The Gang of Four – American Style! – 17th April, 2016

In Today’s Blog:

IMG_3368In “Mobi-Babble” – “Happy Thai New Year 2556” and a Trip to Dreamworld; “Red Ant eggs for breakfast- Anyone?” and “It’s a dog’s life” – poor Micky!

In my Letter to America – “The  Gang of Four – American Style!” I write about the parlous state of the greatest country in the world, and the worst ever choice of candidates to lead it out of the wilderness. 

In”Notes From a Tainted Paradise”, I write about how Ladyboys find a painful way out of the military Draft; How blindly following a sat-nav onto a footbridge is not good for Thai ‘face’, and a Princely suggestion for dealing with protesting monks.




Happy Thai New Year – BE (Buddhist Era) 2559

1460778188278I’m writing this on 16th April and we are barely half way through the long Songkran holiday. Songkran – the time of year when entire Thai population goes berserk and chucks water at each other for two weeks.

In previous years, I have written much on the ‘abuses’ of the traditional Songkran water festival in modern times – which has turned the one-day tradition of sprinkling scented water onto families and friends into a non-stop, two-week drunken water fight.

This has happened partly in the pursuit of money – and partly because the festival has been hi-jacked by thousands of drunken yobs – including a fair number of westerners – so I won’t bore you by writing at length about it this year.

As ever, Thailand’s road atrocious  accident statistics, second only to Libya in the table of the world’s worst, always spikes upwards during Thai New Year. 2016 is no exception, and after the first four days of the festival, no less than 259 people have died, and there have been 2378 injured. Yesterday alone, 78 people were killed and there were 556 accidents reported.

As I rarely venture out, all the wild, wet and dangerous mayhem has so far passed me by. Last Wednesday, Lek and the kids took off with some family friends who live in Pattaya for a day out. They went to “Dreamworld,” a massive amusement and water park in Pathum Thani, just north of Bangkok.



Click Here to Continue Reading “Mobi-Babble”


The  Gang of Four – American Style!

imagesMy Dear Americans, I truly grieve for you.

The USA is arguably the greatest democracy the world has ever seen, and it is the country where anyone, no matter how poor or underprivileged, can achieve The American Dream.  Through the decades, there have been thousands of people who have pulled themselves out of poverty to become rich and famous in the land of the free.

Who better than Barack Obama himself to exemplify just how far a poor man from an ethnic minority can aspire to in 21st century America?

America also happens to be the richest country in the world. It has the most powerful armed forces in the world, the greatest universities in the world and the greatest scientists. It is a proud nation dedicated to freedom, democracy, human rights, and the elimination of all forms of discrimination, not only in America but throughout the world.

It is also a country that puts a huge value on human life, and believes fervently that all its citizens have the right to live their lives in freedom and without hindrance from their fellow citizens. Their Founding Fathers’ Bill of Rights is one of the most profound, democratic and freedom-espousing documents of all time. It is revered by all freedom-loving citizens the world over.

So what in God’s name has gone wrong?

In America today there are almost 50 million of its citizens on food stamps. Fifty million! That’s more than the population of Spain and more than the populations of Holland, Belgium, Greece, Portugal and Sweden combined.

Click Here to Continue Reading: “The Gang of Four – American Style”


Notes from a Tainted Paradise

Thai BarHow to avoid the Draft

Every Thai man at the age of 21 has to appear before a local military recruitment centre to try their luck. Each eligible young man has to choose a card. If it is black, he is free, if it is red, he has to spend two years in the military.

But many are either deferred (e.g. in the case of university students), or exempted, due to health or ‘other’ reasons.

The largest exempt group are the lady boys. But just in case you think that all a Thai man has to do is to dress up in women’s clothing and he will get an exemption, you should think again. Only those who go through the painful process of sexual realignment surgery will gain exemption – the rest will have to don military khakis and play at soldiers for two years.

Ouch! – Either way.



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Football Lovers of the World Unite! – Disband FIFA!

More than 35 current or former senior FIFA senior officials have been indicted on charges of bribery, wire fraud, racketeering, money laundering, and tax evasion.

The list continues to grow and as yet excludes the disgraced former President Sepp Blatter and suspended EUFA President Michel Platini.

Nobody knows yet the true scale of the vast corruption within the FIFA evil empire, but it is certainly in the hundreds of millions of dollars. We know for a fact about $150 million in the Americas, $10 million in South Africa, several million dollars in bribes from the German Football Federation, and many millions from various national football associations through the years in exchange being awarded World Cup tournaments. 

Click Here to sign The Petition to Disband FIFA




The Darkside Blogger is home at last – and too saucy by half!

8 Months 18 Days, still sober…


Mobi- Babble

Yes, it’s been over a week since I blogged – I do hope I haven’t lost too many readers; its been a hectic few days and I just didn’t get around to it. For the next few months I will endeavour to post two blogs per week. I think that is about right; they will be longer than they used to be, (although lately they have all been getting quite lengthy) as this way I will save quite a lot of time.

The actual writing is in many ways the easy part. It is all the rest of the work; the text editing, the sourcing, sorting and posting pics and generally dealing with the technical side of publishing each blog that seems to take so long. So fewer, but longer blogs will the order of the day.

I will then hopefully  be able to free up some time to get back into my novel, which of course will also be published in my blogs as it progresses.

So where was I?

My last few days in sunny England were somewhat overshadowed by the  brooding presence of my sister, who despite all my mental efforts to the contrary, succeeded in putting me into a bit of a depression and caused me to have a few sleepless nights.

However, Friday and Saturday passed peacefully enough, and on Saturday night we, (my sister, her husband and I), took Sid and Jane out for a farewell meal to thank them for being such wonderful and kind hosts.  So yet again I was slightly lulled into a sense of well-being and tried my best to be polite to her, whenever the occasion demanded.

On the Sunday, many of the family re-traced their steps to Tonbridge and we all had a nice roast dinner together, ably prepared, as ever by the magnificent Jane. The meal was at an end and it was time for me, my sister and brother in law to depart to Heathrow.

We were both leaving that evening, but from different terminals, so it had been arranged that my brother would take me to terminal 3 for my Thai Airways flight to Bangkok and my sister would be taken by one of her sons to terminal 5 for her British Airways flight to Johannesburg.

We all gathered in the front yard, where the cars were parked, to say our farewells. I had said goodbye to everyone except my sister who was nowhere in sight. I told her husband that I was waiting for her to come out so that I could say goodbye and he looked at me in a strange way and said:

 ‘Mobi, I don’t think your sister is coming out…’

I took that to mean she didn’t wish to say goodbye so being somewhat taken aback, I quickly got in Sid’s car and we sped off to Heathrow, with all those feelings of hurt returning to haunt me.

The flight was on time and, as with the trip out, I was well pampered, both in the business lounge, before departure, and on the flight home. I also enjoyed a rare piece of luck, when I found that the window seat next to me was taken by a gorgeous young Thai lady who was travelling all alone!

She was wearing some quite sexy shorts and when she lay back in her seat, the shorts rode up her lovely thighs and she displayed so much delicious creamy-white flesh, that it was all I could do to stop myself from permanently ogling her ‘goodies’. After all, I had seen nothing but fat, ugly farang women for the past month, (Mobi’s daughters excepted).

However, after an excellent dinner, she solved the problem of where to put my eyes by going to the WC and then returned wearing long baggy pyjamas! Oh well, at least I was no longer in danger of being held on a rape charge.

I later surmised, (as I couldn’t sleep a wink, what with my sister’s behaviour and those terrible temptations of the flesh just a few inches away), that she probably brought the pyjamas along for just such an eventuality. If she didn’t have an ageing pervert sitting next to her, she probably wouldn’t have bothered to get changed…

Landing on time, I was whisked through immigration on the Thai Airways ‘Fast Track system’, found my huge bag already on the carousel and I had barely emerged into the arrivals area, when my darling little Noo suddenly appeared along with a pre-booked taxi driver and before I could gather my breath, we were on our way to my beloved Darkside home in East Pattaya.  It was a difficult 90 minutes journey, as she was looking so beautiful and sexy that I could barely keep my hands off her.

One week has passed and I still can’t….

The first two days I was experiencing sleep/jet lag problems; waking in the early hours and having to get up and watch TV so that I didn’t disturb the enticing brown body lying beside me and then sleeping half the day away; but I now seem to be back into my old routine.

Soon after I got back I received an email from Sid, my brother, to the effect that my sister was very upset that I hadn’t said goodbye, so I had presumably misread the situation. This news prompted me to write her a letter, partly to apologise for my misunderstanding, but also to explain to her how upset I had been and what she had done to cause it.

I attached the letter to an email I sent to her husband and he has since confirmed that he received it, printed it off and handed it to his wife to read. I wasn’t sure if he would do this, but he said that he had, and also told me she would be responding in a couple of days. As yet, I have heard nothing.

So to put an end to this little episode in my life in this blog, I will set out below what I wrote to her:

Dear Sister,

I am writing firstly to express my apology for the little misunderstanding that occurred when I left Sid’s house on Sunday to go to the airport.

Despite the upsetting situation between us, I had every intention of saying goodbye to you before my departure, and indeed I rose from the dining table with the plan to offer my farewells to each of the family in turn, before going outside to Sid’s car.

However, as I got up, your husband also stated that you and he would be departing with your son, so everyone started to assemble outside in the front garden so that we could wish each other goodbye.

I assumed that you would also be following us all outside.

I said goodbye to everyone, and told your husband that I was waiting for you to appear so that I could say goodbye to you before leaving for the airport.

He looked at me and said: ‘I don’t think that your sister will be coming out’.

Still feeling pretty upset from what had transpired between us earlier in the week, I immediately took this to mean that you did not wish to say goodbye so decided to get in Sid’s car and head off for the airport without further ado.

Now, after having received a note from Sid to the effect that you were put out that I had not said goodbye, I apologise for my rash action, and my misunderstanding of what your husband was saying to me.

I hope you will understand, especially given the unfortunate exchanges between us that led to this misunderstanding.


I do have to say, even though nearly a week has passed, that I still find it very difficult to understand your behaviour and attitude towards me.

It is very evident that you know little about my life and about what I have been going through over the past few years, but given your own problems with ill health, there is no reason why you should have done.

I have written to your husband from time to time about what was going on in my life and certainly Sid has been kept fully informed in more intimate detail, so I find it difficult to believe that between them they have not appraised you of my situation, albeit it only briefly.

I do recall having a telephone conversation with you some time ago when I told you that I was writing about my life on a blog and you immediately sneered at my project in the most dismissive manner, stating that you had no desire to digging up old stories about our father, as though my father was the only thing that had ever happened in my long, eventful life!

Of course, you have every right to be totally disinterested in my life and my welfare and that is not a problem. I can live with that, even though I can assure you that such feelings have never been reciprocated from this side.

But when  you choose to take me to task and make hurtful, critical remarks to me – time and time again – at our family reunion, then that is quite another. By what right do you have to criticise me or my life? You have shown no interest in me and clearly do not care, and by so doing, you have abrogated any filial rights, if indeed you ever did have any, with regard to my behaviour.

If you had taken any interest in me whatsoever, you would know that I do not: ‘Live in a flat by a river’, (as suggested by you); that I have been a hopeless, desperate alcoholic for many years; that barely 20 months ago I was at a very dark place in my life and completely suicidal and that if it hadn’t been for a wonderful psychotherapist who took me in hand I very much doubt I would be alive today; that it was touch and go if I would come to England at all as I hadn’t had any social interaction for a very long time and I was actually terrified of making the journey and meeting people; that I had made the biggest effort I have ever made in my life to stop drinking from January 1st this year as I was determined to stay sober for Samantha’s wedding and that every day I have to go through my own private hell to stay away from the bottle. I could go on and on… but I think I may have made my point. (I believe there have been a few alcoholic relatives in your own life, so I would have thought you might have had some appreciation and understanding of the sickness.)

As it turned out, Sid, Jane, Samantha , Natalie , my friends from Barnwell, and my long lost friends up in Northumberland were so wonderful and kind to me that it that all my fears vanished and my UK trip became very a happy occasion. Happy, that is until you started to have a ‘go’ at me, accusing me of being antisocial and all that other crap you were throwing at me.

Even if it were true, I feel very strongly that you had no right to make any comment, but given that I actually was doing nothing wrong, it simply serves to compound how you behaved towards me.

You accused me of texting continuously for two days, whereas in point of fact I had not sent a single text since I had been in Tonbridge. I was simply browsing the news headlines, in the same way that you read a newspaper and your husband reads a magazine or a book. I was still joining in the conversation and was in no way behaving any more antisocial than others reading newspapers or magazines.

 You admitted that you know nothing about computers and have never used one so what gives you the right to criticise someone who does, and to say things like; ‘so without a computer, you have no life?’ in such a mocking, patronising and disparaging tone?

And on the subject of using smart phones and computers in public, let us just look at the evidence. When I stayed with Samantha and Rod, they both continuously used their phones/computers when we sat down in the evening to watch TV and chat. Ditto at Natalie’s house – both used their ‘machines’ while chatting and watching TV. Then to Tonbridge, last Sunday. If you had come into the sitting room when we were all sitting there you would have seen no less than six people all busy on their smart phones while joining in the general chit chat.

You may not like it, and that is your choice, but to single me out for your withering criticism is completely out of line, when all I am doing is joining the technological age with the rest of the world. I wonder – if I wasn’t your brother – would you have dared to say anything?

You will have probably gathered by now that I feel extremely upset by your behaviour. Quite frankly, you completely ruined the last week of my holiday – I even offered to leave Sid’s home after our last ‘spat’ but he and Jane would have none of it.  I have barely had a decent night’s sleep since, as I simply cannot understand why someone, who I always held with the utmost affection, should choose to attack a vulnerable member of her own family in such a way. I feel deeply hurt and it will take a long time for me to get over it.

But I cannot change what has happened, no more than I can change my family, so I will revisit the advice given to me by another therapist a few years ago and try to put it behind me, in much the same way that I am now completely free of, and never dwell on, my dead father’s influence.

I have never wished you any ill and as I have learned in recent years: if you have nothing good to say about someone then it is better to say nothing. So I will try to let it go and wish you well in your life; you have much to be proud of in your life, with your wonderful, caring husband and your fine, two sons and their lovely wives.  So I will try to ensure that this ‘black sheep’ keeps clear of your path for the foreseeable future. That way, there will be no future incidents of a similar nature occurring between us.

So a belated farewell,

Take care



That is that. I will put it all behind me and get on with my life, and if she chooses not to respond then that is fine by me – in fact, a nice silence from the Dark Continent will probably be better than her taking further issue with me.

I have had a lazy, indolent week; quite a lot of sleeping, sitting around, watching TV and a great deal of ‘how’s your father’.  

Noo, Cookie and I have resumed our evening walks and I am pleased to report that I am now able to take a much longer walk around the lake, which currently lasts about 40 minutes. Someone – I know not who – has created a wide track in the grass and undergrowth  just off the road, next to the lake and it seems to run right around the Lake northwards towards Pong village. 

I am guessing that it has been done for off-road motorbikes, but it also makes a wonderful path to ramble along without any fears of being knocked for six by a wayward passing vehicle. Or indeed being stung by snakes and insects that may lurk in the bushes, weeds and gorse. As the sun sets, the temperature drops and it really is a very pleasant form of gentle exercise, especially now, as I am starting to get a bit fitter. As for Cookie – well she is definitely losing some weight – she looks a lot trimmer.

I also admit to having a little wayward ‘stray’ to a new bar that has recently opened up just at the western perimeter of the Darkside. It guess my sojourn back in England had affected my judgement, as the place seemed to be full of the most delicious looking tarts I have seen in many a month. I confess to having a number of tasters – mmm very sweet and sour – before I started to feel rather guilty and returned to my darling Noo, who was waiting at home so patiently, and looking so delectable.

What a poor, weak fool I am…

And now for something completely silly…..

Along with booze and sex, I confess to being a lifetime brown sauce addict.

Now I‘m not talking here about A1 Sauce or Daddy’s Sauce or any of the multitudinous varieties of American –type Barbecue sauces that also have a similar colour.

No, I am talking here about the most esteemed and revered of sauce products ever to be invented by the human brain– the one and only HP Sauce, so called because the inventor, one Frederick Gibson Garton, a grocer from Nottingham, heard that his sauce was being served in the Houses of Parliament. He registered the name in 1895 and sold the recipe and brand for 150 pounds to settle some unpaid bills. The new owner, Edwin Samson Moore, launched HP sauce in 1903.

Unfortunately, horror upon horror, and to us Brit’s consummate shame, the brand eventually ended up in the hands of a French multi-food conglomerate, Danone, but mercifully, at least it was continued to be made at the HP factory in Aston.

Then in 2006 an even a greater horror occurred. The mighty American Heinz conglomerate bought the brand from Danone, promising faithfully to keep the Aston factory open. But as everyone knows, nobody is more duplicitous and deceitful than corporate America, so within months they had closed the factory and switched production to Holland.

I have to say that this really isn’t cricket – a British sauce with over century of tradition, with the famous picture of the Houses of Parliament on its label, is now being made by Johnny foreigner. (And let’s not forget that the Dutch have already registered a famous win in that same game of cricket on the field of play. How many times do they have to rub it in??)

I must have first tasted this wonderful brown concoction at a very young age, as for as long as I can remember, I have always been reduced to a state of apoplexy whenever I have been unable to locate and put this incredible concoction onto my traditional British food.

In particular: fish and chips, sausages and mash, sausage sandwiches, bacon, fried eggs, and even cottage pie are almost inedible if they are not generously garnished with the legendary British HP Sauce.

I use HP sauce sparingly these days, partly because it is so effing expensive in the Land of Smiles, but also because I don’t often eat the above mentioned traditional British dishes; but when I do, I always make sure there is a liberal dose of the world’s finest sauce on my plate to whet my whistle and help the vittles on their way down my gullet.

So on my recent trip to the old country I acted on a whim and decided to buy a couple of giant plastic bottles of the magic stuff and bring them back to Thailand with me. I reckon they will last me at least a year – possible two.

But can you imagine my dismay when I read in the news the other day and discovered – to my horror – (yes this time it is real horror – not faked horror), that the owners have been tinkering with the recipe.


Yes, it’s true I’m afraid, to all you HP lovers out there. The fucking Yanks at Heinz have decided that the celebrated concoction that includes tomatoes, malt vinegar, molasses, dates, tamarind and secret spices isn’t healthy and have altered the recipe in response to join the Coalition Government’s effing ‘Responsibility Deal’, a programme of targets for reducing the level of fats and salts used by food manufacturers.

Now let’s get this straight. We have all lived with the nanny state for decades; it has been difficult enough to comply with their laws to curb smoking, wear safety hats on building sites, and fasten seat belts in cars and countless other infringements on our individual liberties as human beings.

I could even go along with castrating rapists, and sterilising under-age, promiscuous, feral teenage girls, but tinkering with the recipe of HP Sauce is a crime EVEN more grievous than… than…than… banning the X-Factor!

This, ladies and gentlemen is truly the end of the British Empire. From here on in, we Brits are in terminal decline and within no time at all we will have virtually no influence in world affairs along with such minnows as San Marino –actually, probably even less than San Marino when it comes to matters of football.

I can do no better than to finish my tirade with a little anecdote about a certain British gentleman by the name of Marco Pierre White, a celebrated 3 star Michelin Chef.  (Yes he is British, despite appearances to the contrary; well, he would never have received his 3 stars without a furrin-sounding moniker!)

He said recently that he sent back a meal of sausages and mash at Piers Morgan’s Kensington pub, The Hansom Cab, last week.

‘I sent the meal back, because I thought it was off,’ he said. ‘At first, I thought it was the sausages, but it wasn’t. It was the HP, which tasted disgusting. It was definitely dodgy. I had no idea they had changed the recipe.

‘I was brought up on HP Sauce in Yorkshire. My old man used to say ketchup was for Southerners and HP was for Northerners. My father would turn in his grave if he discovered they changed the recipe.’

So from now on I will have to cry into my bangers and mash and in the near future I am planning to hold a ceremonial incineration of my two giant plastic bottles of recipe-adulterated HP sauce – vintage 2011.

I wonder if Wat Pong crematorium will oblige?

BUTT…BUTT… BUTT… I don’t give a hoot!

It’s a walk on the Darkside, then ‘Au Revoir’ for a while.

Continue reading “It’s a walk on the Darkside, then ‘Au Revoir’ for a while.”

Some Mobi-reflections on the ‘Land of Smiles’.

6 months, 29 Days, still sober


No more naughty trips to see horny whores in bars since my last blog, so I think I am really starting to get this addiction in hand. Like all addictions, the longer I keep away from it, the easier it gets. I will try to behave myself until I go to the UK in 2 weeks, and then maybe a month of total abstinence, (both booze and sexy young women), will either kill me or cure me!! I have loads of little projects do before I get on the plane, so that will also help.

They say its better late than never, and after promising myself for months that I will try to do something about my fitness levels and my weight gain, I have finally started doing a daily walk.  To be frank, I have no allusions that I will lose even one gram of weight before my trip to the UK, but my overall fitness has become increasingly troubling.

Since I moved Noo in with me last November I have become totally inactive – a total ‘couch (or should I say) ‘computer chair’) potato’. She never lets me lift a finger to do anything for myself, and I confess that I have allowed her to pander to my lazy instincts.

Day after day, I rarely walk further than from one end of the house to the other, or to the car or around a store in Pattaya or to a bar on the Darkside. Even shopping in places such as Tesco will sometimes leave me breathless with that tell-tale tightening of my chest. I know that when I go to the UK I will have to walk a lot more than I have been doing in Thailand and I am worried that I simply won’t be up to it. So it may not be much, but hopefully even two weeks of daily walks will at make some inroads into my state of fitness. Once in England I can continue the daily exercise, which of course will be much easier to do in the cooler weather.

The second reason that I have forced myself into action is because of my golden Retriever, Cookie. She has put on an enormous amount of weight and has become every bit as lazy and lethargic as her master. She has been on a reduced food, high calcium diet for quite a while now to help with the rheumatism in her front legs as well as to get her weight down. But again like me, it doesn’t seem to have had much effect on her weight and the only solution is daily exercise.

I would never forgive myself if Cookie died before her time, due to being overweight, so the two of us have been puffing and panting around the lake for the past three evenings in a 20 minute walk. As our fitness levels increase, I plan to slowly extend our walk time. The calcium diet seems to have done the trick on Cookie’s front leg joints and she no longer ‘favours’ them, but just a 20 minute gentle walk is enough to leave her at the point of collapse when she gets back home. She slumps down on the front porch without even enough energy to walk to the side of the house to get herself a drink of water, even though she is obviously parched with thirst.

What a disgusting pair! Let’s hope we are both in slightly better shape by the time I get on that plane.

I’ve just received notice of a huge increase in my annual health insurance premium. I was paying around 65,000 Baht per year, (which included a USD500 deductible), but as I have now moved into a higher age bracket (65-70), the premium has almost doubled to over 130K Baht.

I am not covered for pre-existing medical conditions which means that anything connected with my diabetes or coronary conditions are excluded, so at best, the coverage is only of marginal benefit. Sure, it covers me for major accidents and cancer, but not much else.

As an alternative, I am thinking of topping up the medical cover on my auto accident hospitalisation, which is currently at 500,000, and maybe taking out some additional general personal accident insurance to cover me if I am knocked down, mugged or suffer some other misadventure requiring medical treatment and leave it at that. There is no history of cancer in my family so I will probably escape that menace, but if I do contract it, then if it is operable, I will probably go back to the UK and take my chances – which is something I would most likely do even if I did have medical insurance.

Ah!  The never ending problems of growing old……

Some Mobi-reflections on the ‘Land of Smiles’.

I am one of those ‘optimists’ who truly believe that Thailand is slowly being transformed from a third world to a first world country. The signs are everywhere, and no matter where you go in this land you cannot fail to notice the relative affluence and the burgeoning middle classes that simply did not exist 10 – 20 years ago. In fact, I challenge anyone to find a village or an area of the country where the majority of the local populace are desperately poor.

Sure, you will always find malnourished and desperate people in slums, be it Pattaya , Bangkok, some far flung village in Issan or the war ravaged south – but is that any different to most western countries? Go to some parts of the USA, the so-called ‘greatest nation on earth’ and you will see similar signs of poverty, and don’t forget, that unlike most western countries, it costs very little to survive in Thailand.

The hot, all year round climate means you need very little in the way of clothes or even a roof above your head, and the country is just teeming with fruit and other produce which can provide sustenance for those who are at the bottom of the pile.

Try travelling to Issan: to Korat ,(what a massive city!), Khon Kaen,  Roi Et,  Maha Sarakham,  Udon Thani,  Nong Khai, Loei, Yasothin, Ubon Thani; or further north to Chaing Rai, or southwards to Petchabun , or Nakhon Sawan or eastwards towards Prachin Buri and Sa Keo. When you go to these provinces, don’t just stick to the provincial city centres,  drive out to the villages situated off the beaten tracks and look for signs of poverty, as I have done, over the past few years.

In the main, you will find fertile fields, and villages full of well-dressed young people with shiny new motor bikes, pick-up trucks and even a surprising number of saloon cars. You will find that a vast majority of roads are in remarkably good condition and you will find villages where the sois are clean and have been beautified with trees and plants, where homes with  little gardens that have been walled or fenced off, and where lawns have been sown, flowers and plants grown and pet dogs kept clean and loved. You will see satellite TV’s, and air-conditioning in many of the houses. A far cry from barely 10 – 15  years ago when many villages were still dirt poor and the people were still struggling to fill their bellies.

All this is a sure sign that the general population is no longer purely concerned with their daily fight for existence, but has now moved to the next stage, which is the acquisition of luxury possessions and the spare time to indulge themselves.

Hundreds of thousands of local markets, the length and breadth  of the land, day and night, are packed with customers; every  provincial town centre has  at least one hyper store;  aTesco-Lotus, or a Big C etc which are so packed that you often cannot get into the car parks. Then there are the western style ‘home produce’, hardware, Macro and Furniture stores, most of them enormous cavernous buildings, all packed at weekends with the middle classes loading up their pick-ups and ordering stuff to be delivered to their homes.

I have yet to  mention the incredible and inexorable  advance of the  7-11’s and Family Mart mini-stores which now seem to occupy the streets and lanes  of every city, town , road junction and gas station, the length and breadth of Thailand. And did you ever hear of a single one that went out of business?

As dusk falls, drive along the main and minor roads that link the towns and villages of this fair land and you will see the people at play – in the restaurants, night clubs, karaoke bars and massage houses. I challenge you to drive more than ten minutes along any major road in Thailand and not come across at least one major Thai restaurant, full of happy revellers.

I well recall driving through the outskirts of muang Roi Et last year and noticing the dozens upon dozens of pretty looking cottages nestling neatly in rows on the nearby hillside. The new development seemed to spread out for several kilometres. I enquired as to who might live at such places. I should have guessed what the reply would be. It transpired that nobody lived there; they were all rooms available for rent to facilitate the  great and good alpha males of Roi Et for entertaining their mistresses and ladies of the night. They were , in effect, ‘short time villages’. A sure indication, if one was needed, of the increasing affluence of the local populace.

Note that nowhere in the above have I mentioned Bangkok, Pattaya or Chiang Mai.

Bangkok is surely one of the world’s great mega cities and the infrastructure in that incredible metropolis is on a par with many of its western counterparts.The Sky scrapers are truly mind boggling; the Sky Train and the underground train system are state of the art; the complex, multi-layered network of 6-8 lane express-ways with their seemingly never ending expansion, together with on-going master plans for a sophisticated public bus commuter system, all point to the fact that the City of Angels never rests and the City Fathers are forever in expansionist/improvement mode. The vast number of 5 star hotels, international restaurants, futuristic 21st century shopping malls, cinema complexes and other modern shrines to the leisure seeking public, are all testament to the fact that this is not a city which is stuck in the ‘third world’.

Power cuts are virtually and thing of the past, flooding is largely under control, probably to a greater extent than some western cities, cheap mobile phone networks are plentiful, internet speeds are becoming as sophisticated as in the west and there is no doubt that technical innovation in this city is as advanced as any in the world.

Even my own ‘beloved, ‘Sin City’ is rapidly cleaning up its act and moving into the 21st century. I wrote about Pattaya a week or so back, so I don’t wish to repeat myself, (see my blog of 16th July;, but I will just add that the Pattaya today is not the Pattaya I knew even 10 years ago – let alone 20 or 30 years ago and the authorities have stated over and over again that their long term plan is to get rid of Pattaya’s seedy image and turn it into a truly respectable world class resort.

Despite the claims by many farang residents, that it will never happen, I personally believe that it surely will and that Pattaya will slowly be transformed for the ‘better’ over the next 10 years. It already has moved so much, but few of the farang residents, supping their bottles of Chang on a bench outside their local ‘seven’, don’t realise what is going on under their very noses.

Currently, in spite of all Thailand’s recent problems and political instability, its economy continues to go from strength to strength and it continues to  boast a massive trade surplus.  It is still the largest producer of pick-up trucks in the world, many of which are exported; its agricultural exports are increasing despite the appreciation of the Thai Baht.

And if you ever doubt the Japanese, Korean and even the European and American commitment to industry in Thailand, I suggest one day that you take a drive through many of the dozens of massive industrial areas on the Eastern Seaboard; somewhere like Amata City for example. Amata city claims to be the ‘Detroit of the East’ which is a pretty lofty claim and one that I used to laugh at – until I went there. It has to be seen to be believed: hundreds of kilometres of six lane highways, built in the middle of virgin countryside, bordered on each side by literally hundreds, if not thousands of factories and industrial complexes.

The workers live there in specially constructed housing complexes, and whole communities have sprung up to service the insatiable demand for labour. And Amata City is just one of many.

I haven’t even been to view the industrial complexes in Rayong but I know they have huge car assembly plants plus all those chemical plants that have been causing a few pollution problems.

All this tells me that if Thailand hasn’t yet made the cross-over from being a developing to a developed nation, then it isn’t too far off. Sure, we can point to things like endemic corruption, but as I mentioned the other day, Thailand is by no means the only country in the region to suffer from this and it is unlikely that it will ever be totally extinguished as it is so much part of the culture.

Unfortunately, on the minus side, Thailand is still rife with nepotism, crony-ism, a corrupt and moribund education system where 99% of the students come out of the system with little or no knowledge of English – or indeed the world around them – and where the qualifications for the kids of the elite are purchased rather than earned.

There is still a reluctance to promote on the basis of merit, rather than on ‘connections’ and the possession of  bullshit qualifications, but there are signs that this is slowly changing. Modern business leaders are learning the hard way that they need to get bright, hardworking people into the key positions if they are going to hold their own in an increasingly competitive world  and  that they can no longer sustain the old inefficient staffing sysytems.

Sometimes it may be difficult to believe, but the democratic, legal and bureaucratic institutions in Thailand are very advanced and sophisticated. Not only are all the relevant rules and regulations in place, but Thailand is signatory to many key international conventions on such subjects as world trade and human rights, all of which signal that Thailand is not far off being a proper, civilised member of the international community.

But in practice, the country’s day to day actions and rhetoric don’t always match its lofty ideals with regard to its judicial system, democratic institutions and internationally agreed obligations. Clearly there is a way to go on this.

We only have to look at thorny subjects such as the abhorrent use of ‘slave’ labour in the Thai fishing fleets and in sweat-shop factories and the widespread exploitation of children  to know that there is an unpleasant ‘underbelly’ to Thai society which is deplorable and has no part in any modern, civilised world. 

I will be writing in detail about some of this soon, but even in these regrettable areas of concern, there is a general acknowledgement that ‘things must change’ – sooner rather than later – if their country is to continue to develop and to be allowed unfettered  trade with the world community.

But for the most part, Thailand has come a very long way, and to those farangs who have lived here many years and think that Thailand never changes and is the same sleepy, undeveloped, ignorant, poor society that they discovered many years ago, then one day they will be in for a rude shock to their system.

BUTT…BUTT… BUTT…I don’t give a hoot….

Foxy Casey – the innocent child killer, is all Foxed out…

6 Months, 18 days – still sober

Mobi – Babble

I have been behaving myself after my little trawl around the girlie bars last Thursday, so there is nothing of a particularly naughty nature to titillate some of my more sensation -seeking readers.

I reported in my last blog that my friend Bob and his young Cambodian girlfriend departed last Friday, but what I omitted to mention in connection with this visit was that my perfect little Noo, at long last showed me that she is ‘human’ after all.  It was a bit of a relief really, as nobody can be as good as she appeared to be, and in a funny sort of way it was a bit worrying.

It happened this way.

After Bob and the young lady had been staying with us for a couple of days, Noo quietly mentioned to me that she thought Bob’s lady was very lazy. Now I am an old hand at listening to Thai ladies, and indeed any lady, criticise and  run down other women behind their backs, so whilst I wasn’t particularly surprised at this particular demonstration of female bitchiness, I was rather surprised, as this time, it was my perfect little Noo who was the culprit.

‘Oh, really? Why do you say that?’ I asked in innocence.

‘She never takes her dirty plates cups and glasses to the kitchen, just leaves them around for me to clear up.’

‘Oh you want her to help with the washing up?’

‘No, I am happy to wash the dishes, but at least she could take the dirty stuff into the kitchen and put it in the sink. Even if she eats in the kitchen she never puts the dirty stuff in the sink, just leaves it all on the kitchen table for me to clear up.’

I must emphasise, that this complaint was in no way a rant. Noo just told me quietly and ‘matter of fact-ly’ that she thought Bob’s young lady was very lazy. The girl had made no effort to help with the cooking, and spent most of her day sleeping, watching TV or listening to music. Indeed, even I had noticed that Bob doted on her as if she was a precious Princess and she did little for herself.

I don’t believe this was some kind of anti-Khmer sentiment that was coming to the surface on Noo’s part, as this was the second visit of the young lady to our home, and Noo has always treated her very kindly and she has taken her with her on her motorbike when she went to the market and other places and they seemed to get on quite well together.

On her last visit, Noo even took the two of them out for a bit of a tourist trip to see the sights of  Pattaya on her bike as the poor,sweet young thing suffers badly from carsickness when she is in my car.

But we live in a reasonably sized, three bed villa and we have no maid. Noo does all the work around the house, all the cooking, cleaning, dish washing and so on, (see above pic☺) as well as a lion’s share of the shopping. Not a huge burden when there is only the two of us, but double that number and it begins to become a bit of a chore.

Before my guests’ arrival, Noo had thoroughly cleaned the spare bedroom and bathroom, provided them with clean bedroom linen, towels etc and ensured the bathroom was properly stocked with toiletries .Yet this young, fit, twenty something year old guest, made virtually no effort to ‘chip in’ and do her bit, even if it was just a token offer. I think Noo felt quite ‘put out’ that the girl didn’t even take her own or her boyfriend’s dirty dishes to the kitchen. She was effectively treating Noo as a maid.

After Noo pointed this out to me, I started to pay more attention to what the girl actually did and realised over the remaining days of their stay that she did indeed do very little to help around the house, and simply assumed that Noo would do everything.

I recalled an occasion a few weeks back when I took Noo to barbeque party at Rick’s house and remember well how enthusiasistically Noo had got stuck in with not only the cooking and serving but also became the self-appointed washer- up in chief.

No wonder she was upset by this behaviour by a guest in her own home, and I know that she was not being bitchy – she was simply pointing out that this was not right. I have been so used to Noo doing literally everything for me, that I confess to being surprised that she was now making it clear that it was one thing to do everything for me, but quite another for her to fetch and carry for my friend’s girlfriend. Quite right too!

I am actually very happy that she told me about this, that she didn’t keep any resentment bottled up inside her and that she is subject to the same human feelings and foibles as the rest of the human race. Good on yer Noo….☺

A good weekend for sport

It was a good weekend for sport and two supposed ‘underdogs’ came out on top.

I watched the last two days of ‘The (British ) Open’ and was absolutely delighted to see the Northern Irishman, Darren Clark, hold off the American challenges of Phil Mickelson, Dustin Johnson and others.

Clarke handled himself impeccably, played a wonderful, utterly confident final round of golf and if his stomach was churning inside, he gave no signs of it. It was a ‘fairy tale’ ending for the 42 year old father of two, who had never previously won a major championship and finally won ‘The Open’ on his record –breaking, 20th attempt.  He has been a stalwart in the Ryder Cup through the years and is everyone’s favourite ‘nearly man’, who evoked huge sympathy a few years back, when he played in the Ryder Cup, within days of his wife’s death from cancer.

I did feel sorry for Big Phil; he is one of golf’s real gentlemen and a man I have always had a soft spot for. For a while, it really looked as though he was going to take the fourth round by storm and steal the prize from Darren’s grasp, after making the half-way point in only 30 shots. But as happens so often with Big Phil, he made one silly little mistake in tapping in an easy put and from then on he sort of imploded and the challenge eventually faded.

But it all made for compulsive viewing. To me, It is one of sport’s enduring enigmas that games like tennis and motor racing, which should be so exiting, are often as boring as hell, yet one of the slowest games in the world – golf – can be so riveting and will often have you on the edge of your seats until the final ball has gone into the final hole.

After a thrilling game of football, Japan beat the Americans in the Women’s World Cup Final, and I doubt that even the Yanks will begrudge the Japanese their historic victory.

The Americans had the better team and should have won. Indeed, they went ahead twice, but in the end, the Japs refused to roll over and they held their nerve to win on penalties. But after all the terrible events and tragedy that have enveloped this country in the past few months, who can begrudge them their little bit of joy, in celebrating their country’s first win at a major world sports event? Well done Japan!

Rent a friend – rent a family

While we are on the subject of Japan, I recently watched two separate items on television which had me scratching my head in bewilderment.

The first item was about a Japanese man who rented himself out as a ‘friend’ to lonely, single, men. This is apparently a quite widespread practise in Tokyo where thousands of men find themselves lonely and friendless and the only interaction they are able to get is with friends who they ‘rent’ for the evening.

The second item was about the common practice of Japanese brides and grooms renting friends and family for their wedding receptions.  One groom admitted that he had even rented ‘fake parents’ for his wedding. When asked why, he informed us that it would be a big ‘shame’ on him if his in-laws knew that he had no parents.

The practise of renting people for wedding is so routine that neither side of the family, (wife/husband), knows who are real friends and who have been paid to attend.

I have always appreciated that countries like Japan have a totally different culture and ways of thinking than those of us in the west, yet although they are so different, you can at least sort of understand what was going on with the Samurai class of bygone ages and the many traditions and customs that still survive in modern Japan. But this business of renting friends and families seems to be a total distortion normal behaviour in even their strange culture and surely it is an ugly, sad transmutation of what was once a proud, if alien heritage.

The mind really boggles……

C(r)asy like a Fox….

First off, I confess that I was as fascinated as any by the events that unfolded in the court room in Miami as the young mother, Casey Anthony, was put on trial for the murder of her two year old daughter. The trial attracted wall to wall coverage on American TV and media and was easily the biggest an event since the OJ Simpson trial, some years ago.

The trial lasted for about three weeks and during this time, the media were all pretty much determined to hang her high for her obviously murderous act. Then the shock of the century; Ms Anthony was found not guilty.

So we were then treated to days and days of analysis on why this verdict was reached, interviewing the prosecutors, the defence team, the jury members, Casey’s friends and ex friends and just about anyone in America who had an opinion on the subject.

For the first day or so, this was OK, as we all wanted to hear what some of the key players in the matter had to say. But eventually ‘enough is enough’. We had heard and seen anything that could possibly had any relevance to the act and the subsequent verdict and why people did what they did why the jury voted the way they voted.

Quite frankly we are all ‘Casey’d out’.

All this was occupying prime time television when there has rarely been a period when there has been more tumultuous events going on in the world; from the never ending acts of terrorism, to the Arab uprising, to the on-going world economic crisis, to the starving and dying in Africa and even to the potential collapse of the massive Murdoch media empire.  

Yet has Fox news started to cut back the air time devoted to the Casey story? Not a bit of it, in fact if today is anything to go by, the story is more prominent than ever. Hour after hour and presenter after presenter; there is little else but stories relating to the release of Anthony from jail, showing over and over again a five second video clip of Anthony being led out of the building by her defence attorney, and never ending speculation on where she has gone, what she will do now, when she will re-surface and how much money will she make for her story and interviews?

Come on Fox News – enough is fucking enough!…


I am republishing my poll here so that those of you who haven’t already voted – especially blind  Rick –  don’t need to trawl though my earlier blogs to find it. I will continue to re-publish  this poll on my blogs for the next week or so.

Please tick a box; thanks☺

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…I don’t give a hoot!

The Darkside Blogger is babbling up a ‘Khao Phanser’ storm; from knicker-less hookers, to bra-less knockers, to Red Goat nutters…

6 Months, 16 Days – Still sober


Happy Khao Phanser, (Buddhist Lent), to all my Thailand based readers,  I trust you are all enjoying a nice, dry rest from your daily labours. Today is the second day of the total alcohol ban throughout the Land of Smiles and I trust it hasn’t put you to too much inconvenience or distress.

Of course for most residents and long-time visitors, the ban makes little difference as they will have ensured they had  adequate stocks of booze at home, and for those who are desperate to go out and drink, there are always a few drinking establishments off the beaten track ,who will surreptitiously sell to you whatever particular poison takes your fancy.

The same goes for 99% of Thais. They will either drink at home or they will seek out the noodle  shops, karaoke bars and restaurants who are happy to break the law after ensuring their protection from the boys in brown by making timely contributions to the BIB’s favourite benevolent funds.

Indeed, I was saddened to read this morning of  a group of young Thais, all under age, some thirty in number, who were illegally drinking at a beach restaurant yesterday on the Trat coast, overlooking Koh Chang, getting pretty legless. A few of them decided to go swimming in the sea in pretty rough conditions.

To cut a long story short, three of them got into trouble in the heavy swell, which resulted in one boy drowning and two others being rescued by a Brit who paddled to their rescue using an inner tube.  Unfortunately one of the boys he rescued died later in hospital. So there were two pointless deaths, after getting drunk on a day when alcohol was supposed to be banned.

A postscript to this story is that on this beach there was a number of local Thais with boats and jet skis, but not a single one made any attempt to rescue the poor kids; this despite the fact that dozens of spectators on the beach were screaming and shouting for something to be done to help the kids in trouble.

I do feel a little sorry for the poor unsuspecting tourists who arrive in Thailand at this time of years for their 2 weeks of fun and booze in the sun and suddenly find themselves being obliged to remain sober, and with nowhere to go to let their hair down and get their rocks off.

I well remember being in a similar situation some ten years ago, when I returned to Bangkok after a spell in England on the first day of Khao Phanser. I was staying in a hotel at the time and as soon as I had checked in, I was off to explore the bars of Sukhumvit Road and find a nice young lady to welcome me back in style after my weeks of enforced abstinence in the home country.

Imagine my shock and dismay when I found the red light areas of Sukhumvit in darkness and not an open bar in sight. I remember walking from  my hotel, near soi Nana, right along Sukhumvit, past Soi Asoke, past Soi Cowboy and all the way to soi 33 without finding a single establishment which would sell me a lousy bottle of beer, let alone a whore who might entertain me.

Reaching Soi 33, which was one of my favourite carousing areas back then, I felt that surely some of the upmarket bars in this ‘farang’ area would be open, but not a bit of it. I had never seen the soi so dark. With all the neon lights turned off, I could hardly find my way along the unusually murky soi. I slowly walked back to the main Sukhumvit highway, a totally dejected and increasingly thirsty figure.

Then I noticed a faint light emanating from the basement of a multi-storey  building which bordered Sukhumvit. It seemed to be coming from The Londoner, a Brit style pub which I rarely frequented as I always felt that I hadn’t come to Thailand to drink in a place which reminded me of home – a place and a country that I was trying to forget!

Anyway, ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ so I investigated further. Sure enough, when I walked down the stairs to see where the light was coming from, I found that the pub was indeed open. The large place was packed to the gunnels with farangs and Thais alike, knocking back the beer as if there was no tomorrow. There was barely room to breathe and it was impossible to force my way to the bar so I found a small empty corner, near the front door and after a few frantic minutes, eventually managed to persuade a waitress to bring me my very first beer since arriving in Bangkok, many hours earlier.

As I slaked my thirst, I looked around and wondered how it could be that  The Londoner could remain open, yet every other bar and pub, and drinking establishment, the length and breadth of Sukhumvit, was shut up tight.  I concluded they must have some pretty influential contacts and was wondering how much it must have cost them. Suddenly, with no warning, the front doors were thrown open  and no less then six uniformed cops entered, took up positions in front of  the door and surveyed the drunken revellers.

‘Here we go,’ I said to myself, ‘Now we’re all in the shit. Maybe I’m going to spend the night in the pokey.’

The cops continued to survey the assembled multitude, while one of their number, presumably the senior officer, left his position by the door and made his way through the crowd, who were paying scant attention to what had just happened. He disappeared into the smoky reaches of the back of the pub and I awaited events with not a little trepidation. 

A few minutes later, he reappeared, said something to his colleagues and suddenly they opened the door and filed out, leaving as quickly as they had arrived, some ten minutes earlier. I’ll leave it to my dear readers to deduce what was afoot, but whatever it was, it was clear that The Londoner, at least, was immune to the law.

I wonder if it still is?

After I had downed a few beers I grew rapidly bored. The Londoner was not my scene and I stood as much chance of finding a friendly hooker in that place as finding cheese on the dark side of the moon. So having filled my desperate body with liquid sustenance, I resolved to continue my search for a likely establishment which would be more to my taste.

I retraced my steps along Sukhumvit, back towards Nana, and as I walked along, wondering where might be the be the most likely area to try, it  came to me from the far reaches of my drunken mind, that I had heard somewhere it was always possible to get a drink in some of the ‘off Sukhumvit’ massage parlours.

And sure enough, after another 30 minutes of  semi-aimless wandering, this time in sois on the other side of Sukhumvit, I found a nice little massage parlour, tucked away in a tiny sub-soi that was not only open, but had plenty of booze and plenty of women! I recall that they had taken advantage of the situation by raising the prices, of  both booze and women, but the exorbitant cost of  my evening out was the last thing on my mind.  Encouraged by my prowess in finally being able to track down suitable sources of booze and hookers, I eventually moved on to other similar establishments, as indeed I continued to do on subsequent dry, nights.

Thus began my drunken adventures back in Thailand, which led me into many disastrous affairs, a disastrous financially ruinous marriage and my eventual move to Pattaya where I have been living for the past six years.

After their 9 days stay with Noo and Mobi, my friend Bob and his young lady finally went on their various ways. I dropped them both back at the airport yesterday, after which  I drove to Pattaya with Noo to have a meal and do a bit of food shopping. It was quite a long journey back from the airport as it seemed as though there was a general exodus from Bangkok for the long holiday weekend. The motorway was extremely busy;  chock-a-block with cars, full of families, bound for Pattaya for a weekend’s enjoyment.

To those who still insist that Thais hate Pattaya, they really should come and see the place on a holiday weekend. The town is absolutely teeming with middle class Thais who have come to enjoy the delights that this exciting city has to offer.

Pattaya has long since been a lot more than just Walking Street and the slightly seedy beer bars that stretch along Beech and second Road. Yes, it is still ‘sin city’ and it is still a whore-monger’s paradise, but it is also many other things.

The city now boasts a number of 5 star hotels, including a brand new Hilton and a Holiday Inn; it has an ever growing number of large shopping malls including a massive new Central Department store; it boasts three state of the art cinema multiplexes; at least half a dozen bowling alleys; two Tesco Lutus’s, three Big C’s, a large Villa Supermarket, a Foodland, several Tops and many more ; literally thousands of reasonably priced restaurants, catering to almost any taste and international cuisine that you can imagine.

I could go on and on – they have water parks, amusement parks and a short drive will bring you to golf courses, a polo park, an equestrian centre, a crocodile farm, an elephant village, huge ornamental garden complexes , Underwater Sea world, go-kart race tracks, bungee jumping, parasailing , wind surfing  and many, many more.

Maybe TAT should sponsor my blog.☺

On Thursday afternoon, I met up with Rick for a quick chat at one of the local cafes, before embarking on a bit of naughty spree, all by myself. Rick had been misbehaving himself all week and was all fucked out; quite unlike chaste, young Mobi who had been spending his days and nights with Noo, Bob and his girlfriend.  Anyway needs must, and I confess to going on a bit of a monger’s trawl through the dens of the Darkside, some old ones, some new ones and some neglected ones, (as Semprini used to say – for those Brits old enough to remember).

It was a bit of a mixed bag. One of my neglected places on Soi Kow Noi, ‘The Ma Muang Bar’,  the place with the nicker-less whores with the bra- less knockers, was the low point of the evening. I arrived to find a number of ladies available, and one immediately latched herself on to me. She wasn’t exactly in the first flush of youth, but she had a lovely, mature body with large, well-shaped breasts, nice fleshy, tight thighs and a lovely, big ass. She was dressed in a short, flimsy – what could only be described as – a nightdress. No bra and knickers, her body was completely ‘available for inspection. This was looking good, but as soon as I invited her to explore what Mobi had to offer, she said sorry, she had to be careful as her boss – a miserable, alcoholic, Flemish farang – was sitting next to us. I couldn’t understand why the reluctance to give me the ‘once over’ seeing as there were no restrictions on what I could do to her, but she insisted that ‘rules were the rules’ and she couldn’t touch me while her boss was there.

What a load of old b…..

Moving on, the high point of the evening was another place on Kow Noi called the  ‘Red Goat’. I had been there once before , several months ago, with Rick and found it to be one of those places full of cheap Charlie regulars, who ‘sit’ on their beers and play darts and rarely, if ever buy any of the ladies a drink. The last time I went there I noticed some quite tasty ladies, but I couldn’t get near to them for some strange reason, and as we were on a bar trawl we decided to cut our losses and move on to more fertile territory.

Anyway, after leaving the knicker-less Ma MuangBar, I drove past the Red Goat and decided to stop to see if the girls were any friendlier than last time.It is indeed a bit of an odd place. They have plenty of customers, middle aged – elderly farangs sitting around supping their beer and playing pool and darts. There were also  a number of ‘middle drawer’ ladies, some of whom were sitting with these men but received  no drinks in return for their ministrations.

It is one of those bar/pubs with very bright lights and as soon as I entered, the cliquey bunch of bald headed, pot -bellied Brits all stopped whatever it was they had been doing and stared at me, their beady eyes following me as I took the long lonely walk to the bar. It felt like I was in something out of the ‘League of Gentlemen’. Leaning on the bar, was a very slim, lovely looking lady in a short black dress, which was full of holes in all the right places. She asked me, ‘what was my pleasure’.  I touched her hand and before I knew what was happening she had leaned back onto me with her bare skin rubbing me; all over my ageing, horny body.

That was my pleasure, but I did the decent thing and ordered a Diet Coke and something for the oh so sexy young lady. This piece of largess resulted in even more close embraces and fondles. I looked around and  soon realised that the assembled  punters were none too pleased with this interloper in their midst who was getting it on with one of the best looking girls in their bar. She was Nong, not a youngster, but new in the hooker business, (at least so she told me…), having been working there a mere 10 days, and was extraordinarily sensual woman. She had a lovely face and was soon begging me to take her to a room out the back, not yet knowing that I didn’t indulge in such reprehensible activities.

After a few more minutes of yet more ‘encounters of a very close kind’, with the League of Gentlemen looking on, I spotted another lovely lady, also dressed in a black mini-dress, rushing around hither and thither. She was a much larger lady but very curvy, with a lovely face and I smiled my friendly smile and couldn’t resist touching her arm as she passed. She was soon back at the bar and before long I had the two of them pawing me. It turned out they were cousins – both ethnic Kymer ladies from Aranyaprathet.

Things went from bad to worse, as both ladies were fighting to get their fingers on a certain protuberance. The League of Gentlemen were clearly outraged and I wondered how much longer it would be before someone strung me up. Then, as if the situation couldn’t degenerate further, yet another lady sidled up to where I was sitting at the bar and insisted on checking out my ammunition. Two members of the League fraternity, who were sitting just along the bar from me, were clearly in danger of having apoplectic seizures, when one of the Kymer ladies succeeded in removing my gun from its holster to proudly show it to her friend.

Deciding that my life might be in danger, I quickly returned the offending object from whence it had come, but not before all three ladies had given it a good stroke for luck (or maybe a stroke of good luck).

Strange ain’t it? The no holds barred, nicker-less establishment has rules prohibiting the handling of  male merchandise, yet a so-called semi-respectable place, has ladies for whom ‘anything seems to goe.’  Maybe they were so desperate and bored, having to look after this bunch of ageing has-beens, night after night with n’ere a drink to show for it. Anyway, before I really did outstay my welcome, I decided to move on to pastures new, promising the 3 ravishing damsels that I would return next week to carry on where we had left off.

I walked the gauntlet, from bar to exit, accompanied by my 3 sexy ladies, protecting my front, back and sides from the hostile natives. I made it safely to my car and drove out into the night for further Khao Phanser-Eve adventures….

Mobi’s Poll

Thank you to those who have voted. I would love to get a few more people to take part. If you missed it, it can be found on my blog of July 14th, or click here:  Mobi’s Poll

BUTT…BUTT…BUTT…I don’t give a hoot!