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Entry 4


khunsanuk

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XXX?s solo manoeuvres

 

It?s come to that time again where I use my PC for purposes other than surfing porn. I?ve just got back from 24 days in the Land of Sanitisation and feel it?s my duty to fill you in on the details.

As an update, at the time of my last trip report I was working in the building industry and trying to get a book published. Since then I?ve ruined my back and spent the 3 months prior to my visit driving a taxi to raise the necessary funds. So if you?re that fat bitch who kept farting on the way back from Morrisson?s to Cheadle and complained to the office that I hadn?t carried your bags inside, you helped pay for what I got up to. Thanks very much, and on the positive side, I?ve managed to learn how to beep the horn and give the wanker sign whilst cornering at 40 mph, whilst drinking a can of Coke and smoking a fag, without spilling any ash or soda or deviating the racing line.

I knew this trip wasn?t going to be the same as last time round as it was a single handed venture rather than a group effort as things had been in the past, all though I did have a few catch ups loosely arranged with deadbeats I?ve got to know over the years.

Anyway it?s been a while since I had much money to my name and I was surprised how lucrative cabbing has turned out to be so in the days prior to take off I treated myself to a few new clothes and big new shiny silvery suitcase. Since Rusty has given up the mantle of being chief degenerate and found himself a GTG, I decided I?d fill his shoes and bought one of them rabbit vibrator dildo jobbies and a big pack of batteries from the pound shop.

On the evening before I departed I settled in at home to watch TV, now I?ll be honest I?m a little bit of a nervous traveller so the three programmes that were on TV did little to ease my anxiety. The first option was a documentary about the Titanic sinking, the second was an extended news program about rebels in Chechnya or somewhere shooting planes out of the sky and the final option was a dramatisation of the 9/11 disaster. I was sure it wasn?t paranoia, but I got the definite feeling that something wasn?t quite right.

The flight (TG 911 yes too much of a coincidence) was pretty uneventful, especially as I?d had a couple of sleeping pills and it wasn?t too long before I was in the queue for a taxi to BKK. When I got in the cab I smiled at the driver, made a few polite exchanges with him and proudly announced, ?I taxi farang same same you.?

The driver did his best to look impressed and we conversed about what wankers drunk passengers can be, the cost of fuel, the price of renting a cab, what tits other road users can be and how there are too many other cabs on the road.

When we got to the Nana Tai Mansion I tipped him well, shook his hand and went to check in happy that I?d connected with one of my brethren, a fellow knight of the road a soldier of the traffic.

While I did that the driver scratched his bollocks, lit a fag, called me a tosser under his breath and drove off in search of the next fare.

I remember when I got the flight itinerary from the travel agent I looked at the arrival time in Bangkok and wondered where the fuck I?d get a shag at 6:45 on a Friday morning even in Thailand.

By the time I?d had a bit of a lie down and a shower it was about 8:45 am, having slept on the plane I wasn?t going to get any shuteye, so I ventured out to see if I could find a companion. At that time Golden Beer Bar was the only place that seemed to have any human life forms on board (a fat bloke with his head on the table who looked like he was pissing his shorts and some ugly bird filling the fridge), so I sat and had a soda water. There were three really ugly bargirls loitering outside the exchange booth by the Plaza, and although I did my best to ignore them it wasn?t long before the most weather beaten of the trio spotted me and decided to befriend me.

She came and stood in front of me and offered her hand for me to shake and made salacious comments in a hope of awakening the monster within, but to her disdain I didn?t take the bait. I?ll give her her dues though she wasn?t easily deterred and after 20 minutes or so I was starting to pray for a bloke with folder full of cigarette lighters to come and stand between me and her. There?s never a fucking vendor around when you need one is there.

As time progressed she did actually fuck off to the other side of the road, her departure was precipitated by obvious friends of hers dashing gleefully out of the Nana Hotel and showing off the camera, mobile phone or electronic toothbrush they?d managed to purloin from the incumbents of the worlds number one Hotel for the Hapless.

I was just about to give up the ghost and go and look for an underwear catalogue I could put to good use when I heard the sound of stools hitting the floor and saw the lights flickering in that Morning Afternoon gaff (or is it ?Am Pm?).

Anyway I sauntered over, a girl came and sat next to me and things started to look up. After a couple of games of pool, a bit of chasing and a bit of puk whan I got a really pretty girl to come and look at my etchings. Now as we?re all men of the world (except for Jasmine) you?ll know what it?s like when you get a really dirty tart in your room. This one was absolutely filthy. She was so dirty she spent 45 minutes in the shower getting clean before we had sex. I?ll be honest when it?s been a while you?ll go for nearly any port in a storm but she was actually quite good. Happily took the rabbit, kissed and banged enthusiastically and had no objection to me probing the council gritter.

Around 1pm clothes were donned cash was handed over and we left the hotel together. I was glad my first objective had been achieved and went on to my next task of the day, a meet with Bangkok?s famous acronym and demiwit the VI. The actual meeting point is lost in the mists of time, but we spent a while fannying about looking for bars he had whiskey in and eventually ended up in Bamboo, where he told me about the joys of his lifestyle in Thailand, how his Mrs spends all their cash playing cards and how he can?t go back to England.

VI always reminds you of how he earned his nickname within a short time of you meeting him and this occasion was no different. We left Bamboo and he insisted I follow him into a tuk tuk. We sat in it for about 10 seconds waiting for the lights to change.

?Fucking hell we?ll never get there,? he moaned and gestured that I hop out so he did and I followed him.

I was just giving the driver 20 baht for his trouble when the lights changed and the traffic started moving, ?Oh no back in,? said VI.

I obeyed and his next comment was, ?I?ve forgotten where we?re going. It?s this bar but I don?t know where it is.?

Anyway we alighted from the trishaw somewhere past Soi 7 and VI haphazardly guided us to a really shit bar, while the driver scratched his nuts, lit a fag, rightfully called us cunts under his breath and drove on in search of his next fare.

The bar was so shit the sewer rats were stood outside saying, ?We?ll come back when you?ve cleaned up a bit.?

We sat down at VI?s insistence and the three ugliest bar girls in Krung Thep (even uglier than the dog ends outside the Plaza) descended on us. Drinks arrived before they were ordered and I got the urge to run. For a while I sat downwind of VI?s whiskey breath until, after two sips of my beer I decided it was best to move along and paid for the drinks. I explained to VI that I was off down Gullibles and to catch me up.

Much as people mock VI he isn?t actually that bad a bloke, he?s incredibly stupid but does nobody any harm but himself. When you meet him with a group of friends it?s not too bad because you can dilute him but sitting alone with him can be a bit too much like hard work.

When he eventually caught up with me on Soi5 he complained that the bar was ?a bit posh? for his liking and to his credit could see that I was probably best being left alone and he tottered off after a polite goodbye, smiled and wished me the best of luck.

Once he?d gone I had a bit of a fanny around, possibly a short time (although I might not have as my memory evades me a lot of the time) and went off to a rendez vous that had been planned for a while.

A mate of mine who I?ve known since the age of four flew into Bangkok on business that night and we?d planned to hit the town. Since he?s settled down with a bird and mortgage I must insist for the sake of the record that he did not indulge in any licentious activities and anything I say to the contrary is poetic license (honest) used by myself to make an otherwise lukewarm trip report sound interesting. Since he looked and didn?t touch and I wish to protect his anonymity (the fact that the company he owns has a very good lawyer is incidental) I?ll call him the Wigan Observer (which also happens to be the name of the newspaper in the town we grew up in).

He was staying in the Sheraton near Soi 12 and when I phoned him he said he?d meet me in the bar. Over the years I?ve sort of got used to the range of hotels that sits comfortably above a Khao Sarn Guest House and below a sick pets sanctuary, so when I walked in the Sheraton and waied the doorman I didn?t actually feel like I?d committed a faux pas.

We sat and had a few in the bar chewed the fat and caught up then headed down 33.

The first bit of upholstery we remoulded was in Salvador Dali?s where WO was suitably impressed with the quality of the staff, followed by Monet once happy hour had finished and it was his round then we headed off to Tilac.

I know some people don?t like Tilac, and for old hands it can be a bit touristy, but even if I don?t find a bird I like in there it?s always a bit of a party.

Jet lag played a bit part in our condition but the amount of alcohol we appropriated and first night exuberance made for a good night. We spent the night looking at bird?s arses and comparing them to old schoolteachers of ours. One of the better lagged g stringed posteriors, which was being shaken vigorously to the Ketchup Song was said by my mate to be not dissimilar to ?Two bloodhounds having a scrap?.

As witching hour approached I paid bar for a blonde piece and as we left, reciting the alphabet forwards even half way would have been a task for us by that time, let alone backwards.

Anyway we stumbled off and sat at a table bar on the main road somewhere, the precise location of which remains a mystery and sat talking shite. Now although I?m called SiLeakHunt, I?m not actually that daft and have decided to regulate my drinking a bit. I?ve told myself that when I piss myself before making it to the toilet it?s time to go home, in the past that would have marked the halfway point in the night. Just after the final whistle blew that night, in lieu of the Christmas presents I never bought him and the Action Man Knapsack I nicked off him in 1978 I made a generous gift of the bird I?d barfined to the Wigan Observer and headed off home shitfaced.

I?m not sure if I grabbed summat off the parking lot that night, there may have been someone with me when I woke, there may not have been I?m not sure, what I do know is that sometime around midday I took a short time from a downstairs bar in the Plaza and went off to meet Kipster for some dinner/lunch shortly after. Not long after sitting down with him I had to stop myself falling face first asleep into my soup, not as is normally the case because of his conversation, but the jet lag. I headed off home with promises of a night out round the corner.

After a nap it was time to go and meet the Wigan Observer again, he?d moved hotels, this time to The Conran on Wireless Rd and I met him in another gaff where waiing the maid didn?t seem that stupid a thing to do. On my arrival he?d already been joined by a friend of ours called Rice Picker, who like WO is settled with a steady girlfriend and did not, I repeat not, have any form of contact with a female during our night out other than to get a pack of Minto?s from the Seven Eleven (if your Mrs reads this RP that should be enough to convince her). The bar in the Conran was swish to say the least and our tales and jokes had to be conveyed in hushed tones for fear of upsetting the other guests.

After an hour of that we headed to Soi 23 and ate pastie, chips and gravy in what I assume is Bangkok?s only truly greasy fish and chip shop. There was a bit of a tour of Cowboy and that night I was on the G&T?s to keep the mozzies off. After a few uneventful go go?s I guided my monogamous friends into Toy Bar, where I made the girls giggle by pretending (as usual) that my name was Nai Khanom Dtom and that I lived in Chiang Mai. I could see in the mirror that my two friends had been joined by ladies, and after a while heard in Rice Picker?s unmistakeable Cardiff accent, ?Tong Bpai, Tong Bpai?.

I turned to see what the commotion was and (you understand the next bit is just lies for dramatic effect) saw that my two inscrutable friends were being given vigorous pocket wanks by ladies of the night.

RP had to get a bus to Rayong after that and myself and WO headed down the Plaza. We did a few bars and ended up being herded into one on the ground floor on the left hand side. It wasn?t until half way through our drinks that we noticed that we were perched against a stage that was made of a reflective surface and that when we looked down we could see up the skirts of the dancers who were, how can I put it short of underwear.

The conversation went something like this.

Me, ?Fuck me look at that.?

WO, ?You?ve just noticed.?

I moved my cigarette packet to a more convenient location.

WO, ?Shift your fags out of the way. Your breath?s steaming up the surface.?

Me, ?I should have put my contact lenses in.?

Before it got too late I took the Wigan Observer into the Nana Disco and we sat talking shite.

Come closing time I realised that talking to your mate doesn?t get you a shag and headed out with promises that we?d do it again and have a beer when we got home. As I made my way on to the auction lot, I spotted what us Northerners would refer to as a ?reet darlin? and approached her to negotiate a temporary lease.

The bargaining went something like this.

Me, ?Long time for you ??

Reet darlin ?2000 baht.?

Me, ?Fuck that.?

Reet darling, ?2000 for me you fuck my friend also 1000. Do lesbia good for you.?

Never one to bite at the opening gambit I continued the transaction, ?1500 for you short time your friend 1000 long time also.?

I?d already spotted her mate and knew that she wasn?t bad either.

Reet Darlin, ?You can fuck me good. I want man have power you go pharmacie.?

Me, ?No problem have power,? I lied then muttered to myself, ?If no have power have dildo.?

Fast forward twenty minutes and I was sat fully clothed on the end of my bed smoking a fag while I watched two naked lesbians getting the most out of each other and my recently purchased rotating rabbit. I was debating when to join in, but couldn?t really bring myself to spoil the picture of serenity in front of me. If I joined in it would have been like chucking a stone into a still pond, or stubbing your fag out in the sand with the Bangkok Airways logo in it at the airport. Anyway the decision was made for me when the better looking one said, ?You fuck me now or I go.?

Sometime later I learned that changing the batteries in a dildo without removing your penis from inside a lady after 22 G&T?s isn?t the easiest task to complete. I also found that the half the fucking batteries in my bargain pound shop pack were duds.

The sun had come up when I paid them and went to sleep, and when I woke at 1pm with a sore nob, in a bed full of batteries with shit under my thumbnail, I concluded that it must have been a good night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day I flew to Samui, and was pleased to note when I arrived that the authorities at Samui Airport have boldly invested in leading edge technology and have acquired an advanced logistics system that will make them the envy of the worlds transit nodes. They?ve installed a conveyer belt.

I did a bit of haggling with a skinny fellow, with unkempt hair and bulbous red eyes. He agreed to take me and some Indian bloke to Lamai and we set off in the tired looking sedan he called a taxi.

We headed off, and after the hustle and bustle of Bangkok it borders on the magical to look up as you drive along narrow roads and see the stars glistening through the palm leaves. We hadn?t got that far when I noticed a really low sort of reverberating hum. It wasn?t a noise, more a vibration. It was the sort of noise that would move ornaments along your mantelpiece. At first I thought the back axel of the car was fucked, then noticed that the vibrations were vaguely in time with the Bob Marley remixes he was playing on the stereo.

The winding minor roads turned into pissed wet major ones the driver speeded up and as he approached the land speed record I thanked Buddha that I didn?t have a pacemaker fitted. If the resonance of his stereo hadn?t interfered with it his fucking driving would have given me an angina attack.

We pulled up at the Lamai Inn and I got out thankful to be alive and that his music had cleared the mucus off my chest. The reception area was closed and he pointed saying, ?Is finit.?

?No problem. I have booking they come soon,? I lied.

There was no way I was getting back in the cab with the kamikaze cunt, I scratched my bollocks, lit a fag, called him a tosser under my breath and waited for the next baht bus to come along.

After not too much huffing and puffing I managed to get myself ensconced into The Golden Sands resort and I set about preparing for a night on the piss.

I mentioned earlier that the night before I set off things hadn?t seemed right. By this point things had started to take an even stranger twist. Ask anyone in the Police or intelligence services, there are two types of surveillance, covert and overt. Covert surveillance is where they follow you from a distance and try not to get spotted, the overt type is when the coppers sit outside your gaff in a marked car and when you walk out say, ?Now then, now then Mr LeakHunt, you wouldn?t be going selling crack cocaine outside the local primary school like you normally do then would you ??

Don?t ask me too much about my nefarious past, but I know when I?m being followed. There?s also a third type of surveillance, I think it?s called semi covert, where they follow you on the quiet, then let you know with a subtle hint that you?re being followed. They do it to scare you or try and panic you into making mistakes. Since the night before I left I felt like I was being watched and the hint to try and frighten me that they used was to shove gravel up my arse.

It was so painful I could hardly walk, I think it was the KGB that invented this special surveillance arse gravel. When inserted in the ringpiece it almost incapacitates you, then when you get in the shower and stick your hand up you can?t find it, then two minutes after dressing it appears up your arse again and makes life torture until you phone up the nearest KGB office and tell them where the treasure?s buried without them even asking.

Undeterred I headed out on the piss.

Last time I?d been in Lamai, I?d made a couple of mates who drunk in the Halifax Bar, so headed there. It was dead and one of the girls said that the owner was in a bar round the corner called Eden which he owned so I headed down there and got chatting with him and some of his mates.

For those of you who don?t know Lamai there?s a little bit of a clique of English guys who stay there semi permanently, and if you turn up there and the people you know aren?t there, the people that are present are their mates, so it makes for an unlonely time if you?ve been there before.

Before long I was being carted off down to a bar on the way to Chaewang, called Buddy Beer, which is owned by the Police and stays open until 6 am.

By the time we go there it was somewhere around 1am and I?d not really had much chance to cast my critical eye over the local welcoming committee, the main reason (apart from the stones up my hoop) was that I spent most of the evening fending off texts from the Wigan Observer who had the misfortune and inconvenience of spending another night in Bangkok, they were along the lines of ?Where?s this Eden place you were on about?? and ?Which bars got that naughty corner thing??

Anyway I cast me eyes over potential receptacles for my genetic code and saw plenty of ladies who would have been capable of unencrypting me but few who would have been much fun to look at during the deciphering process.

Anyway it was hitting 4 am and I was about to go home and strum the one stringed banjo when I saw what can only (in my advanced meditative state) be described as a gift from Buddha. Anyone culturally inept enough to have been a fan of nineties pop pap soulsters Mpeople and even those who didn?t like their songs would agree that the lead singer Heather Small, was worth a game of twister, and the bird that I?d clapped my eyes on was a Thai version of her. She was dancing ostentatiously on some podium in the middle of the floor, and being the silver tongued charmer that I am I wooed her with something along the lines of, ?Come wi? me darling you?ll have your gold out of hock in no time.?

And she did, once I?d bought a big pot of some sort of soup and about four Bacardi?s for her and her mates. I did have to sit and listen to them talking shite for a while before I got her to come along and was forced to eat some of the concoction which contained vegetables, no meat and had not been deep fried.

I asked her where she was from, ?Surin.?

?Why come Ko Samui ??

?Because before hab boyflend Surin then hab new boyfriend he try to kill me and him.?

After explaining what a good motorcyclist she was, I let her drive me home. As I undressed her back at chez kHunt I noticed that she had scars on both knees about half an inch deep and the diameter of cigarette packets and bones sticking out of her shoulders at unusual angles.

?How this happen??

?I ham accident motrbi.?

If I had seen her disfigurement my cowardice would have prevented me from mounting the back of her cycle, and as I mounted the back of her arse I thanked the Lord that I?d made it home alive.

Because I?d had a fair bit to drink that night I performed the way Manchester City do when they play one of the bigger teams like Arsenal or Chelsea, I put in 100 % effort for the first ten minutes, got near the goal mouth a couple of times then when I realised I was getting nowhere went to sleep.

In the morning I found out that her name was Petty and as she seemed, if nothing else like an entertaining sort I decided to let her stay around..

I remember a while back some bloke on the Plaza putting a post on about how he?d brought some Dove shower gel with him and the birds had gone wild for it, so I dug deep before I came and bought a bottle. When I got it home from the shop I noticed that it said on the front, ?For best results use with puff.? Now I have no intention of sharing a douche with a homosexual and had a feeling that the logisitical aspects of keeping the other meaning of puff in vernacular English alight in the shower would have been a little difficult, so made do and shared it with Petty. Once I?d cleaned her with it she was happy to get on her knees and take a sample of my chak wa caviar in her face then as we lay on the bed cuddling and sharing a cigarette it seemed that she failed to remember last nights conversation as to why she was in Samui.

She looked me in the eye, smiled and said, ?I want you come Surin with me.?

Samui?s the sort of place where taking it easy?s the order of the day, nice and sleepy no hassles, have a few drinks fanny about go to bed, do the same again.

Years of abuse of one sort or another prevents me from giving too accurate a picture of the precise proceedings on the fair isle, and you?ve got to understand that as I?ve been visiting Thailand for nearly 10 years I?ve learned to understand what the people are trying to say.

Anyway that night myself and Petty stayed in Lamai (she wanted to go to Chaewang where she lived, but at that time there was more chance of VI?s Mrs turning down a game of cards than there was of me getting on the back of her bike). After a few drinks she said she wanted to go to the ?Leccy pump? which if I wasn?t fluent in Thai and familiar with Ko Samui I would have thought it was some sort of generating device for delivering power/electricity to local appliances and households, but I knew she meant the ?Reggae Pub? in Chaewang.

I went on to explain that we should go to Super Sub in Lamai, but she replied ?No ham pea ball.?

Which the uninitiated would have mistaken for a kosher snack made out of a pea on it?s own, although with my local knowledge I knew she meant it was empty.

She then proceeded to explain that we should go the ?Cleen Manco? which a neophyte would have mistaken for someone from within the confines of the M60 having just got out of the shower, although I knew she meant the bar at the top of Soi Green Mango, because the Cleen Manco ?Ham Peaball? which is similar to a ?No ham peaball? except served on a slice of cured pork.

It wasn?t long before I learned that Petty maintained her admirable figure by spending a couple of hours an evening doing what she called ?sexy dancing?, which involved going to the nearest nightclub, appointing herself to the most prominent position and gyrating herself in a fashion akin to a loon full of ?Gary Abletts? ( Liverpool fans know what that means) for a couple of hours every night. The first night I noticed her routine was in Super Sub (Lamai) which has suffered from Taxin?s tolerance and now shuts at 1 am. Previoulsy it was full of fun seekers until 3, but now there?s a a few of the local jiko?s turn up who stare solemnly at farangs and a few effeminate barstaff. Anyway, me and Petty walked in I ordered 2 crates of Chang and she got a bottle of water. While I was waiting for my refreshment to arrive, she hopped on the nearest podium and started shaking her arse like she needed to get out of prison. The jiko?s stood to attention and started salivating. I started to shit myself. There was a group of twenty of them all stood watching her tits rise and fall.

Without wanting to sound like a know it all, I?m painfully aware of the fact that a jealous Thai suitor is more dangerous than a Mujahadi with a map of Golder?s Green so I sent her a text saying I?d wait outside and fucked off.

When she turned up at the bar I was drinking in she couldn?t understand my desire to leave and insisted we should go somewhere she could carry on dancing, she took me to a bar playing go Go music, staffed by 15 good looking girls. I was surprised to see that there was only one farang drinking at the bar, then looked around and saw the reason why. There was a ?girl? perched atop the railings at the entrance, wearing a crop top and denim mini skirt, trying her level best to vigorously dance off the 3 Full English (sorry multicultural) breakfasts and 17 pints of stout she?s had every day for the last 2 years.

That night I took Petty home and tried to perform oral sex on her, but after her over ebullient rug cutting her clout smelt like a workman?s hut in summer.

Petty was good looking, but you know what I mean when I say I got a sleeper. Generally I wake about midday needing a cigarette, have a shite and go back to bed until I wake up hungry at 2 pm. Petty?s one of these girls who can sleep for 18 hours and will only wake up when you turn the TV off.

After a couple of days I ran into M again, he saw me and Petty walk into the bar he was drinking in and enquired about my sex life with a thinly concealed hint of jealousy.

?All that glitters is not gold,? was my reply.

After I?d held Petty hostage in Lamai for a few nights she insisted that we head back to her gaff in Chaewang for a while. I wasn?t that keen at first, but after a quick sniff of her underwear it seemed like a good idea.

I decided to let her drive me back to her gaff and after she?d afforded me the privilege of buying her, her sister, her sister?s mate and daughter and five other passers by a meal at MK restaurant we pulled up at her place. It was in a complex behind the Green Mango built for Thai?s not tourists and as I was wandered through I was impressed by the first class tennis courts, five aside pitch and weight training facilities that were on offer and saw how the Thais seemed to be busying themselves with healthy pass times.

She showed me her bungalow, which overlooked a lake. It made quite a nice picture, seeing fog descend the mountains and the sun setting in harmony while I held hands with a beautiful girl then I had to leg it after five minutes for an urgent shit in her bog.

I decided not to compliment her on having the good hygienic sense to have the toilet and kitchen in the same room. She wanted to do some fannying about, and I couldn?t be arsed watching her rearrange her clothes on the shelves and lighting incense, so went and had a drink in a nearby bar.

She turned up after only two and a half hours and sat and had a three Baccardi?s with me and when it felt like time to head back to Lamai I elected to get the baht bus while she drove her motorbike (I?d noticed from scientific observations that she was pissed after two). About ten minutes into the journey a storm started and I battoned down the buses rain sheets and wondered how Petty was getting on on her bike. When I got to Lamai I sat in a bar called Billabong and watched the rain make dents in the road and after half an hour Petty arrived, with her make up washed off and a face like a slapped arse. She dragged me out of the bar, took me to the hotel and after I?d closed air and opened TV she fucked the life out of me whilst insisting, ?I cold too muts. You fuck me warm.?

The next day I woke and checked the credit on my phone, I had about ten baht and as I was relatively unhindered by a hangover I headed out and got 300 baht worth of credit then sat and had breakfast. Once I?d eaten I must admit I felt virtuous at having risen before 1:30 pm and having done something constructive, so decided to ring Carew.

Carew was glad to speak to me and was verbose and ebulent as to how good his new life was, how good the school he worked at is and was very insistent that I should come and visit him in Rayong. When I eventually managed to put the phone down after making up 0.2 % of the conversation I checked my balance and realised I needed to get more credit again.

That night I had a quiet night and the next day I flew back to Bangkok. When I arrived at Samui airport, I was glad that I was going back on a jet, rather than one of the prop driven aircraft (forgive me for not knowing the specifics but I?m not well up on planes) that had brought me. The flight took fifty minutes, was smooth, comfortable and enjoyable (unlike the outward journey, where I?d nearly shit myself and been buffeted about like a dice in shaker).

Pleased at the quality of the flight I gave the cabin staff a polite thankful smile that said, ?I?m a taxi driver in England that was a very pleasant journey.?

Once I?d got off the cabin crew scratched their labias, called me a tosser under their breath?s, lit a cigarette and waited for the next load of passengers to get on board.

I got a cab from the airport to Nana Tai Mansion and said fuck all to the driver. I checked in and had a shower. As it was a Friday, I decided to head down Gulliver?s, I?ve never been down one of the meetings before, and by the time I got there it was 10:30, now call me stupid, but I had no way of knowing what anyone looked like and it was getting a bit late. There was nobody in there who could be easily recognisable as a bunch of whoremongers who meet on the internet, as the place was full of er, whoremongers I suppose. I decided to ask one of the girls sat at the table I was drinking at, ?You know NanaPlaza.com?

?Yes. Get taxi ask for Soi 4.?

I decided to cut my losses and head down Cowboy and well, I got bladdered.

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