So I wander down to the local post office yesterday, yeah. Figure I’ll do something nice for once and send a birthday card to me dear auntie Brenda back in Blighty. Thought it’d make her chuffed, y’know, her favourite nephew still alive, sober enough for once to buy a stamp, and sentimental enough to remember the date.

 

Now, the post office in this town’s a right scene. You’ve got blokes tryin’ to send mystery boxes to Nigeria, old expats moanin’ about queue numbers like it’s a tax office, and half the counter staff lookin’ like they’d rather be anywhere else but there. I write me auntie’s address on the envelope, then lick it shut, sweatin’ me tits off under them flickerin’ fluorescent lights, thinkin’ this’ll be easy. How hard can it be to post a bloody card?

 

Turns out, harder than passing a breathalyser at 3am.

 

Whilst I’m waitin’ in the single item customer express queue, the Yank next to me’s tryin’ to argue that his half-melted jar of peanut butter ain’t gonna break in the post, the clerk’s havin’ none of it, shakin’ her head like she’s dealt with this circus too many times. Then some old Russian bird barges in front of everyone yellin’ about her lost parcel from Vladivostok, nearly takes me knee out with her shopping bag. I’m standin’ there in the middle of it all, still sweatin’ like a kebab in July, thinkin’ all I wanted to do was post one bloody card, not star in a live episode of Farang Tirades: Pattaya Edition.

 

Eventually the chaos dies down a bit. Suddenly it's time for me to step up to the counter, whilst feelin’ like I’ve just survived war of the muppets.

 

Now I'm being polite like, flashin' me signature smile, while the lady behind the counter eyes me card like it’s radioactive. “You cannot send na,” she says. I go, “Eh? It’s a card, love, not a kilo of China-White.” She shakes her head, says somethin’ about “incorrect size envelope” and “no glue seal.” I’m standin’ there tryin’ to work out if she’s takin’ the piss or if I’m in the middle of a Kafka novel with aircon.

 

So I’m flappin’ around, tryin’ to sort it out, and that’s when I hear this soft voice behind me say, “You need tape, yes?” I turn round, and there she is. Cute as a button. Maybe late 20s, early 30s, big brown almond shaped eyes, hair flowin' like she just stepped out of a shampoo ad. She’s got that gentle smile that could make you forget where you parked your motorbike.

 

She’s holdin’ a parcel, all neat and tidy, like she’s done this postal game a few times before. She offers me some of her tape and helps seal me auntie’s card with a level of care you’d expect from someone wrapping the crown jewels. We get chattin’, turns out she used to work at a bank in Bangkok, came down here to help her sister run a new café with her brother. Real nice girl. Calm energy. None of that chaos you get from the nightlife bird lot.

 

When it’s all sorted, she laughs and says, “You good heart. Sending love to family.” I’m thinkin’, well yeah, or tryin’ to anyway. Then she tilts her head and goes, “You want to eat noodle? Across the street, very good tom yum, pet, arroy mahk, na.”

 

Now normally, I’d be all over that. Cute bird, kind gesture, easy chat, that’s a textbook Lewie setup. But then I glance down at the parcel in her hand. Big brown box with the address scribbled across it in neat writing. “Mr. Graham Swift - Chichester, United Kingdom.”

 

Graham. Bloody Graham. Always a bleeding Graham geezer in the story somewhere, innit.

 

So I smile, thank her for the help, tell her I’ve got a mate waitin’ for me up the soi, maybe next time yeah, and off I shuffle like a polite mug. Could’ve been a lovely bowl of noodles, maybe a bit of flirtin’ after, or… who knows. But I’m not in the mood to be sittin’ there over shrimp and chili paste while some bloke starts textin’ her “good morning beautiful” whilst he’s hanging his arse over the bog back in the old country.

 

So I drop me card in the outgoing bin, take a wee puff off me new lavender vape, and have a right chuckle to meself.

 

Just another day in Patts, where you go in to post a card to your auntie and almost end up third wheelin’ in some bird’s long-distance love triangle.

Elvis had the same problem.

 

(Note:  Precursor to the Trump dance).

 

 

I miss Bob.

All these whiners and moaners acting like victims of someone's story telling when nobody’s forcing them to click or read anything. They could just scroll past the topic, but no, they dive right in, read every word, and then complain. What does that say about them? Absolutely nothing good. It just screams that they’ve got nothing happening in their dull, empty lives and nothing better to do at 4:00 am than waste time on something they claim to hate. Pitiful. 

2 hours ago, HappyExpat57 said:

I miss Bob.

 

Got some bad news for you on that one. Looks like you’re the only one who feels that way and you don’t have any followers. The good news is bob will prolly be thrilled to meet up with you, ruin his shorts again with burrito squirts at the bar, and then introduce you to some of his favorite ladyboys down Soi 6.

3 minutes ago, short-Timer said:

 

Got some bad news for you on that one. Looks like you’re the only one who feels that way and you don’t have any followers. The good news is bob will prolly be thrilled to meet up with you, ruin his shorts again with burrito squirts at the bar, and then introduce you to some of his favorite ladyboys down Soi 6.

Interesting - I never knew "having followers" was a thing, didn't even know it existed before you mentioned it here. If I could care less, I would.

1 hour ago, Alpha84 said:

All these whiners and moaners acting like victims of someone's story telling when nobody’s forcing them to click or read anything. They could just scroll past the topic, but no, they dive right in, read every word, and then complain. What does that say about them? Absolutely nothing good. It just screams that they’ve got nothing happening in their dull, empty lives and nothing better to do at 4:00 am than waste time on something they claim to hate. Pitiful. 

Indeed, a sad bunch. Thought it was quite entertaining. You know it’s bs, however, since nobody sends cards from Thailand anymore. Complete rip off and takes weeks. 

15 minutes ago, short-Timer said:

 

Got some bad news for you on that one. Looks like you’re the only one who feels that way and you don’t have any followers. The good news is bob will prolly be thrilled to meet up with you, ruin his shorts again with burrito squirts at the bar, and then introduce you to some of his favorite ladyboys down Soi 6.

Did doom and gloom happen all at once or did it occur alittle bit at a time?

 

Bring back Bob?

Posts removed. 

3 hours ago, HappyExpat57 said:

I miss Bob.

 

 

But not enough....

Welcome back, Lewie!  I've missed your stories!
Thanks for another fun read over my morning breakfast.
(Note: I do NOT care that Lewie's stories are AI-fiction. I read them for the pleasure of the narrative, not as a source of World News.)
Keep up the good work!

10 minutes ago, FolkGuitar said:

Welcome back, Lewie!  I've missed your stories!
Thanks for another fun read over my morning breakfast.
(Note: I do NOT care that Lewie's stories are AI-fiction. I read them for the pleasure of the narrative, not as a source of World News.)
Keep up the good work!

A waste of my time reading this nonsense

You should write a book Bob , about your fictitious adventures in Thailand ,

you could call it  Bob in wonderland , it would be a top seller ...or not

 

regards worgeordie

 

 

I was waiting for the part where you find out she has a weenie.

 

1 hour ago, thesetat said:

A waste of my time reading this nonsense

Would you please explain why you read it, if you don’t like it? 
I’d be very interested in the psychology behind it. 

Just now, FolkGuitar said:

Would you please explain why you read it, if you don’t like it? 
I’d be very interested in the psychology behind it. 

Because the title makes you think that there is a problem with mailing things at the post... Rather than just the writers dreams  about getting an honest girl that really likes him. 

10 minutes ago, thesetat said:

Because the title makes you think that there is a problem with mailing things at the post... Rather than just the writers dreams  about getting an honest girl that really likes him. 

Seriously? Or maybe the problem is too serious. Lighten up already and try to see the entertainment value of this forum, if you can’t then at least try to make a joke out of it.

1 hour ago, thesetat said:

Because the title makes you think that there is a problem with mailing things at the post... Rather than just the writers dreams  about getting an honest girl that really likes him. 

You have been a member here for 12-13 years, yet you couldn’t tell after the first paragraph that this was ANOTHER Lewie sendup?

I guess my real question is, why did you continue to read it, and then complain about it. 

8 hours ago, Lewie London said:

So I wander down to the local post office yesterday, yeah. Figure I’ll do something nice for once and send a birthday card to me dear auntie Brenda back in Blighty. Thought it’d make her chuffed, y’know, her favourite nephew still alive, sober enough for once to buy a stamp, and sentimental enough to remember the date.

 

Now, the post office in this town’s a right scene. You’ve got blokes tryin’ to send mystery boxes to Nigeria, old expats moanin’ about queue numbers like it’s a tax office, and half the counter staff lookin’ like they’d rather be anywhere else but there. I write me auntie’s address on the envelope, then lick it shut, sweatin’ me tits off under them flickerin’ fluorescent lights, thinkin’ this’ll be easy. How hard can it be to post a bloody card?

 

Turns out, harder than passing a breathalyser at 3am.

 

Whilst I’m waitin’ in the single item customer express queue, the Yank next to me’s tryin’ to argue that his half-melted jar of peanut butter ain’t gonna break in the post, the clerk’s havin’ none of it, shakin’ her head like she’s dealt with this circus too many times. Then some old Russian bird barges in front of everyone yellin’ about her lost parcel from Vladivostok, nearly takes me knee out with her shopping bag. I’m standin’ there in the middle of it all, still sweatin’ like a kebab in July, thinkin’ all I wanted to do was post one bloody card, not star in a live episode of Farang Tirades: Pattaya Edition.

 

Eventually the chaos dies down a bit. Suddenly it's time for me to step up to the counter, whilst feelin’ like I’ve just survived war of the muppets.

 

Now I'm being polite like, flashin' me signature smile, while the lady behind the counter eyes me card like it’s radioactive. “You cannot send na,” she says. I go, “Eh? It’s a card, love, not a kilo of China-White.” She shakes her head, says somethin’ about “incorrect size envelope” and “no glue seal.” I’m standin’ there tryin’ to work out if she’s takin’ the piss or if I’m in the middle of a Kafka novel with aircon.

 

So I’m flappin’ around, tryin’ to sort it out, and that’s when I hear this soft voice behind me say, “You need tape, yes?” I turn round, and there she is. Cute as a button. Maybe late 20s, early 30s, big brown almond shaped eyes, hair flowin' like she just stepped out of a shampoo ad. She’s got that gentle smile that could make you forget where you parked your motorbike.

 

She’s holdin’ a parcel, all neat and tidy, like she’s done this postal game a few times before. She offers me some of her tape and helps seal me auntie’s card with a level of care you’d expect from someone wrapping the crown jewels. We get chattin’, turns out she used to work at a bank in Bangkok, came down here to help her sister run a new café with her brother. Real nice girl. Calm energy. None of that chaos you get from the nightlife bird lot.

 

When it’s all sorted, she laughs and says, “You good heart. Sending love to family.” I’m thinkin’, well yeah, or tryin’ to anyway. Then she tilts her head and goes, “You want to eat noodle? Across the street, very good tom yum, pet, arroy mahk, na.”

 

Now normally, I’d be all over that. Cute bird, kind gesture, easy chat, that’s a textbook Lewie setup. But then I glance down at the parcel in her hand. Big brown box with the address scribbled across it in neat writing. “Mr. Graham Swift - Chichester, United Kingdom.”

 

Graham. Bloody Graham. Always a bleeding Graham geezer in the story somewhere, innit.

 

So I smile, thank her for the help, tell her I’ve got a mate waitin’ for me up the soi, maybe next time yeah, and off I shuffle like a polite mug. Could’ve been a lovely bowl of noodles, maybe a bit of flirtin’ after, or… who knows. But I’m not in the mood to be sittin’ there over shrimp and chili paste while some bloke starts textin’ her “good morning beautiful” whilst he’s hanging his arse over the bog back in the old country.

 

So I drop me card in the outgoing bin, take a wee puff off me new lavender vape, and have a right chuckle to meself.

 

Just another day in Patts, where you go in to post a card to your auntie and almost end up third wheelin’ in some bird’s long-distance love triangle.

 

I appreciate you sharing that engaging and light-hearted anecdote, it added a pleasant touch to my reading.

8 hours ago, HappyExpat57 said:

I miss Bob.

 

Oh wow....glad I spotted your post...just about to say the same.

 

Bob was definitely more succinct.

1 hour ago, FolkGuitar said:

You have been a member here for 12-13 years, yet you couldn’t tell after the first paragraph that this was ANOTHER Lewie sendup?

I guess my real question is, why did you continue to read it, and then complain about it. 

You assume i read it all... i only read until i saw the true meaning of his story.. Less than halfway.. Stop assuming. You know what it really means when you assume things. 

1 minute ago, thesetat said:

You assume i read it all... i only read until i saw the true meaning of his story.. Less than halfway.. Stop assuming. You know what it really means when you assume things. 

You're correct. I did assume from your "A waste of my time reading this nonsense " post that you read it.
It makes no sense that you would complain about a post that you didn't read.
It makes even less sense that, while complaining about wasting your time, you continue to reply to me about the post, wasting even more time!

I find this interesting.  🙂

4 hours ago, bendejo said:

I was waiting for the part where you find out she has a weenie.

 

 

I think that was at the end.

Well now, all the heartbroken posters missing bob. Spoiler alert: He hasn’t disappeared. You can still bask in the glory of his masterpiece from a few days ago where he enlightened us all about his burrito-related bowel movements, a post so profound that even the admins couldn’t bear it and had to shut it down. Or, if you’re feeling nostalgic, enjoy his latest groundbreaking work from today on tourism in Thailand, a topic he's covered dozens of times before. Oh, and let's not forget his gem from yesterday about himself, naked, walking down the street shouting about Marxism. Truly, bob is a one-of-a-kind artist. I mean, where would we be without his immortal contributions to the intellectual world? We’re all so incredibly fortunate to witness his unparalleled genius in action.

7 hours ago, thesetat said:

You assume i read it all... i only read until i saw the true meaning of his story.. Less than halfway.. Stop assuming. You know what it really means when you assume things. 

When has this OP posted anything other than a 'tall' story? It would seem that everyone other than yourself knows what to expect and takes it or leaves it. I personally take it. I don't know whether you are just miserable or dim or both.

13 hours ago, daveAustin said:

nobody sends cards from Thailand anymore. Complete rip off and takes weeks. 

Takes a few days to the UK.

11 hours ago, FolkGuitar said:

12 hours ago, thesetat said:

A waste of my time reading this nonsense

Would you please explain why you read it, if you don’t like it? 

How could he know that he didn't like the nonsense without reading it?

16 hours ago, HappyExpat57 said:

I miss Bob.

 

16 hours ago, HappyExpat57 said:

I miss Bob.

 

Me too.....like toothache.

21 hours ago, FolkGuitar said:

Would you please explain why you read it, if you don’t like it? 
I’d be very interested in the psychology behind it. 

How can anyone know they don't like it until after they have read it?