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1
A Fable of Woe from the Fraught Streets of Pattaya
Fun times. And you are braver than I getting on 2 wheels in this town full of drunk and incompetent drivers. 🤣 -
2
Pattaya. Where?
Have you looked at the latest YouTube videos of beach road freelancers? many posted every day, ladies look better than ever Stay in soi post office as before, hasn't changed much in 7 years -
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No more need to comment/speculate about the faith of the Ukraine.
Thanks for that. I never heard it used in that context before. -
165
Updates and events in the War in Ukraine 2025
I did a quick search about that, but not able to ascertain why you think it is so serious, given it didn't result in widespread contamination, or an explosion. Perhaps you can educate us as to why it is so serious? -
165
Updates and events in the War in Ukraine 2025
I don't know that MAGA is the "enemy within", rather the hordes of uneducated aliens invited in by our lords and masters. Shades of the fall of Rome when the mercenaries hired to protect Rome decided to take it over. Regardless, I agree that whatever the cause, the west is doomed, too much debt, too much corruption to walk it back, and the political will is with the liberal ethos, no matter how barking. Trump may well halt the liberal tide for a while, but in the end another Canute. Any society that seriously considered that a man can actually BE a woman is IMO in the end stages, never mind the covid lockdown insanity and the man made climate fiasco. Spending all the people's money on war doesn't help. Every million $ missile is money NOT spent on improving citizen's lives. Trump may hasten the fall of the American era, or not, but the end is coming, and it's not going to be pretty. -
1
A Fable of Woe from the Fraught Streets of Pattaya
Another satirical tribute in fond memory of the original, hapless, Bob Smith. His waylaid wisdom is greatly missed, wherever his rugged adventures may now be taking him… Alright, lads, gather ‘round, cause I need to vent, yet again. Last night was meant to be one for the books. My old mate Gary-the-Gimp is back in town from Birmingham, so we did what any respectable, upstanding pair of English country gentlemen would do, we hit Soi 6 for a few cold bevies and a bit of cultural, happy-ending enrichment. Started off alright, a few frosty tins at a loud, packed bar, some fun and games, rubbed up against much of the local female talent, some of them ladyboys, Gimps doesn't mind them, and you know how it goes (I boom boom you, ok?). Nothing too crazy, just a respectable night out between two fine, worldly, British scholars sharing knowledge. Meanwhile, after we’d had our fill of fraternizing with all the happy slappers, we decided to call it a night like the responsible, posh blokes that we are. Gimps stumbles off in one direction for his hotel with his wife-of-the-night in tow, and I, alone, tapped out, and in my infinite Asian-old-hand wisdom, head to the end of Soi 6/1 by Second Road to hop a motorbike taxi and quickly get back home to the eagerly awaiting mrs. smith. And that’s where the night took a harrowing sharp turn. I grab one of these helmetless hooligans, tell him where I live (clearly and politely, IN THAI, mind you), I know he at least understood when I said the second word in the name of my apt block "Mansion" because he repeated it back to me "Mann-Chunnn!". Then I hopped on the back and well, lads, let me tell you, I might as well have signed up for a zip-line wedgie. This absolute lunatic, prolly on meth, wearing only flip-flops and loose, baggy, football trousers, took off like he was being chased by the village headman. Zero regard for potholes, speed bumps, or human life. Every time we hit a divot, I felt my spine pop itself back out again. At one point, I swear we caught air. It was like racing in the sidecar division at the TT Races over on the Isle innit. I’m gripping on for dear life, internally drafting my own obituary, thinking, “This is it, this is how the great bob smith taps out and leaves this earth with a smear, splattered across Pattaya Second Road like a poorly made kebab with lots of extra ketchup.” Then, to top it all off, the plonker takes me to the wrong apartment block. I glance down at the shiny, new Rolex on my wrist, it's already 2:20 am, and I tell him, “No, mate, not this mansion.” The geezer just laughs at me, turns around, and speeds off again, taking me on another scenic detour, this time through half of the abandoned buildings on Third Road. By the time we finally get to MY flat on the backside of Buakhao, I’m shaken, battered, and questioning every life decision that ever led me to this moment. And THEN, oh, and get this, the best part of it all, the little rice-rocket-jockey tries to fleece me. The ride should’ve been 60 baht max. The git knows it. I know it. He tells me 200. 200 BATH!? That much for a journey that nearly ended in my untimely demise and almost had me doing my shorts into a state? And for the mere pleasure of having my internal organs rearranged? I tell him “Mate, you’re having a laugh.” He starts getting shirty, raising his voice, acting like I’m an unreasonable Cheap-Charlie. At this point, I’m knackered, butt-bruised from the ride, half snookered from all the Leo, and I’m not about to get into a street scuffle with a 5-foot-nothing Somchai in front of my flat over a mere 140 baht grift attempt. So I throw the arse-hat 100 just to get rid of the tosser, and he speeds off shouting "farang key-nok", probably to go on to terrorize another poor, drunken sod. So, I ask you, boys, is it just me? Or has basic decency already gone out the window here in The Land of Smiles? You try to support the locals, buy their services, spread the quid around, try to do things right for the struggling and working classes of this country, in a dignified way, with kindness and politeness, and this is the treatment you get? No manners, no respect, just outright piss-taking??? Really??? sigh bob.
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