My wife and I recently spent a fortnight in Vietnam. I had assiduously avoided the place in the late 60’s and early 70’s for obvious reasons.

As those who have been there will know, if you travel on foot for more than four paces you are going to be accosted by numerous cyclos (bicycle richshaw type operators) and motor cycles taxis all offering “One Hour, One Hour”.

After a few days I had the first few lines of the chorus of this song running through my head. Realistically, though, I didn’t know where the heck I was going to take it. I had a few undergrad lines about not “having enough dong” etc, but that wasn’t going to work in a full song, so I put it on the backburner. Maybe a silly ditty at a later stage.

On our last night there, I ducked out of our hotel room to get some beer and some cigarettes (please don’t tell the wife) at a convenience store directly opposite our hotel.

While I was waiting for the lights to chance (for those that have been to Vietnam, that will seem a stupid statement because no self-respecting Vietnamese motorist obeys a traffic light), a motor cycle pulled up in front of me. I’d not seen a female motor-cycle taxi before, and in fact didn’t see one then, because she was offering a different sort of ride. The price was somewhat more expensive than the normal cab, but the range of services was significantly extended.

After extricating myself from this experience (two hours later…..no just kidding) the song came back and had more meaning. It would be about that one hour with someone you shouldn’t be with. The cyclo, the mobile (or any other) hooker, the one night stand…..even the first consultation with a lawyer ……lol.