Holiday in Thailand - Day Two

By : pmurphy
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Gaz asks me what happened last night as he says that everything is a blur from the Silk Bar onwards. Poor guy can’t hold his drink at all. Never has been able to. To be fair, he doesn’t blame it on the fact that he’s a short-arse, but that must have something to do with it. He also wants to know what I’m doing in Robbo’s bed, which is a fair question.

I tell him about Patpong, and the prozzies that Robbo and Deano brought back. Gaz laughs at the story, but he’ll be feeling like he’s missed out, for sure.
“I think it was that Chang that done me in. The label says it’s 6.4% alcohol. We’re only used to 4% back home.”
I don’t tease him about being a lightweight because I know that Robbo and Deano will give him enough stick about that later in the day. Having said that, the little cunt probably wouldn’t show me any mercy if the roles were reversed. Gaz is alright, but he can be a prick at times.

“What are we going to do today then?” Gaz asks me.
“We’re supposed to be meeting the others at midday at the pool, but that’s a couple of hours away.”
“Fancy some breakfast?”
“A nice big fry up would do nicely, but not in a fucking tuk tuk. There must be somewhere around here.”

We step out the hotel, and, about fifty yards to the right, we find a massive place called Gulliver’s that advertises an English breakfast. Fucking hell. After all that crap yesterday with the tuk tuk drivers, all we had to do was take a thirty-second walk.

The breakfast is on the small side, so I order an omelette and chips as well. Gaz calls me a fat bastard, so I give him a slap on the head and call him a lightweight. We talk about what we’re going to do for the next few days, and Gaz says he’d quite like to do the three-day tour in Kanchanaburi despite having shown no interest the day before.
“Sounds like it could be a bit of a laugh with all the lads riding elephants and shit like that. Yeah, why not. We’ll have to see what the other lads think though. Robbo didn’t seem keen yesterday.”
“That’s just Robbo mouthing off without thinking. He might change his mind,” I tell him, though no one can really guess what Robbo might want to do. Changes his mind like a fucking woman.

The way I see it is there’s no point in coming to a place like Thailand and just hanging about bars and getting pissed all the time. I like a drink as much as the next man, but you’ve got to see more than beaches and bars. The lads call me a poof sometimes for being interested in culture and shit, but I don’t care what they say. I like what I like and that’s that. Even if I have to go on my own, I’ll go to Kanchanaburi. There’ll be other people on the tour to have a crack with, and it might be good to be away from the other lads for a while.

After breakfast, we have a beer and play a couple of games of pool. There are a few birds around eyeing us up, but we don’t encourage them. It’s too early for any of that crap. If something happens, I’m not saying I wouldn’t go for it. I love Sharon, but I’m on holiday. I won’t go looking for a shag, but if the opportunity arises, and it’s not a prozzie, I might be tempted. Who knows? Never say never.

We go to the hotel pool at about quarter past twelve, and Robbo and Dean are on loungers supping beers.
“Alright, girls? Have you had a good morning playing with yourselves while we were getting extra blow jobs?”
Robbo’s got such a mouth on him. Other hotel guests look towards us.
“Can you say that any louder, mate?” I ask him.
“You worry too much about what other people think, Jimbo. Have a beer and relax.”
“The beer is fucking pricey here,” says Gaz. “You’re better buying stuff from the supermarket across the road. It’ll cost about five times less.”
“Are you going to spend the holiday worrying about money, you tight cunt?” asks Dean.
I don’t say anything, but I agree with Gaz. What’s the point in paying a hundred and twenty baht for a small bottle of beer when you can cross the road and get one for about twenty-five baht? One of the reasons we came here was because it’s cheaper than England. No point in paying English prices for our beers. Deano and Robbo agree, but they just open their mouths without thinking.

We pull up a couple of loungers, but I don’t really want to lie under this kind of sun for too long. It’s alright in the park on a summer’s day in England, but this is so much hotter. It’ll burn me up in no time. The guide book says that because it’s close to the equator, the rays are almost directly above, and it’s midday as well. I’ll be cooked in less than an hour. I don’t mention this to the boys because I know they’d give me a slagging, even though they’d know I was right.

I jump into the pool to cool off, and this inevitably prompts Robbo to dive bomb me, to much approval from the other two. Fair enough. It’s what you expect to happen.
“Don’t you jump in, Jimbo. You’ll empty the fucking pool,” shouts Dean.
I give him the wanker sign, which brings him dive bombing in as well. Reminds me of trips to swimming pool in Slough when we were kids. It would always end with a fight in the changing rooms. Well, it would end up with a full blown fight if it was between Robbo and Dean, but just a nipple cripple or Chinese burn for me or Gaz if we’d got too cheeky to the bigger lads. They were always the leaders of the pack and me and Gaz had to put up with being intimidated. That’s just the way things are with a group of mates. It’s the same with everyone. Just like the animal kingdom.

To avoid going beetroot red, I tell the lads I’m going back to the room for a shower and a bit of air conditioning. They must be feeling the heat too, because they agree to come back with me. Robbo puts his arm round me and tells me he did his best not to soil my sheets. He’s forgetting that we’re in a hotel, and a maid will change the sheets anyway, but I don’t point this out to him.

Once we’re all showered, we meet in the lobby to make a plan for the day. I tell them that I want to book the trip to Kanchanaburi, which means a return to the Khao San Road area. None of the others seems to care what they do, as long as they can get a beer somewhere. They haven’t bothered to look into what’s going on in Bangkok at all, so it’s up to me and the Lonely Planet to see them right.

After another hairy taxi ride, we get to Khao San Road. It’s about two in the afternoon, so we’re ready for a bit of lunch. We all break into a sweat as we walk along the road, looking for a place to have a bit of scran. We look at a couple of menus before settling on a place that has steaks and spaghetti and shit like that. I want to try some of the Thai food, but the other lads are a bit scared of it.

I order chicken and cashew nuts on rice, spring rolls and chicken satay, while the others stick with steak and chips and then moan about the small portions. We order four large Changs, and Gaz gets a ribbing about his capacity for the beer with the elephant on the front.
“You sure you want one of these, you lightweight?” says Dean as he takes Gaz’s beer from him.
“He’ll be under the table talking shit if he has more than one,” adds Robbo.
Gaz grins through clenched teeth. He knows he has to take it, but he must find it boring after all these years of being the one with the lowest tolerance for alcohol. He’s always tried gamely to keep up, but he just can’t do it.

Over lunch and beers, we try and make a plan again. Amazingly, Robbo seems to have come round to the Kanchanaburi idea after totally dismissing it yesterday. Like a fucking woman.
“I’m more into the beach and the birds, but we’ve got plenty of time. I suppose it might be a laugh. We could have elephant dung fights, and there might be some fit birds in our group. How much is it?”
“We can just go around the travel agents and find out. It will be pretty cheap, I think,” I tell him.
“What do you reckon?” Robbo asks the others.
Both nod their heads in approval.
“Well, let’s finish these beers and hit the travel agents then,” I suggest.

A bored looking girl types on a computer keyboard when we go into the first travel agent we find. She continues typing for a couple of minutes without even acknowledging our presence before Dean loses patience.
“Oi! Any chance of some fucking service round here?”
The girl looks around, screws up her face, and says, “Huh?”
“You want to learn some manners, you cheeky cow. Come on, lads. Let’s give another place our business.”
We follow Dean out, agreeing that he was right. No need to ignore people like that, even if you’re busy. I get customer service so drummed into me working at Sainsbury’s that I find myself judging other people on it. It annoys people sometimes when I make comments about it, but they usually agree with what I’m saying.

The welcome is somewhat different at the next place. Well, we’re actually welcomed. A cute girl behind the counter greets us with a smile.
“Hello, can I hel you?”
Although, she says, hel, we know she means help. We’re starting to get the hang of the ways Thais speak English. Still, Robbo has to go and open his big mouth.
“You can help me any time you want, darling. Just get on your knees and open your mouth.”
“Excue me?”
Gaz laughs, but, fortunately, the girl doesn’t seem to understand. Dean does the talking instead.
“Don’t listen to that fucker, darling. We’re here to book a tour.”
“Where you want to go?”
“What’s the place called, Jimmy?”
“Kanchanaburi?”
“Excue me?”
“Kanchanaburi,” I repeat.
She shakes her head, showing that she doesn’t understand, so I point to a picture of the place right behind her.
“Oh. Kanchanaburi,” she says in a different way.
Don’t know why it was so difficult to understand the way I said it.

She explains to us what the tour schedule is and what we get to do, and the price is only 1300 baht. 1300 baht for three days and two nights, including transport, meals and accommodation. That’s well cheap.
“Is that all?” asks Gaz.
The travel agent looks confused again.
“Forget it,” says Gaz.
She frowns slightly and tells us that we have to arrive here at seven in the morning.
“Seven in the morning?” repeats Robbo.
“Yes. Early,” says the travel agent.
“Fucking hell,” says Robbo. “I didn’t know we had to get up that fucking early.”
Neither did I, but it’s no big deal. I have to get up at half five when I’m doing the early shift at Sainsbury’s.
“Well, are we going or aren’t we?” I ask.
Gaz looks at Robbo, Dean looks around, and I get my cash out.
“Well, you can do what you like, but I’m going.”
Dean is first to back me up.
“I’m in.”
Gaz keeps looking at Robbo, before Robbo speaks up.
“Fuck it, we might as well. Be a bit different. Just have to sleep on the way.”
Not surprisingly, Gaz follows suit, and we soon have our tickets. I just hope that the others don’t start complaining and taking the piss if they’re not enjoying themselves. They’ll hold me responsible, for sure.

We wander down Khao San Road aimlessly for a few minutes before Robbo suggests going for a Thai massage. It doesn’t seem like his thing at all, but he explains that he’s been seeing a chiropractor for his bad back at home, and reckons that this might do him some good. There’s a lot of lifting and shit involved in his job, so it’s not surprising his back is fucked. He’s been laying bricks since he left school at sixteen. That’s bound to catch up with you.

I like the idea of a Thai massage, and it’s dead cheap. Only 180 baht for an hour. No idea about what it would cost in England, but it’s something I’ve always thought was for rich people at sports clubs. Imagine telling folk at home that we went for a massage together. They’d think we’d gone mad.

“I’ll come with you,” I say, expecting the others to follow.
Dean and Gaz look at each other, wondering what to do. Gaz never makes any decisions by himself. Obviously, he doesn’t want to go, otherwise he’d have followed Robbo straight away. He doesn’t want to be the only one not going, though, so he’s waiting for Dean.
“What’s it like, then?” asks Dean.
“Not really sure,” says Robbo. “It can’t be bad for you, though.”
“Do they toss you off?” asks Gaz.
“For 180 baht?” I say. “I don’t fucking think so,”
“Well, do you have to get your kit off,” Gaz asks.
Robbo puts his arm around Gaz’s neck and ruffles his hair.
“Are you scared, little man? Are you scared you get a bit excited?”
We all laugh, and Dean says he’s up for it, leaving Gaz no choice. I’m curious about what happens as well. You never know what might happen in this country. Massage seems to have so many meanings. How can you not get a bit aroused by a woman massaging you, anyway? I’m interested in knowing exactly what a Thai massage is.

We look at a couple of places, and some people sitting outside call out, “Hello, massage,” to us. Some of the birds are fit, but some are fat and ugly, and there are even a couple of guys. There’s no fucking way I’m having a bloke pawing all over me. How can that be relaxing? I wonder if you can get to choose who massages you.

We settle on a place that has only birds. Some of them are fit, but there are a few hags. We tell them we want four Thai massages for one hour, and four of them get up and show us inside. We go past the downstairs room, which seems to be a hairdressing salon, and are guided upstairs. This begins to make me wonder about what kind of massage we’re going to get, but one look at the bird that Gaz has been stuck with reminds me that these birds are not here to look good.

We end up in a room with a load of foreigners already being massaged, so there’s no question of any hanky panky. My masseuse, who’s fairly shaggable, though not beautiful, passes me a pair of pyjama-type things to wear. Me and the others crowd into the tiny changing room and get our usual kits off and our new kits on.
“Should we keep our pants on?” asks Dean.
“You mean you’re wondering how a hard on will look in these trousers?” says Robbo.
I’ve got a pair of Y-Fronts on, and I’m keeping them on. If I get aroused, at least the Y-Fronts will keep me less prominent.
“Well, I suppose so,” says Dean and laughs.
“I’d keep them on if I was you,” I say. “Could get a bit embarrassing in there.”
“I don’t think I need to worry about my masseuse giving me a hard on,” says Gaz.
“You never know, Gaz. She might have magic in her fingers,” I say, and we all laugh.

Back out in the air-conditioned massage room, we get shown to a mattress each. It’s really quiet, but Robbo starts making comments about his masseuse’s fingers being wrinkly.
“She looks about twenty, but she’s got fucking hands like my gran.”
Mine starts off at my feet, but quickly moves up my legs and the insides of my thighs, and pauses for a long time with her hands pressing into my groin and thumbs resting in my pubic area. It might not be a sex massage, but with a young bird’s hands in that position, my cock can only harden. I feel a bit embarrassed and hope that the girl doesn’t notice, but every time she goes up towards my groin, her hand brushes against my sack or knob, and I can’t go limp.

“Am I the only one with a hard on?” shouts Robbo, raising tuts from a couple of Scandinavian looking birds in the corner.
Me and the other lads can’t help laughing, but try to stifle it. I don’t really want to admit to having a hard on, but Robbo has no shame about some things.
“Is she touching you bollocks as well?” He booms.
We keep laughing, but I hope that he stops. It’s supposed to be a place of relaxation, and no one else is making a sound. His masseuse puts her finger over her mouth to tell him to be quiet, and he nods his head.
“Let me know when you’re coming,” says Dean, and we all laugh again.

Fortunately, we manage to get ourselves together again and stop the joking around. Once my bird has finished with my thighs and finished tickling my balls and knob accidentally, I can relax more and stop worrying about my erection. She massages my arms, back and shoulders, then my neck and head, and we do some mad gymnastic type moves to stretch my back. Dean grunts heavily as he does these, and Robbo complains that it hurts.

When we’re done, we go downstairs and pay, all leaving a twenty baht tip, which gets us a bow and the old praying gesture. Makes you feel important when they do that. I like it.
Back on the street, the inevitable discussion is about where to have the next beer, but I use my Lonely Planet knowledge to suggest going on the river boat.
“How much does it cost?” asks Gaz.
“Is that you being tight again?” says Dean.
“I’m just fucking asking,” replies Gaz, beginning to get exasperated by the stick he’s been taking.
“It’s not much, I don’t think,” I tell them. “About ten baht or something. We can get it down the river and get off and take the sky train back to the hotel and go for a beer around there. That place we went for breakfast would be a good place for a drink, and it’s just next to the hotel.”
I’m saying this because I’d prefer to be next to the hotel. We should get all our stuff together for the trip before we get drunk tonight. Anyway, I want to go to bed fairly early, so I don’t want to be stuck far from the hotel with the other lads.
The lads look at each other and shrug their shoulders.
“Well, let’s follow the leader,” says Dean.
“We’ll get some beers for the journey, though, eh?” says Robbo.
“There’s a Seven Eleven over there,” Gaz tells us. “Let’s pile in there.”
“Are you sure you can afford a beer,” says Robbo.
“Fuck off,” says Gaz, who then gets his hair ruffled roughly by Robbo.

I lead the lads to the pier successfully. It is a bit a hike from Khao San Road, but the boat arrives quite quickly, and we think it’s the right one. There are loads of people on it, and a grumpy woman comes round asking for fares. Dean hands her a hundred baht note and indicates that it’s for the four of us. She scowls and hands over our tickets and the change. Don’t know what her problem is. Maybe she doesn’t like the fact that we’re all drinking from big bottles of Chang, and the fact that Robbo has his top off. We see some cool temples on the riverside, and the lads seem to quite enjoy doing something a bit different again. It’s been a decent day so far. At least we haven’t been holed up in a pub.

We get off the boat and get on to the sky train at Saphan Thaksin station. Nana is quite a few stations away, and we have to change at Siam. Robbo was wanting to get beers for the journey, but there’s a no food and drink sign at the station. It’s such an English thing to have to be drinking all the time. You don’t see many other nationalities doing that.

Before we go back to the hotel, we nip into the supermarket for a couple of beers and some crisps, and agree to meet up again on mine and Dean’s balcony in half and hour. In the rooms, we get all our stuff packed up and ready for the tour. We don’t know where we’ll be staying after Kanchanaburi, but we figure we’ll just kip in one of the guest houses around Khao San then move onto somewhere else the day after we get back. We’ve been talking about Pattaya and Ko Samui. I’d prefer Ko Samui because I’ve heard that Pattaya is a dive. I won’t spend more than a day or two if we go there.

We end up spending a couple of hours on the balcony, which is quite relaxing. I volunteer to do a beer run to the supermarket at one point to fill us up again. There’s none of the usual slagging each other off or picking on someone, which is what makes it relaxing, I suppose. Robbo is in a quieter mood too so that gives us a bit of respite from his constant showing off. He’s just happy supping his Chang, guzzling his Pringles, and making the occasional comment about being hungry.

It’s about eight o’clock by the time we decide to make a move. At the reception desk of the hotel, we ask for a six o’clock alarm call, something that causes a few groans at the reminder of the penalty for going on the trip.
“Fucking six o’clock,” Gaz moans. “I can’t remember the last time I got up that early. I go to bed at six o’clock more often that I get up then.”
“Not last night,” I say, kicking off the slagging again. I couldn’t resist it, and the others laugh.
“Yeah, you were sleeping by six in the evening last night, Gazza,” adds Dean.
“It wasn’t fucking six o’clock,” says Gaz.
“Let’s cut the crap, lads. I’m fucking starving. Where’s this Gulliver’s place then?” says Robbo.

We get into Gulliver’s, and it’s much busier than this morning, not surprisingly. It’s mostly Western foreigners here, but there are a few blacks and Arabs and Indians as well. The only Thais are tarted up birds looking for a pull. Some of them are quite tasty, but a lot of them are really hard-faced. They’re the types you can imagine bleeding you dry for every penny you’ve got.

We get in our Changs and order some food. I go for a cheeseburger and chips with a Thai soup called Tom Kha Gai as my starter. It doesn’t come under the list of starters, but soup’s always a starter in England, isn’t it? The other lads stick to familiar food as usual. They’re so fucking scared of the unknown. Don’t know what they’re going to do in the next couple of days because I don’t think we’re going to be cooking burgers and steaks on the tour.

The food’s not bad, but I have to order some ice cream to make sure I’m completely full. I could really fucking eat forever sometimes. I just love food. Sharon moans at how much my appetite costs us, but it’s no fun starving yourself. I actually tried to give up eating lunch for a week once, but I lasted a day. It’s a fucking killer walking around just thinking about your hunger. I’d rather be fat than hungry, that’s for sure.

After a couple of hours of pitcher after pitcher, running out of conversation, and staring at the tennis on the giant screen, Dean suggests going somewhere with more birds. I tell him that there are plenty of birds here, and that they are looking for guys like us, but he says he wants birds in bikinis that will rub his balls if he buys them a drink. Robbo agrees, and so, inevitably, does Gaz. I’m not that keen on the idea because it might mean a later night than I wanted, but there’s a place called Nana Plaza, which I read about in the Lonely Planet, not far from here. That would be a better option than Patpong.

I tell the lads about Nana Plaza, and, once again, they tell me I’m the leader, and that they will follow. I’m not exactly sure how to get there, but reckon we can walk it. The nearest sky train station is called Nana, so it can’t be too far. I could go back up to the hotel room to check the Lonely Planet, but the lads would surely complain. Just have to ask someone; preferably not a taxi driver.

We walk towards the main road, but stop at the hotel to ask our doorman if he can tell us the way to Nana Plaza.
“You want taxi?” He asks.
“Well is it far?” I ask him.
“Is far,” he says. “Taxi better.”
I don’t really trust this guy. If we get a taxi from here, they’ll do that big fucking U-turn thing that took ages last night.
“Can we walk? Which way is it?”
“Walking very far. Taxi better.”
I explain to the other lads that it’s not far at all, and that I reckon the doorman is just trying to get a commission out of a taxi driver, so we agree to ask someone else. Robbo turns and calls him a “fucking wanker” before leaving, but the doorman waves back smiling, oblivious to the insult.

We ask a couple of people selling stuff on the street, and they point us in the general direction. We then ask a couple of foreigners the way, and they’re a lot more specific with the details. One of them, who I think is German or Swedish or something like that, tells us that it’s “fucking awesome.” We have to cross to the other side of the road and walk about another fifty yards before arriving.

Nana Plaza is a fucking dazzling courtyard type place with three floors. There are tarts everywhere in short denim skirts trying to get us into their bars, but there are no dancers in bikinis.
“This looks fucking cool,” says Gaz, who didn’t experience Patpong.
“But where are all the tits?” booms Robbo.
We notice a few curtains behind the bars, and figure that there must be some action behind them.

After a peek behind a curtain reveals birds on stage, we dive in. It’s a small place, and there are not many customers. The birds on stage look bored, and no one approaches us, which is quite a contrast with the mobbings we got last night. After one beer, we decide to move upstairs in an attempt to find something a bit livelier.

On the second floor, all the bars look much the same. I’m feeling a bit tired and am tempted to head back, but it would be bad form to bail out this early. I just don’t see the point in sitting in one of these pokey little places watching birds not even bothering to dance. You can’t really talk to each other either because you don’t get a table. You just sit in a row, all facing the stage. It would be alright if there was something to see, but there are no tits or fannies. Just not particularly attractive birds in bikinis.

Despite the lack of action, we go into one of these bars and order a beer for something to do. Robbo and Dean start complaining and talking about going back to Patpong, but I’m not up for that, though Gaz is keen as well. An old tart tries to get talking to Dean, but he brushes her off. There’s a foreign guy in the corner, who must be about sixty, sitting with a young bird who could be his granddaughter. That kind of thing bothers me. It’s not so bad for us young guys, but it’s disgusting to imagine these fat old fuckers thrusting into these girls.

We decide to try the third floor, but the others agree that if it’s no good, they’ll jump in a taxi and head to Patpong. Before going upstairs, I go for a piss. The old foreigner follows me into the bog and asks me what think about Bangkok. I tell him I think the place is alright, but that I’m not too impressed with the bars of Nana Plaza.
“You should try the third floor, buddy. It’s not as good as it used to be, but at least they still have shows, though they’re not half as explicit as before. Man, I could tell you some stories about this place before they cracked down on everything. Jeez, it was a riot. There was this one bar with an aquarium that had naked girls swimming around in it. Oh man, that was awesome.”
I get the impression the guy could talk all night, so explain that my mates will be waiting for me.
“Okay, buddy. Head for the third floor.”
I tell him that I will and then inform the others of the conversation.

It’s a bit livelier on the third floor, and the bar we go into is much bigger. There are a few birds on stage covering themselves in water from beer bottles, wet T-shirt style. At least they’re trying. There are quite a lot of fit birds wandering around in bikinis, so that might keep the lads happy. We can sit at a table here and have a craic as well.

It doesn’t take long to be approached by some birds, and Gaz is first to have someone sitting on his knee. She introduces herself to all of us as Bun or something like that. Can’t really make out what she’s saying, to be honest. I’ve got a bird massaging my shoulders, but I’m not really into this shit tonight. I’d rather have a craic than have to talk to one of these girls again. The one I spoke to last night was nice enough, but I just ended up feeling sorry for her. I’m not on holiday to feel like that. I want to relax and have a good time.

Some of the shows are actually quite interesting, with a fair bit of lesbianism and wet bikinis on show, and even some body painting for the artistic people around. Gaz has started snogging his bird, and he’s also looking pretty wasted again. He’ll have to be looked after. Suppose it will have to be me that does it as the others are too selfish to do that kind of thing. They’ll just say the he’ll be fine, ignoring the fact that he’s got to get up at six in the morning, and that he has bird hanging onto him who wants his cash.

Dean and Robbo have birds beside them, but they’re pretty much ignoring them, and the three of us can at least have a chat. Dean says that he’s not going to bother taking anyone home tonight because he reckons he doesn’t want to spend too much money too soon.
“Fuck’s sake, Deano, it only costs about twenty quid for the night. Can you imagine how much you’d have to pay a decent looking bird in England for the night?” says Robbo.
“Yeah, but we’ve got eleven more nights. It gets a bit expensive if it’s every night.”
“Well, you won’t be whoring for the next two nights, will you?” Robbo adds.
“Look, I just can’t be arsed, that’s all.”
I’m quite glad to hear this. At least Dean is showing he can be his own man.
Gaz tells us that he wants to go back to the hotel with his tart, but it’s only midnight, which means he has to pay the bar a “fine” as they call it. It seems to be some kind of compensation payment for taking the girl out of the bar. I remind Gaz that we have to get up at six in the morning, but he tells me that he’s just going to give her one and ask her to leave. He says she’s already agreed to do it for a thousand baht. She’ll probably have time to come back here and try for another pick up before the night is out.
I take the chance to go home early by saying that I should make sure that Gaz gets back okay. Surprisingly, Robbo and Dean both decide to call it a day too.
“Patpong was much better,” moans Robbo on the way back to the hotel.
I agree, though the last place tonight was not that bad. The vibe is different, though. The girls at Patpong are a lot more aggressive about getting money out of you in one way or another. The birds at Nana seemed a bit less obsessed with asking for drink after drink.

We spot a guy with what looks like a kebab on the main road, and Dean is in his face straight away.
“A kebab! Where did you get that mate?”
The guy points him up in the right direction and tells him it’s about fifty yards away.
“How much are they?”
“Fifty baht.”
“Fifty baht, that’s less than a quid. Wicked. Cheers, mate.”

I’m pretty chuffed with the news that we can get a kebab, so we all head for the kebab place, which seems to annoy Gaz’s bird.
“We go now for boom boom. No have time.”
Gaz blearily looks at us and tells us he’s going straight back to the hotel to finish his assignment. He’s the fucking customer, so it should be him calling the shots, not her. He’s that type of guy, though. If he ever gets married, he’ll definitely be a hen-pecked husband.

The kebab seller, who seems to be an Arab, is operating on the street, and it’s great to see the old spinning stick and the big knife cutting off slices. The kebabs we get are a bit on the small side, but they’re well tasty. I could have probably done with two.

Before going back to the hotel, we get a beer from the supermarket for a nightcap, and Robbo comes into our room to drink while waiting for Gaz to finish his business.

Once I’m in a horizontal position, I’m ready for a sleep and quickly forget about the can of beer that I’ve just opened.

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