On the origin of clichés… by Human Tsunami

Some memories haunt me. One such memory is sitting in a dark Bangkok bar watching a ladyboy helicoptering her schlong on stage while making light saber noises.

“Jesus.” whispered Imprint in a hunted voice “Did you know these birds were blokes?”

We were perched in the middle row at Obsession in Nana Plaza studiously avoiding eye contact with the array of war painted amazon warriors tottering around in stripper heels. Owen, the drunk Welshman we’d somehow adopted on the way from the burger stand to the back of the plaza, had his face buried in the ample bosom of a hulking katoey. He was making sounds like a pig digging for truffles.

“Do you reckon he knows?”

“No.” I replied

Owen grinned at us drunkenly. The beast he was slobbering on stood up and slowly peeled back the cheeks of it’s ass in a fashion not unlike a diver opening a giant clam.

Imprint’s eyes were screaming. Check bin!

Stumbling outside through the wall of groping hands we crashed headlong into the
plaza. Pig Dog cast us a knowing look and snorted with disgust.

“He no lie you” offered a dark spinner with a fluorescent, thousand watt smile.


Time to hit Cowboy…

There are many things in this world that are impossible. Licking your own elbow, for example, or making rope out of sand. In fact, legends of old speak of the impossible deeds undertaken by heroes to prove their worthiness to the pantheon of Olympian gods. None of these utterly impossible tasks are nearly as impossible as getting a Bangkok cab driver to take you where you actually want to go.

“Where you go boss?” snapped Bob, our driver

“Soi Cowboy, please.” I said “Use the meter.”

Bob slammed the car into gear and shot off down Soi Nana. Beggars, soi dogs and ropey freelancers ran screaming for their lives as we turned in completely the wrong direction and accelerated to warp speed on Sukhumvit Road. After a few tense minutes we slid to a halt in a dark street that looked suspiciously nothing like Soi Cowboy.

“You want lady?” inquired Bob through a grin like a smashed piano.

Cheeky old cunt.

“Soi Cowboy.” Repeated Imprint soberly “Use the meter.”

The cab lurched to the left and rocketed down a side street. In the distance Lumpini stadium rose over the horizon like an enormous middle finger. Bob was taking us for a ride.

Forty minutes later we pulled up outside Old Dutch on Soi 23. Owen had been sitting in the front seat playing songs on his ipod and offering loud karaoke renditions to our (now) distraught driver the whole way.

“No meter” cackled Bob, in a move straight out of the Big Book of Dead Crafty Thai Cab Driver Tricks “You pay me tree hundra an pipty baht”

“Fifty baht” slurred Owen thickly from the front seat

“Two hundra baht” Fired back Bob.

We left them to figure it out and wandered off down Cowboy towards the glittering lights of Shark.

Imprint and I parked ourselves in the booth across from the end of the stage and ordered a couple of beers. Owen sauntered in a few moments later and splayed out across the booth next to ours like a dominant male walrus proudly claiming his strip of beach. He had a black eye.

“Paid the bastard 50 baht” he chortled and ordered four buckets of ping pong balls. The gaggle of white shirted serving girls milling around in front of him squeeled with delight and ran off to retrieve his purchase.

Three cuties wandered over, waied sweetly and plopped themselves down on our laps. Drinks were ordered. The unpleasant memory of earning Pig Dog’s chagrin was beginning to fade. Things were improving. In fact, everything was fantastic until a gigantic, heaving sack of a man flopped down next to us.

“Jah Halo where har yew from?” it wobbled while scrubbing at it’s brow with a
stained handkerchief.

“What… the… fuck?” stammered Imprint as he picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Jah my narme iz Klaus and I arm from deutschland… do joo like ze thaigurlz?”

Owen laughed and poured a bucket of ping pong balls over his own head with the sort of defiant, hedonisic abandon reserved only for the very drunk.

The German sex tourist planted his hand on the ass of the girl sitting on my lap and gave it a generous squeeze. She turned around, winked at me and continued to bop away.

“Steady on mate” I said.

“Jah budee I don’t see joor name on her!!!” replied Klaus and gave her buttock another grope.

The girl turned around and noticed that the paw crushing her ass cheek was attached to the end of Klaus’ meaty arm. For a moment she looked confused – then she started to scream.

Moving right along to After Skool…

My buddy Vinnie had found us on Cowboy and was now part of our inebriated entourage. Since we’d been naughty boys, we figured it was only fitting that we stop in for a bit of discipline before calling it a night.

Stumbling into After Skool we were immediately accosted by a mob of tiny brown women wearing even tinier school uniforms.

“You sit” exclaimed Noi as she shoved me onto a bar stool. Noi looked like she might have had one too many tequila cokes.

Vinnie was already being hauled off to the naughty boy’s corner by a pair of Isaan princesses. Imprint and Owen were bailed up near the bar fending off the fevered advances of the rest of the girls in the bar.

Noi started grinding her pussy on my leg and licking the side of my face with about as much sex appeal as an excited labrador.

“You buy dlink me.” She slurred determinedly

“Erm…. no, I think you’ve had enough already”

Noi leveled her eyes at me and started humping my leg with increased gusto.

“You buy dlink me.” She mumbled.

“No” I replied.

The mama-san screamed something in Thai and hurled a tea towel at Noi.

Noticing the opening, Owen and Imprint made a break for the door. I looked back just in time to see Vinnie being engulfed by a horde of bar girls and decided to join the retreat.

“Fuck!” yelled Owen, looking like a ruffled chicken in the neon twilight of Soi Cowboy “That place is awesome… who wants a kebab?”

Sukhumvit Soi 5

Imprint and I sat in stunned silence as Owen finished wolfing down his fourth chicken kebab and took a slug from a long neck of Beer Chang.

“What a fucking night” He belched

“Yeah, it was alright” replied Imprint

“Don’t think you’ll need any extra sauce on your kebab though, mate” Owen said and winked at me


He pointed at the leg of my pants and laughed.

I finally realised why the mama-san had been throwing things at Noi.


35 thoughts on “On the origin of clichés… by Human Tsunami”

  1. Nothing says rockin’ good time like a little blood on your trousers…just hope they werent too high quality cotton.

  2. Wonderful read. Bit rough with the German sex tourist stereotype though. From your description it sounds like Klaus was more likely to be into cannibalism and just testing the quality of meat before taking home for cooking.

  3. I fucking hate those taxi driver scumbags. Those cunts need teaching a lesson

    Refuse to pay, and leave his doors open. When he gets out to shut them, punch him in the back of the head, and stomp the cunts guts out, then run away into the night like a little girl.

  4. yea the Kraut cliche was off… They never say “I am flom ze Deutschland”, they say “JUhl-many”. when they are not groping your bunny they are Dr. Strangelove-style holding the right arm from reflexively doing the zeig-heil salute…

  5. @barry – thanks!
    @gi man – nah, they were shit, don’t worry
    @YP – you frighten me.
    @Datou & FUMF – you guys would be surprised, but that shit actually happened. I’m not sure what the guy’s name was but other than that the rest is pretty much verbatim. The fat cunt got us turfed out of shark with his antics.

  6. @ YP Right on YP…had many an argument with the taxi cu*ts. It’s not the money so much as the wasted time that these bastards think they can waste on your behalf. Crazy thing is that if they get me where I want to go fast they get hansomely rewarded.

    @HT Drunk Welshman knew exactly where he was…..follow his lead and next time ‘fill your boots’ and ‘deliver the evil’

  7. Strangers grabbing hold of a man’s Isaan companion while she is on his lap, or just enjoying the lady-drink he has generously bought, is clearly poor etiquette. Even if sitting in a huge whore house. Reminds me of a drunk Russian who took a shine to the newly bar-fined love of my life in Sweethearts, Pattaya. Bold as brass he stumbled over to my one true love while the two of us were whispering sweat nothings in each other’s ears and started to grope her breasts, real slow. Then after making some facial expressions similar to a merchant assessing a hand-full of horse-feed, he rammed his hand down her nickers. Finally he called over the mamasan…”OK yes, I take this one” C*NT.

  8. When i leave this island (samui) im going to order a taxi,pretend im a newbie,as to really get ripped off ,get dropped off in the parking lot,smash the driver over the head with mt cricket bat,shove him in the boot and snap off the key,but rob him first,and write som nam na on his forhead with a black texter,call it revenge compleated .

  9. No matter how drunk you are never, never, take a taxi from Soi 4 to CB or 33. Never!!!! Unless you want to take a tour of Bangkok or are planing on throwing up in the cab.

  10. You certainly need to be careful with taxi’s but I have to say that I haven’t had one bad experience with taxis since I’ve been here, knock wood. I’ve taken the soi 4-CB/33 many many times and never had an issue. I don’t do anything special, just open the door, tell them where I want to go, and if it’s late I will ask “Meter Mai?” (use the meter?). If we are in agreement then it’s a go. These taxis, for me anyway, are the best taxis in the world. They are clean and super cheap. I’m just sayin. 🙂

  11. Re: the Soi 4 to CB taxi trip, for the newbies just make sure you don’t actually get in the taxi within Soi 4. Taxis are not legally permitted to turn right onto Suk so the driver has all the incentive to turn left and take you on the grand Bangkok tour in order to get to CB. Instead walk out of the Soi and across to the other side of Suk and get the taxi there.

    Or you could be a fit cunt like YP and do the 15 minute strut – far healthier I’m told.

  12. The trouble I usually get in with taxi drivers is never in the farang areas.

    mWhat really fucking gets under my skin, is when they tell you they know the area they are taking you 2, and the thick fucks take you somewhere totally different, and have a dopey fucking smurk/smile on their gourmless faces, when they have wasted 30minutes of your life which you will never get back, and demand you pay them.

    All of these cunts should be piled into 1 huge mega taxi, and driven off the end of a big cliff. Then demanded to pay up

  13. All Taxi drivers are cunts and not just in Bangkok it applies the world over. I am currently in Dubai where they are even more cuntish in their attempts to rip you off and to top it off most of them smell as if they have shat themselves three days ago and are still wearing the same underwear.

  14. In What’s Up agogo I had just bought a lady drink for one of the crazier and drunk/yabba’d up girls. As she’s riding me, the guy next to us decides he can start groping her ass.

    She notices, doesn’t like it, and tells him to stop. He touches her again and she slaps his hand away and tells him to f*ck off. He gets angry and says some shit back to her so this time she spits a little of her drink on him.

    He quietly grabbed his drink and walked away.

  15. “…watching a ladyboy helicoptering her schlong on stage while making light saber noises.”

    And people ask me why the Galactic Empire killed off all the Jedi!

    Many years ago I, as a newbee, jumped in a cab and asked to be taken to the Embassy (Korean taxi drivers understood what us GIs were talking about, and I naively thought Thai drivers here would be the same). After many twists and turns down dark streets and scary alleys, my Thai Fighter pilot screeches to a halt outside some hostess club called The Embassy. At this point even a double face palm just wouldn’t have sufficed.

    That being said, I agree with Pmmp. The taxis Stateside charge about $2 per mile, and the driver is usually from Kurdistan or Bangladesh and is just making money for his local cell of Al-Queida. When you can get one to stop. Thailand, Korea and Singapore are probably the top taxi providing nations in my book.

    Oh, and drunk German tourists screwing with you or your gal need to be kicked in the balls while you shout “ACHTUNG – SPITFIRE!!!” That normally sends them running for cover.

  16. No different to those german twats are the farang peanuts who walk up to my wife when I go to take a piss in a nightclub / bar and ask her either one of two things – “how much?” or “what’s your phone number”..

    If they ask her how much, I have trained her to respond with “I dont know, how much does your sister charge?”.

    No, I am not german.!

  17. @ UCW – he’s probably a frog. Or a kiwi.

    @ LtD – so, she is still free to give her phone number then?

  18. Have to admit I do love the taxis in Bangkok.

    Try getting back to the UK and coughing up a tenner for a 100 baht ride. That really hurts.

  19. @PrP – The taxi drivers in BKK are much better than the turds buzzing around in clapped out Protons in Malaysia. Toothless chinese uncles, or smelly malay cunts with Ned Flanders moustaches. They would sooner slash their mother throats than turn on the meter

    Sidenote – I walked down cowboy tonight, and their was a lot of police about. Dont know if that spells trouble, or means their wont be any tits and cunt on display

  20. Walk down Soi 4 to Pedestrian Xing on Sukumvit then cross to Soi 3 cnr. Walk on road (behind the stalls)a few metres from the lights. Taxis a plenty and usually around 40 Bht to take you to Cowboy.

  21. If you take a cab from Nana to Cowboy, you’re missing out on one of the most fertile and spectacular landscapes Thailand has to offer. STROLL into the warm, sunlit uplands. MARVEL at the teeming wildlife. SAMPLE the many delights at the welcoming oases along the way.

    (Still trying to lick my own elbow here – how hard can it be?)

  22. Double-Dip: Just noticed this from our cute anime mascot Penfold:
    “punch him in the back of the head, and stomp the cunts guts out, then run away into the night like a little girl.”
    Penfold is capable of performing only one of these actions. He’s well practiced at it.

  23. I’m always amazed at the amount of mongers that have trouble with Thai taxis. Me thinks the windbags are receiving their just karma.

  24. Agree to cross the street (Suk) before going to Cowboy from Nana- you guys are noobs for doing the Rama IV loop.

    Like PMMP, I ask Pai Meter Mai or sometimes ‘P, Pai Meter mai to make it more friendly… if the answer is Mai Pai no hard feelings- usually it’s off we go.

    I did have one experience where I got into the taxi and they guy didn’t switch on the meter but started driving. Told him pai meter and he switched it on but drove like a reckless idiot crossing lanes at full speed in his buzzed out piece of shit toyota. I actually gave him a tip though for getting us there quickly and alive.

    Gotta love the grab bag you get with BKK taxis.

    As YP said BKK taxis are much better than KL (hate the Muslims & Indians as they usually cheat you, the old Malaysian chinese most often use the meter and get a big tip fromm me while the others get an angry lecture).

    Singapore is dead easy for taxis and not that expensive with the exception of the million surcharges.


  25. PRP – I didn’t know daywalker was back to driving taxis again!

    jeezo – singapore sucks – maybe the taxis, minus the stupid amount of lame ass surcharges, are the only bright spot

    taxis in KL are the worst!

    HT – nice post!

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