I don’t quite get this. I don’t even understand his name. ‘Mark V11’? Is that ‘Mark 7’ misspelled? Or ‘Mark V+11=16’?

Anyway, with the insouciant self-exposure of youth, he slags off on the PM on his Facebook page using language that is likely to put off any prospective employer who bothers to check. Then he joins Academy Fantasia, who obviously didn’t bother with an internet check.

The cyber vigilantes then take over. They expose his anti-Prime Ministerial pronouncements and, at least according to his Dad (Mark IV11?) (Mark V10?), fabricate some anti-monarchical sentiments. That’s going from the silly to the suicidal.

And not just for the young lad himself, ego and all, but also for True Corp, who run this shebang and who will have been very quick to compute this PR debacle into a hole in their cash flow.

Shouldn’t they have checked all this ahead of time? Of course they should, and their painful lesson has not been lost on the entertainment world, or at least that part of it that relies on ordinary people exposing their ignorance, their family relations, or their bodies for public titillation.

You can’t even sniff your 15 minutes of fame these days without going through some kind of background check. Take, for example, the application process that would-be contestants for Miss Watermelon of Prachinburi must undergo, which Prachatai was lucky enough to witness.

‘Next! And you are, er, Miss …’

(The layered make-up cracks open into what the scrutiny panel hopes is a smile.)

‘Miss Anchalee. But in my family call me ‘Uan’ because I very chubby when baby.’

‘Yes, that’s, er, very nice.’

‘But not chubby now, you can see.’

(Readers should be aware that the interviews for beauty contests are probably unique in that the interviewee never sits down.)

‘Er, no. We noticed that.’

‘Except certain parts still well rounded.’

(The applicant assumes a pose to emphasize this fact.)

‘Yes, er, today we won’t be looking at your qualifications in terms of physical attributes.’ (The pose sags.) ‘Now tell us, are you or have you ever been involved with a political movement associated with a particular colour?’

‘You mean my dress? I can change. One second.’

(The applicant, whose dress is already rather tight and short, prepares to pull it over her head. She is quickly stopped.)

‘No, no, we mean, have you ever been to a political rally of any kind?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Have you expressed any partisan political convictions?’

‘Conviction? Like jail?’

‘No, not that. I mean, what do you think about politics?’

‘Oh, I see.’ (Assumes mock serious expression with beaming smile.) ‘If chosen to be Miss Watermelon of Prachinburi, I will devote my year of office to the cause of world peace and national harmony under the gracious guidance of …’

‘No, we weren’t asking for a speech, we just need to check your background. No, please don’t turn round. Have you, for example, ever posted anything on a social networking site?’

‘Social … ?’

‘Facebook?’

‘Facebook? You mean mirror?’

‘No, it’s something on the internet.’

‘Oh, internet, yes.’ (She searches her memory for the practised response.) ‘For my husband, I want husband who polite, rich, handsome and can do internet in the computer.’

‘Er, thank you. Could you give us a moment to confer?’

(The three panellists whisper among themselves.)

First Panellist: ‘What do you think? We’ve not been able to get any sense out of her. Bit of a risk.’

Second Panellist: ‘I don’t think there’s anything to get out. She should be safe. It’s just she’s got nothing upstairs.’

Third Panellist, whose silent gaze has never moved higher than Ms Anchalee’s neck: ‘Oh I don’t know. They don’t look padded to me.’

About author: Bangkokians with long memories may remember his irreverent column in The Nation in the 1980's. During his period of enforced silence since then, he was variously reported as participating in a 999-day meditation retreat in a hill-top monastery in Mae Hong Son (he gave up after 998 days), as the Special Rapporteur for Satire of the UN High Commission for Human Rights, and as understudy for the male lead in the long-running ‘Pussies -not the Musical' at the Neasden International Palladium (formerly Park Lane Empire).