Worlds Apart

Western women, yesterday
Western women, yesterday

For reasons too depressing to reveal, I was playing host to some visitors to Bangkok recently. A coach party of Issan nymphomaniacs, lost en route to a Bangkok support centre? Sadly not. A gang of Japanese businessmen, so eager to find a bar guide that they’d happily supply me with more beer and women than even I could possibly consume? Again, no.

It seems my karma must have taken a hit recently. They were western girls – friends of a friend, who were in Bangkok for a few days, and in need of a guide. The horror.

Culture Shock

“We want to see a ping-pong show”, one of them told me. I groaned. Mindful of an unpleasant recent Patpong show-bar experience, I thought I’d play it safe and take them to the Long Gun on Soi Cowboy. Oddly enough, ping-pong balls are actually one of the few imaginable projectiles that are not part of the Long Gun’s inventive and imaginative gynaecological demonstrations.

The fat farangettes seemed comfortable enough with the shows, but had their first major hissy fit at the sight of a middle-aged guy (I’d guess late forties or early fifties) smooching with a twenty-something Thai girl. “That’s disgusting”, they frothed.

“Why is it disgusting? I hope I’m still sleeping with twenty-something Thai girls when I’m fifty. Better than sleeping with fifty-something Western women, any day. Now that would be disgusting”.

They couldn’t tell me exactly why I was wrong, but were sure that I definitely was.

Two Fat Ladies, Eighty-eight

Another bar, another bombshell. “Why have the girls all got number badges on?”, she asked.

I laughed. “Um, so that customers can make an order”, I grinned.

“Oh, so you can call them over for a lap-dance then?”

“Er, no. We don’t really have lap-dancing in Bangkok. Not that I know of, anyway. There’s no point”.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, why would you pay for a lap-dance when you can have full sex for less than the cost of a single dance in the UK?”


Natural Selection

“This is disgusting. I wouldn’t sleep with any of these disgusting guys for any money”, she said.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure none of them will ask you to sleep with them”, I just about managed to stop myself from replying.

Never again…

Bringing The Missus

It’s an all-too-common sight, but it still cracks me up every time. I’ll be sat in one of Bangkok’s gogo bars, with a beer in hand, when the curtain opens and a farang couple walk in.

They’ve probably had a romantic overpriced Thai meal somewhere, a few drinks, and decided they “might as well” sample the naughty nightlife. And it all begins so innocently. They’re all grins and smiles, they wai the waitresses and the dancers in healthy measure, and eventually sit down facing the stage. This is when I usually start the stopwatch.

Because within minutes, the bloke is going to be physically drooling at the lovelies on stage, and his lady-friend’s initial good-natured smile is going to droop into some kind of primeval snarl. Outnumbered and outgunned, her sexual universe has been turned inside-out. She probably considers herself quite a catch at home, but is slowly realising that the only men looking at her are openly smirking at her discomfort. White women are invisible in Thailand.

The bloke is eventually dragged out of the bar, usually after just one drink – which he may, if he’s lucky, be permitted to finish. You’ve got to feel for him. A friend of mine visited Thailand with his farang girlfriend a while back, and later confessed that his one abiding memory of the trip was the regret at not having the balls to sneak out of the hotel and hook up with a Thai girl while his girlfriend slept.

Try spotting the couples out and about in Bangkok, and guessing how long they’ve been here. If they look relatively happy, they’ve probably just arrived. After the first day or two though, the woman is generally pulling a face like a slapped arse, and the bloke is staring at every Thai girl that passes by when he thinks the missus isn’t looking, silently wondering whether he could, just possibly, come here alone next time…