There seems to be no accounting for political twists, cultural conundrums, religious rigmarole and, at times, health concerns that result in bans on certain items in countries around the world. While some taboos are understandable and somewhat expected, others that prohibit the use of everyday items like baby walkers and mannequin displays do come as a bit of a surprise.

For example, who died on 23 March this year, is famed as the man who turned Singapore from a small port into a global trading hub, but he also insisted on tidiness and good behaviour —nd personified the country’ ban on chewing gum. What was it about gum he so disliked?

For a while after the gum ban was introduced in 1992 it was all foreign journalists wanted to talk about, Lee Kuan Yew complained later, in conversation with an American writer Tom Plate. That and caning, as a form of punishment. The ban remains one of the best-known aspects of life in Singapore, along with the country&’s laws against litter, graffiti, jaywalking, spitting, expelling “mucus from the nose” and urinating anywhere but in a toilet.

(If it&’s a public toilet, you are legally required to flush it.)

When Singapore became independent in 1965 it was a tiny country with few resources, so Lee, the country&’s first Prime Minister, hatched a survival plan. This hinged on making the city state a “first-world oasis in a third-world region”. Before very long, Singapore was outstripping other developed countries in terms of its cleanliness, clipped lawns and efficient transport system. The Cambridge-educated Lee, it seems, was aiming for perfection.

“For many years as a visiting columnist, I, too, chewed over the puzzle of the chewing gum conundrum, but came to understand that the tendency to stick the remains of the gum in every which place was viewed by the authorities as a palpable attack on Singapore&’s ambition to be perfect,” writes Plate, in his book Giants of Asia: Conversations with Lee Kuan Yew. “That is, it was anti-utopian. It was gumming up the works. As far as LKY and his team were concerned, the yucky habit, commonplace in the old days, was a palpable enemy of progress. The way to edge forward toward utopia was simple: simply outlaw chewing gum.”

By the time the gum ban was implemented, Lee had completed 31 years as Prime Minister and had become “senior minister”, a big power behind the scenes. “We were called a nanny state,” he told the BBC&’s Peter Day in 2000. “But the result is that we are today better behaved and we live in a more agreeable place than 30 years ago.”

At that time, Lee was pushing for a “new burst of creativity in business” and Day “hesitantly” suggested that chewing gum stuck to the pavements might be a sign that the desired new spirit of creativity had arrived.

Lee grimaced. “Putting chewing gum on our subway train doors so they don’t open, I don’t call that creativity. I call that mischief-making,” he replied. “If you can’t think because you can’t chew, try a banana.”

Lee felt there was a public policy solution to everything, Plate says, even that gum on the pavement, or the doors of the “mass rapid transit” trains. “He was what I call a pragmatic utopian,” Plate says. “He woke up in the morning and said, ‘How can I make it better today?”

Gum is, anyway, “largely legally chewable” nowadays, Plate says. It has always been legal to bring small amounts into the country for one&’s own use. Since 2004 — as a result of the US-Singapore Free Trade Agreement — pharmacists and dentists have also been allowed to sell “therapeutic” gum, to customers with a medical prescription. This includes standard sugar-free gum. But you’d still face a steep fine for spitting out the chewed gum and leaving it as litter. “We joke about these policies… we Singaporeans describe Singapore as a ‘fine city’ — a tongue-in-cheek reference to the many fines that can be imposed for various types of social misconduct,” says Eugene Tan, an associate professor of law at the Singapore Management University. And despite the change in the law in 2004, “one would be hard-pressed to find people chewing gum in Singapore”, he says.

He personally doesn’t miss it. “The footpaths look a lot nicer without the ugly gum marks,” he says.

That done with, Ovaltine and Marmite are two of the most popular products disallowed by a Danish law that requires government approval for any foods fortified with vitamins or minerals. The law took effect in 2004, causing problems for large manufacturers like Kellogg&’s as well as small shopowners who could not afford the cost of getting the government&’s seal of approval for their products. The Danes believe that a balanced diet supplies all the vitamins and minerals one could need, and that too much of these things can cause harm.

In China, the no-no is directed at time travel… well, movies and shows about time travel. Actual time travel isn’t possible yet, unless China knows something the rest of us don’t. Anyway, apparently the Chinese authorities feel that representations of time travel result in frivolous depictions of “serious history” so they decided to ban it.

In Kim Jong-Un&’s Korea, the axe is on blue jeans, not black. Apparently the colour is associated with the USA so North Korea banned them.

In Germany, if you do run out of gas, don’t think about heading off on foot to find a gas station — walking on the Autobahn is also prohibited.

In Japan, dancing in clubs is out. It may seem strange that in a country where cities like Tokyo are renowned for their nightlife, dancing in clubs is illegal, but it&’s true. A law passed in 1948 to protect “public morals” has meant that, technically, dancing in public venues is only permissible at specially licensed establishments, and only until midnight. Some lawmakers are currently working to repeal the law in preparation for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics.

If you’re a man that sports a ponytail, avoid Iran. The Iranian government issued a list of appropriate male hairstyles in 2010 that prohibited ponytails, mullets and hair that was too spiky.

In Romania, it was Scrabble that was scrapped in the ’80s by Nicolae Ceausescu because it was “subversive” and “evil.” Luckily, the ban is no longer valid and the country now has a Scrabble Federation and hosts tournaments for players.

In Burundi, jogging&’s out. During a period of ethnic strife in the country that only ended within the last decade, citizens would go jogging together in large groups as a way to let off steam and use one another as protection from dangerous militias. However, in March 2014, the country&’s President, Pierre Nkurunziza, banned these jogs, claiming that they were used as cover for people to plan subversive activities — and, in fact, many opposition members have been jailed for taking part in group jogs.

Lip-synching sucks in Turkmenistan, at least at large cultural events and on television programming. In 2005, then President Saparmurat Niyazov banned lip-synching in order to preserve “true culture”. He had also banned opera and ballet, deeming them “unnecessary”.

In Australia, pornography featuring women with “small” breasts is a no-no apparently because some Australian politicians thought pornography featuring women with breasts considered “small” would encourage paedophilia. The Australian Classification Board started refusing classification of these materials as a way of discouraging them.

And if there&’s a best for last, it&’s dying in the Houses of Parliament. It&’s not sure how you’d be prosecuted in the UK for breaking this law, but dying in these stately portals is technically not allowed because anyone who does so is entitled to a state funeral. And, clearly, the government doesn’t want to deal with many state funerals.