let's kill her!" Kumar urged as she
refused to give up.
The audience - which by then had included the cast of Chicago the
musical - yelled their approval.
When the show ended at 2 am, the night came to a very sticky hot
drag as all 22 performers and two managers said their thanks to
mostly the same people.
Kumar cried, as did Alan and half of the performers. After all,
it's been a hard day's night. For many, many nights.
So thank you, guys, for making us laugh.
Take a bow.
from The New Paper, 3 April 2000