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THAILAND LIVE Thailand Live Saturday 22 February 2025
Man Drowns After Asthma Attack While Fishing in Samut Songkhram A 54-year-old man drowned in a coconut orchard canal in Samut Songkhram after suffering an asthma attack while fishing. The incident occurred in the Tha Kha subdistrict of Amphawa. Full story:https://aseannow.com/topic/1352536-man-drowns-after-asthma-attack-while-fishing-in-samut-songkhram/ -
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Undercover Officers Uncover Khon Kaen Prostitution Scam
"When Naree entered a hotel room and accepted the money, she was arrested" Did Naree entered the hotel room draped with a towel? Maybe Naree took a shower outside the hotel room first? Confusing .... -
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Soi 6, Legs For Days, and a Chiropractor: A Cautionary Tale
No need mate, I own Skynet. -
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Man Drowns After Asthma Attack While Fishing in Samut Songkhram
Picture from responders. A 54-year-old man drowned in a coconut orchard canal in Samut Songkhram after suffering an asthma attack while fishing. The incident occurred in the Tha Kha subdistrict of Amphawa. Authorities were alerted to the scene after receiving reports of a drowning. Police officers from Amphawa Police Station, led by Lieutenant Colonel Natthaphat Channarong, along with emergency responders and a medical examiner from Amphawa Hospital, arrived to investigate. The victim, identified as Mr. Thitiphon, was found lying face down in the water. He was wearing a red t-shirt and shorts and had likely been deceased for approximately three hours. His red-and-black Honda Wave motorcycle was discovered parked nearby. His son, Mr. Phisit 28, was present at the scene to provide information to the authorities. According to Mr. Phisit, his father worked as a toddy palm harvester and supplemented his income by fishing to sell at the local market. He also had a history of asthma. He had left home around 13:30 on 21 February, informing his family that he would be fishing in the area, known for its abundant fish. When he failed to return for several hours, the family became concerned. Later, they received a phone call informing them that he had drowned. Mr. Pichai 61, a local resident who discovered the body, stated that he initially assumed the man was searching for shrimp in the water. However, after observing him in the same position for an unusually long time, he realised something was wrong and found that the man had drowned. Preliminary investigations suggest that the victim had parked his motorcycle near the road before walking approximately 250 metres into the orchard to cast his fishing net. It is believed that he suffered an asthma attack and collapsed and fell into the water. The body has been sent to the forensic department at Ratchaburi Hospital for further examination, and authorities will continue their investigation into the exact cause of death. -- 2025-02-22 -
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My Harley Disaster...
Mates, let me tell you, I don’t know what it is, but the universe seems to have it out for me lately. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s bad luck. Or maybe it’s just that Thailand simply cannot handle a man of my stature, good looks, and wealth roaring through the streets on a 900-pound chromed Milwaukee masterpiece. So, there I was, yesterday afternoon, taking my beloved Harley down Soi 6, heading to meet my old mate Pete the Porker for a few tins. I’m feeling good, looking sharp, got my aviators on, leather vest in this 36-degree heat because fashion is pain, and the engine purring like a high-class BJ Queen. I glide down the soi, weaving through the usual mix of punters, bar sluts, and wide-eyed first-timers still trying to process the sheer carnage of what they’ve just walked into. A few lovely ladies give me the nod (standard for a baller like me), and I’m thinking, Yeah, Bob, you know you’ve still got it. And then, disaster. Out of nowhere, some absolute tosser in a battered old Toyota Altis, looking like it's an old repainted Bangkok taxi, decides to stomp on the brakes right in front of me. No indication, no warning, nothing. I yank the brakes, but it’s too late. The front wheel locks up, the handlebars wobble, and suddenly, BOOM—I’m down. Bob, the king of Soi 6, now lying in the middle of the one lane Soi like a bruised mango, my Harley keeled over like a beached whale. For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of my own rage boiling over. And then, the laughter. Of course, the peanut gallery absolutely loved that one. Slappers cackling, motocy taxi drivers pointing, even some pasty bloke in cargo shorts gave me a thumbs up. Real funny, yeah? Watching a man’s ego get obliterated in broad daylight? I pick myself up, dust off my jeans, wipe off my boots, and turn to the idiot responsible for this catastrophe. He’s stepped out of his car now, a middle-aged local bloke in knockoff Ray-Bans and a shirt that says “Red Bull Champions 2014.” The type who probably spends his days cutting people off in traffic and his nights trying to convince karaoke girls that he’s a pilot. I hit him with my best intimidating mug-shot stare. “Mate, what the actual f*** was that?” The bloke shrugs. Shrugs! Like I just asked him what his favorite noodle stall is. Then he hits me with, “Farang not careful.” Farang not careful?! I nearly blew a gasket on the spot. I was gliding through that soi like a majestic panther before this absolute numpty of the highest order decided to pull a handbrake turn for no reason. I point to my bike. “You see that, yeah? That’s 2,800,000 baht of pure American steel you just laid out like a cheap deck chair.” Does he care? No. In fact, now he’s getting annoyed at me, like I’m the inconvenience in his day! A small crowd is gathering. More bar girls watching now, some old expat lads leaning against a bar railing, enjoying the show. Then, out of nowhere, this fella tries to walk back to his car like it’s case closed. Oh, no. Not today. Bob's not having it. I step in front of his door. “Oi, mate, not so fast. Who’s paying for the damage to my Harley?” He sighs, takes off his sunglasses, and says the words: “Not my problem farang.” And that’s when I knew it was game over. This was one of those classic Thailand moments where, no matter what, the farang is always in the wrong. I could have had a dashcam, sworn witness statements, and a handwritten apology from the grandfather of Pattaya himself, and I’d still be the one walking away with a lighter wallet and a fresh dose of humiliation. And sure enough, before I can argue further, a couple of motocy taxi runts start shaking their fingers at me. One even says, “You go too fast farang.” Mate, I was going ten kilometers an hour. I’ve seen coconuts roll faster. But what can you do? Welcome to Pattaya. I’m left standing there, sweaty, pissed off, my Harley scuffed up, while the fella hops back in his Toyota sh*tbox and drives off like nothing happened. And Pete the Porker? The useless sod is already at the bar, texting me “where u at bruv?” as I stand there in the middle of Soi 6, trying to piece together what’s left of my sense of humor. Moral of the story, lads? Driving in Thailand is like Thai go-go bar tabs, you never quite know how badly you’re getting shafted until it’s all already too late. Best regards, The Original Bob.
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