Rub, Tug, and a Plumbing Surprise: Welcome to Thailand, Rupert!

[Lewie London]

So my mate Rupert lands in Chiang Mai, fresh off the plane from Kensington, after legging a domestic flight up from Bangkok, now feelin’ like he’s just escaped a hedge fund collapse.

Hair all tousled, shirt stickin’ to his back like a clingy ex, and mutterin’ about Heathrow delays and cryin’ babies. Says to me he needs to “decompress” which, in posh speak, means find a massage spot that ends with a bit of wrist action and a towel over the eyes. Nothin’ too shady, he reckons, just a rub and a tug to take the edge off the jet lag.

 

Anyway, I point him toward one of the local joints around the moat that’s known for leavin’ customers with a smile and a slightly guilty conscience. He struts in like he’s James Bond on a secret mission, tells the receptionist he’s not after the full Monty, just a gentle stroke of the king and a bit of moisturiser on the conclusion. He reckons everything went smooth as silk, warm oil, a bit of small talk, classical music playin’ in the background, then boom, curtains closed, job well done.

 

Here’s where it gets interestin’. After the deed’s done, Rupert pops into the bathroom to rinse off his gentleman’s agreement, right? Next thing he knows, the massage therapist strolls in right after him, whips out a meat and two veg, and starts havin’ a slash like it’s just another Tuesday. Rupert clocks it mid-stream and nearly drops his flannel in the sink. He rings me up in full panic mode, whisperin’ like MI5’s got his phone tapped, askin’ “Lewie, bruv… does this make me gay?”

 

I told him straight, “Mate, unless you started singin’ show tunes and lightin’ candles, you’re probably still in the straight lane. You didn’t touch it, kiss it, or offer to split the bill, you got your rod polished and that’s that.” But he’s still havin’ a full-blown existential crisis like he’s just woken up in a Tom of Finland sketch. Keeps sayin’ “But Lewie, I felt somethin’, maybe it was more than a just hand on my tool box.” Yeah mate, you felt shame, confusion, and possibly a bit of tongue in the wrong crevice.

 

Now he’s walkin’ around Central Airport with that haunted look in his eyes like he’s seen the ghost of Margaret Thatcher in a miniskirt. Keeps checkin’ himself out in the mirror like he’s waitin’ for his wrists to start goin’ limp or his Spotify to recommend Men at Work. I told him to pull himself together, this is Thailand, not Tunbridge Wells. Half the birds are blokes and half the blokes are on hormones, it’s a bloody gender funfair out here.

 

So I tell him like this: "When you’re lookin’ for a happy endin’, don’t go in expectin’ a fairy tale. You might just get Cinderella with a surprise under her ball gown. But as long as no one’s tryin’ to marry you or nick your wallet, relax, have a Chang, and chalk it up to cultural exchange. Welcome to land of smiles, Rupert. Next round’s on you, lad."

[Lacessit]

"Margaret Thatcher in a miniskirt". Are you trying to give everyone nightmares?

[soi3eddie]

Bob Smith?

 

[lamyai3]

36 minutes ago, soi3eddie said:

Bob Smith?

 

Most definitely, ineffectually disguised behind a very unconvincing cheeky chappie cockney accent. 

[quake]

First sentence was enough.

Yawn. 

[hankypankee]

1 hour ago, quake said:

First sentence was enough.

Yawn. 

Meanwhile, you read it 5 times, unit in hand, now your keyboard regrets it. 😂

[HappyExpat57]

1 hour ago, quake said:

First sentence was enough.

Yawn. 

 

This isn't the first time you've made a post like this. If you don't like it, don't click on the topic. It's quite easy to see who is posting from the avatar.

 

Many of us enjoy a rather disjointed but eloquently written story. Lewie gets a lot of likes and more than a few conversations stem from the stories.

 

You get a yellow flag and a yawn yourself.        🥱

[EVENKEEL]

Tell Rupert 3 a year don't make you queer.