Thailand All the World Surpasses

With all its sinful doings, I must say,
That Thailand is a pleasant place to be:
I love to see the sun shine every day,
Drink Singha in a beer bar in Soi see,
Watch the girls who offer pay-for-play
And wonder if there’s one who’s right for me:
It certainly beats going out in Blighty
Where everyone binge drinks and wants to fight me.

I love the language, harder to learn than Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,
And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
With syllables which breathe of the sweet South,
And rising, falling tones that glide so pat in,
That not a single accent seems uncouth,
Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural,
Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.

I like the women too (forgive my folly),
From the rich Isaan cheek of ruddy bronze,
And large black eyes that flash on you a volley
Of rays that say a thousand things at once,
To the high-so girl’s brow, more melancholy,
But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance,
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes,
Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.

‘England! with all thy faults I love thee still,’
I said at Heathrow, and have not forgot it
(Though at the time I couldn’t wait until
I got to Thailand) – but no, that is not it:
I like freedom of speech (when we’ve the will);
I like Habeas Corpus (when we've got it);
I like to name a teddy what I please,
And politics which is not smeared with sleaze.

I like the taxes, when they're not too many;
I like a night out when it’s not too dear;
I like a Yorkshire pud as well as any;
I like a pint of bitter English beer;
I like the weather, when it is not rainy,
That is, I like two months of every year:
July and August – there’s another reason,
In Thailand at that time it is low season!

Our underfunded soldiers, airmen, seamen,
The Iraq war, sub-prime, the nation's debt,
The ban on smoking (are we Brits still free men?)
And plastic bags – there’s more bans coming yet!
Our cloudy climate, and our chilly women,
All these I can forgive, and those forget,
Or could, except the country’s still going down –
A fact that is not helped by Gordon Brown!

And in the future, where’s the country going?
My every move will register on eBorders*:
Six times a year to Pattaya showing
That I’m a terrorist – or, shock horrors!
Worse! – a sex tourist! Then they’ll be throwing
Me in a cell on feminazi orders,
For 28 days or more without a trial,
While real terrorists look on and smile.

But probably I will not get to go
Because my ‘carbon footprint’ will prevent it.
Control freak politicians will say, ‘No,
You’ve had your carbon credit and you spent it,
When you got in your car a week ago.
Walk, or cycle and thus circumvent it.’
Climate change and terrorism are serious,
But used by politicians to be imperious.

And so, my friends, I think I’ll stay in Thailand,
A country that is difficult to beat,
’Cause here I’m truly free. Unlike in my land,
There’s no surveillance cameras in the street,
No eBorders, no PC-speak – an island
Of sanity in a world full of deceit.
And on top of that there are the brown-skinned lasses –
No wonder Thailand all the world surpasses!


© Rob 2007


*eBorders is a UK Government initiative to take 53 pieces of information from anyone entering or leaving Britain. For every journey, security officials will want credit card details, holiday contact numbers, travel plans, email addresses, car numbers, etc., etc. The excuse is that it will help to catch terrorists, but the fear is that the information will be misused – or, as happened with 25 million files of Child Benefit data recently, lost in the post.