When Does High Season Start Now ?

[Flashermac]

LBFM = lady boy effing machine

[Nasiadai]

Oh Flashermak, you are a forgetful person.

I posted exactly that video im my posting # 18!

I know all the videos of Soi4, Nana Plaza and Soi Cowboy.

But ok. Two are better than one.

 

But most of the videos are very poorly made, amateurish productions.

 

But nevertheless, they bring back sweet memories.

 

Gobbeldonk,

I always favoured Bangkok over the seaside resort of Pattaya.

 

Now that I reflect about it, I think: it was and is the fascination of the NEP, so many bars, so many girls, many of them very beautiful.

[Flashermac]

Me forgetful? Hah!

 

Now what was I going to say ...

[gobbledonk]

No flasher, nothing to do with ladyboys, but I guess you cant stop fixating on them after that night at Casanova's !

 

http://www.bangkokpost.com/lifestyle/17252_info_casanova-bar.html

 

I sometimes sit at the little bar directly below/opposite Casanova's, and the other side of the bar is Ladyboy Central. I dont know what they look like under the more favourable lighting in the bar itself (honest !), but sitting out there primping and preening (and bitching to one another), I cant say I've seen anything special, but then that's how I view 95% of the real women in NEP these days. The last time I thought I had stumbed on a stunner - she came running up to me, looking very excited - it turned out she was one of my crazy ex's spies. She promptly ratted on me and half an hour later I was confronted by a crazed bitch hellbent on trying to embarass me in public. Realising it was water off a duck's back, she stormed off with her stoolie in tow, both of them giving me daggers. I just kept drinking, and the girls I was with carried on as though nothing had happened - gotta love the Thais.

[Fiery Jack]

I say it with Alvin Stardust...

 

 

Speaking of prostitutes and Alvin Stardust, certainly worth transcribing for posterity are the best bits of a conversation I had during a business trip in sweaty Singapore last month with a boozed-up English fellow, a chirpy cockerney with a saucy Singaporean missus , who used to "work" for the Sun newspaper. While we ate blowtorch-curry and threw down Singaporean lager as if it were actually worth drinking, he did a well-received, hour-long routine on "The Exposés that Got Away!"

 

In short, for every muck-raking, sordid "celebrity" exposé the Sun/News of The Screws publishes — Wayne Rooney's Grannie Nights Of Shame, Maradonna Sniffed Coke Off My Foreskin, Oliver Reed Drank My Hamster, Freddie Starr Ate My Pussy etc. — there are, predictably, at least a dozen others that don't make it to press for various tragic reasons i. e. complete lack of solid evidence, pay-offs and death threats, informers unwilling to be bribed, named or sign sworn statements and so on. (According to the man in question, the Sun now employs a team of 5 staff members whose sole occupation is to answer the Celebrity Scandal Hotline and note down the incoming scurrilous tip-offs. Dozens a day, he swears.)

 

Anyway, the best "one that got away" of recent times involves the woeful chronicling of the Asian post-prandial activities of one Desmond Lyneham (spelling ?), he of the daft moustache and bouffant hairdo, jovial sports presenter extraordinaire. Seems some tanked-up, busting-for-a-post-coital-piss Joe Ordinary business-bloke from London staggered into the wrong room in a Bangkok brothel one night to find not the desired toilet-pan but one Desmond Lyneham, well "aled-up" in appearance, bollock-naked and clumsily rodgering not one but two suspiciously young-looking oriental nymphettes atop a soiled single mattress.

 

"One up top, one down below," was how the ex-pat put it, whatever that means (I was too embarrassed to ask). Muttering sundry apologies, our latrine-seeker excuses himself politely, leaving Dunkin' Des, for it was certainly he, to get on with the "necessaries at hand." Arriving back in the big smoke some days later, our lavatory-hunting pal scents the whiff of ready cash and rings up the Sun in order to relay his Thai-side observations to the worthy British press, as any model citizen would. For a thousand quid, cash, he coughs up the name and address of the bordello in question. Pronto, the Sun sends a journalist to Bangkok armed with bribe-money, notepad and camera plus press shots of Des Lyneham and a few other well-kennt suspects likely to have had their pants round their ankles in the company of strangers in the Far East of late (Steve Coppell, that stout bloke James Corden, Tom O'Connor, Ollie Murrs, Nic Cage etc,) by way of a makeshift "identity parade." Well, shiver me timbers, he manages quickly to locate both rentable gals and, bingo, they pick out Dallying Des's mug from the photofile without hesitation. However, being a) prostitutes, under-age, and c) visa-less Philippinos, the gals refuse point-blank to give their names or sign statements. Undaunted, our journalist returns to Blighty and sets up an interview with the craven Lyneham himself, purportedly to discuss the pressures involved with being a "top" sports caster etc. But …

 

Once seated comfortably across the table from Double-Decker Des, our Sun-man, with a mixture of panache and bravado as heartbreaking as it is joyful, whips out a Polaroid of the Bangkok duo and sticks it under Des's startled hooter. Up leaps Lyneham: "Print one word about this and I'll sue," he rages. "You can't prove any of it. I'll take you to the fucking cleaners!" And, with this, Lyneham abruptly departs from the hotel tearoom, gracelessly knocking over an umbrella stand in his haste to be elsewhere. At a hastily convened meeting, the able Sun Editor's lawyer declares "Shame, but we daren't print the story without written corroboration."...

 

(This is in the wake of the "Elton John At Rent Boy Shagging Party" affair where, even in the face of Polaroids of himself sedulously inspecting a minor's bottom, the bold Elton took the Sun for a cool million in the name of libel — QUOTE OF THE CENTURY "They can say I'm an old poofter. They can say I'm a fat, talentless git. They can say I can't sing for toffee. But they mustn't tell lies about me." Elton John, 1993, outside the Old Bailey, magic. )

...Sun-man panics. Affidavits called for. Cue immediate 'phone call to the original London Joe Lavatory-man who, though sticking to his story like super glue, sadly declines to sign a statement, fearful of his own missus and immediate family's wrath should they find out he was gainlessly employed inside a Bangkok brothel during his recent "business trip" eastwards. In brief, Des gets away with it and the world's none the wiser. But we know, don't we? And quite rightly so.

 

But that's nothing, lads. You should have heard the one about the Polaroid someone sent in (anonymously) of a sozzled-looking Alvin Stardust gratefully receiving a post-show dressing-room blow-job circa 1973. Black latex loons down around his ankles and a flared grin from sideburn to sideburn. "My Coo-Ga-Choo," indeed, sir. Good arrows. (Bet Liza Goddard doesn't know about that one.) Some handy stories about Paul Gascoigne as well, though most of it just smashing up discos and restaurants, snorting coke, boozing and brawling and getting caught in bed with other people's wives. Just what you'd expect of a young Geordie lad thrust suddenly into the limelight.

 

jack

[gobbledonk]

Some of your best Jack, even if I dont recognise many of the names. Stardust is about as relevant to my music collection as Gary Glitter - hopefully, for his sake, his tastes were a little more adult than Mr Glitter. Scuttlebutt from long ago is that at least one Beatle wasn't too fussed about checking IDs when he had his minions invite girls upstairs from the throng outside the hotel - I'd be surprised if anyone from that era could even remember any of their antics with any certainty. Always amuses me when they interview some ancient pothead for their memories of the 70s. I can remember when Ozzy could still put a coherent sentence together - sadly, he can't.

[Fiery Jack]

I don't know about you, lads, but 'high season' started for me about 2 days ago and looks set fair to stay this way till we're a week into 2014.

 

Merry Xmas and a Happy New Year to one and all. See you in Thailand next year.

 

jack

[Mekong]

Not High Season for me out in rural Northern Vietnam freezing my gonads off and working 12 hours / day, can't complain, as Captain Farrel would say I am earning a pretty penny, and I do have a little part of Thailand with me aka the wife.

 

25th January 2014 is when my high season starts 2 weeks off work for TET holidays and we go back home to Bangkok, 4 weeks tomorrow but who is counting.

[waerth]

Bring me a nice Vietnamese girl for my birthday on January 25th

[Mekong]

Only one?