"Dear Pattaya" - Extracts

Dear Jon,

I cannot tell you how much I’m enjoying your crazy stories happening in Pattaya! I really should go over right now! The weather here is really bad, heavy raining all the time and no sun. I’m working hard to get the cash-register thing working. Before I thought my business would pay the 8.000 euros but I have the fear I have from my pocket. The difficult situation with my father seems getting better. The psychological problem he has is that of judging other people on himself, how hard they work. He used to work 80 to 90 hours a week throughout the year…decades. Now he is facing retirement. I worked as an employee even though at home but now I am taking over his position. Additional, he seems to have problems getting tense but these seem to be vanishing due to the de-escalating skill. My mother is the only one who helps him and who he is not in competition with.

Dear Franz,

A quick email and a quick thought : Maybe the good Thai doctors were stringing out your illness to get the big bucks and changing the labels and diagnosing your dire problems too direly…but there again maybe not…because your symptoms were definitely there including unwanted discharges (and unwanted high charges!). As for paranoia and imagining things, yep, Pattaya does that to its partiers. And you’re no exception!

On that depressing note, I’ll finish and start preparing for a party tonight!

Your mad, deluded friend,

Jon

Dear Franz,

As you know I’m an antique farang out here but I know I have to find similar tales to yours to feed you through the long, cold, winter months over there in alpine Austria. I will be contacting a version of yourself who will no doubt have stories similar to yours which will have you rushing to the air-ticket sites, to your visa card, and to your calendar. In other words, I intend to get you back here soon via my virile friend whose name is Terry (The King).

Dear Jon,

In the meanwhile I’ve dated two other ladies from the dating site. One is a teacher, very alternative, left-wing pot smoking. No need to mention she is not the slimmest, to put it friendly. Her profession before she studied and finished with a master’s degree was midwife. Can you imagine? She participated in the birth of 1200 children. She is 42, likes travelling and climbing on mountains. She was in Nepal just before and her next trip will be Mongolia. One time I’ve invited her in a bar for a drink, the other time I invited her to a Thai restaurant in which the waitress had no idea of “brik nam pla”. Some difficulties occurred when we talked about having children, so she understands we will not stick together all life long. She wants to buy some new doors for her apartment, my brother of course is selling them. So I offered her to come to her and have a look at the planned project, till now no answer. Anyway, I’m not a lazy guy. I’ve met another lady, too. She is 35, an engineer with a university degree, compare-able to a PhD. I had to drive 75 minutes to meet her in St. Pölten located between Linz and Vienna. I invited her for a few drinks; it was an interesting talk. At the end I brought her to her car, it was dark, cold and raining. When I left her I had the impression she had some expectations, maybe she wanted a kiss or something like that. But as you know from my holiday, I am not easy to get. I estimate her earnings about 45,000 to 50,000 a year. Jon, do I really have to tell you that she is not the slimmest?! The other lady, Brigitte, who I am visiting on a regular basis, is really great. I mean she is cooking for me, she offers me beer, opens the bottle and fills the glass. And from a sexual point of view she really does her best. So that’s it from Austria.

Your friend,

Franz.

Hey! You’ve hardly sent any stories about your son and his friend!

Dear Franz,

Your emails get better and better just like your ladies - with big bodies, big appetites, big degrees, big amounts of pubic hair! They seem to be keeping you busy! I would cultivate a close relationship with the lady-doctor despite her plain looks. She could be a useful asset here in Pattaya and help diagnosis as soon as you fall ill. Keep her in mind…sleeping on your hotel-room floor, ready to stuff you with tablets, to get you smeared and analysed sooner than the Memorial* or the International*, at present your favourite visiting-sites outside of the bars.

Yes, lots of news here and all of it big, bad and ugly. My friend Rosta has a friend called Jimmy. Rosta calls him James Bond. Jimmy (Bond) arrived walking and went home on a stretcher. He fought a yaba-fuelled tourist who bundled him out of a bar and on to Soi 8, over a motorbike, and into an ambulance for broken-ankle-and-foot bruisers. The bar ladies planted their stiletto heels in the yaba-fuelled, No-Order-of-the-British- Empire tourist, and he is still in hospital / prison waiting for bail money which dad should send but isn't sending. All this happened more than 10 days ago. Yaba is 40 years old and James Bond almost 70. Rosta's friend drinks every other day and gets legless. Now he is ankleless.

So, my dear friend, avoid Soi 8 or go there at your peril. Don't argue with British guys who come at you with bottles, but I know Franz well. You are prudent and don't feel like bothering to have words with ridiculous folk. Yes, they are here, and then gone in a flurry of blue lights and wailing sirens.

Looking forward to your next visit,

All the best,

Jon

P.S. You mention you want to get laid for "statistical reasons". That brought a smile to my face. Please elaborate. "Statistical reasons" are bedpost notches, I suppose, but don't know.

(Jon accuses Franz of getting another person to write his letters.)

Dear Jon,

No way would I lie to you and get a friend to write for me!

Terry The King is a wolfish, virulent, sex-crazed bastard, and of course I just love him. His descriptions of sex with number 26 got me going and I had to break off to relieve myself. I couldn’t help laughing, too, Jon. You spent all that time and money wrapping your phone number up in various denominations of baht-notes and she didn’t even take the time to give you a look, just pocketing all your dough, whereas The King swept her off her feet. And you tell me he’s not a young bastard. He’s one hell of a son of a bitch, a rake after my own heart.

Good wishes from rainy Austria,

The working poor,

Franz

Hi,

Terry is already awake – in Bangkok Pattaya Hospital! His fucking heart almost stopped beating and they bundled him into an ambulance and got him admitted to hospital. Out of the kindness of my heart I visited him. When he saw me he tried to hide under the covers. He wants to deny he ever got drugged and hospitalised. But he did. He’ll be out shortly. He shouted at the hospital because he can’t pay the bill. Maybe, he won’t be around soon because he’ll get put in prison for bill-evasion. In some ways I hope that happens. He really got my goat, getting number 26 into bed. I asked him about her, too, but he denied everything, relying on the old excuse : literary licence. He called you a lascivious jerk and told me he only wrote all that bull about number 26 to titillate you and to make me into a laughing stock. Nice guy, you’ve just gotta admit it!

Jon

(Franz wonders how The King can go wrong given he is The King.)

Hey Franz,

This is Pattaya, The King is a human being though he tries not to be, and you know that anything and everything can happen here, so why the amazement at The King’s predicament? Pattaya is a leveller and a lowest-common denominator like the Grim Reaper himself and so anything can happen to kings, wise men, knaves and fools. And as you know The King is only The King in his own head. Outside of it he is just another punter, an old codger who knows the ropes (more or less) and knows how to add notches to his bedposts. He fell because we all make mistakes, you and me included. I am certain the greatest Oxbridge professor is human at home despite getting the Nobel Prize for “Zap Terrorism Without A Second Thought (The Microsemantics Of Engineered Drone Response Systems To Malevolence Indicators)”. Indeed, I know of one IQ-busting prof who fell out of bed and broke his elbow, then broke it again when he slipped on a banana skin. These things can happen. And do. So stop being so ass-like, Fritzy boy.

Friend Jon

Dear Frankie boy,

This is The King, and, yes, you’re quite right. Jon is slandering me. I’m up and about, and if anyone wants to know where I’ve been, it’s certainly not down the local hospital, cowering under the old hospital- covers, refusing to pay hospital-bills, and getting nicked. I’ve been away in Phuket and Fhuket with number 26 whose name just happens to be Suwannadeem-Suwannadoom-Suwannadum-boom-boom-dee-dee-doom. Srai is a great lay, as minx-like as a big cat, and she arches herself like a bent Eiffel itself.

There’s a knock on the door. Guess who? But I’ll be back to writing to you soon, Fritz-blitz. Hope you’re enjoying my tales. Much better than Jon’s. He sticks to the truth which isn’t great as far as he’s concerned, and I’m concerned, too. My truth’s much better, and makes for a great read. There’s a prevalence of bullshit just about everywhere these days, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t jump on that bandwagon and write the real deal like all the other “Thou shalt lie liars out there”!

The King

Dear Jon,

Tell The King I agree. He’s a great story-teller. I like his lies and they get me going! You’re too much of a literary wanker. Ha ha ha!

Frank

Kind Franz,

The heart of the matter is that he’s making it up and you’re falling for it. If truth stood up and slapped him between the eyes with a cold herring, he’d tell you a beautiful lady was stroking his forehead. The King can’t live in the real world. His ego won’t let him. He’s a narcissistic Oedipal with delusional requiem and won’t see anything or listen to anyone except what flatters his absurd unrealism, but he’s the right guy to swell out this book and he’s certainly got you on his side.

For God sakes, Franz, grow up!

Jon

(The King retires and Jon seeks another letter-writer.)

Can you send someone over who likes writing letters, likes hitting the town, this town, and doesn’t object to paying his whack? I don’t want to raise Fritz’s hopes – only to lose another fun-seeker to a private hospital, plaster-cast and noddle-knock-in!

Dear Frank,

I need to write now and tell you the bad news. The King has indeed retired from the Pattaya scene, but the old age pensioners are sending over his replacement who seems quite a character if what they say is true.

The guy coming over is a cook with a criminal record. It seems he pinched some stuff from Woolworth and since that chain-store has had to close he is always getting burdened by blame for its demise. Far from the case, of course, but as with all criminals and their records, they get associated with matters beyond their control and not of their own doing. There is only one snag to his appearance here, and that is the English authorities are insisting he is accompanied by a social worker, and that can only spell trouble. However, Captain Cook as I will henceforth call the criminal who will take The King’s place has already been on the Skype blower to assure me the social worker is an old fuddy-duddy and Cook has plans to sabotage her work by locking her in her room for long spells. I don’t see how this can be done but he’s determined to come so whatever I say won’t put him off. As you may recall, my love of the social services is as big as an under-developed pea or a spark contemplating Moby Dick at a depth of thirty fathoms. Ever since I got accused of attempting to murder my father by giving him two, small teaspoonfuls of oramorph, I have had it in for those slanderers. But, and it is a big but, will Cook live up to his reputation, I mean The King’s reputation, and will he parallelably be able to get the better of the British social services, the regimented UK regulations, and the drab greyness of that extreme ex-empire? It remains to be seen.

Jon

(The new writer pleases Franz.)

Dear Jon,

Yes, he’s an arrogant bastard and I love him. He turned me on gut and proper. Give me more of him and let me see that video. Seeing is believing. He can bill me the 90 euros when he sends it.

On a more sober note, isn’t the jerk playing with fire – no condom, three in a room, stealing council property, imprisoning a social worker? Does he think he’s some sort of world leader of a banana republic who can do what he wants without suffering the consequences?

Yours,

Frank

(The plot thickens.)

PATTAYA STARTS TO LOOK TOO SEEDY SO THE AUTHORITIES DECIDE TO CLOSE IT DOWN AND TO WIPE THAILAND OFF THE FACE OF THE GLOBE. THEY WISH TO UNMAP THE MAPPED AND TO PUMMEL THE UNPUMMELLED. THEY PROCLAIM PATTAYA IS A RUDE CARBUNCLE GROWING UPON THE RUBY BLUE CRUST OF ASIAN EARTH. THEY….ETC…..ETC

Yep Frank,

Where you’re coming from is where I’m not. You want another bit of fiction to brighten up your life. Well, here it is:

We’ve all already made two visits to Pattaya’s hot-spots. One was to Walking Street where despite my suggestion of just walking we went into three bars. The other visit was to LK Metro and four a go gos! Need I say the visits were disastrous and the social worker’s face darkened and contorted and grimaced like plasticine in the hands of Hieronymus Bosch. Not a pretty sight at all. The outcome of it all is that more visits are planned and I am dragged into them against my will.

Imagine this fifty-year-old sitting there with me and the cook and then objecting to two pretty girls sitting on her lap, presuming she is a lesbian.

There are problems ahead, not least because after the bars and the a go gos, it’s going to be inspections of open-air markets, motor-bike riders’ helmets, speed limits, sois with pit-holes, barking, homeless dogs, with and without rabies, anything and everything to be investigated and reported on and written up about, all those ridiculous things, even dangerous, that make life different here from the UK and worthwhile for ex-pats like me who despite realising the enormous drawbacks, still want it this way and not the other way which is everything, or almost everything, closed down and sat upon by massive legislation not by two pretty a-go-go dancers who leave the glitter from their peachy bums on your thighs and knees! The UK has even got round to putting grey and plastic wrappers on its sex-in-shiny-packet mags used by frustrated Brits for a tissued, wank-and-hand job. So the job is still done but the whole thing is grey-wrapped and plasticked, making it worse than it always has been. And why this? To enable those who complain not to have to see the porn. OK, again, I get the point, but the grey and messy handjobs from the grey and saddened minds still go on while outside the rain-streaked windows of the grey-and-blue-impoverished first world, the endless law weepingly wanks. That’s poetry, Franz, poetic prose that leaves less to be desired than British pub-grub stuffed down the throats of the obese, soon-to-be diabetiques.

Not looking forward one bit to the immediate future, upon me I imagine in less than a week,

Jon

REPORT ON LAWLESS THAILAND, LAWLESS PATTAYA, LAWLESS WALKING STREET, VARIOUS LAWLESS SOIS INCLUDING LAWLESS SOI 6, LAWLESS SOI 7 & LAWLESS SOI 8, LK METRO (LAWLESS), BARS AND EATING HOUSES IN SOI BUAKHAO, WITH RECOMMENDATIONS FOR THEIR IMMEDIATE CLOSURE OR LAW-ENFORCEMENT CHANGE AND HANDCUFF-THWACKERY. FURTHER, INVESTIGATION INTO BLACK MARKET PATTAYA, PATTAYA STREETS, HYGIENE IN THE FOOD MARKETS, CROSS-CULTURAL (UN)COMPLICATIONS, ASSESSMENTS FROM TESCO WHIZZ-KIDS, AND RECOMMENDATIONS FROM A) SOCIAL WORKERS B) EMBASSY OFFICIALS C) POLICE OFFICERS D) TOM, DICK & HARRY. FURTHER, REPORT ON STREET CRIME AND ROAD ACCIDENTS WITH RECOMMENDATIONS ON PREVENTION, LAW-ENFORCEMENT & PUNISHMENT FOR HEAD-CRUSHERS. FURTHER, RECOMMENDED METHODS FOR ENABLING THE THAI AUTHORITIES TO IMPLEMENT CHANGES AND FUND IMPLEMENTED CHANGES, TO BE MADE AVAILABLE AND PAID FOR BY THE BRITISH AUTHORITIES (1%) WITH THE HELP OF EUROPEAN UNION FUNDS (99%) FOR THE AMELIORATION OF THIRD-WORLD STATES, COUNTRIES, COUP D’ETATS, BANANA REPUBLICS, AND OTHER FORMIDABLE MILITARY DIRECTORSHIPS, DICTATORSHIPS AND MATTERSHIPS.

Do you really want to see it, my old friend?

Yours unhappily,

Jon

m#�xp