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Hotels can help to
stop druggings
Dear Sir,
I’m referring to your news story headed ‘Tourist drugging continues’ and the
editorial by Kittisak Khamthong ‘Poisoning tourists must be stopped, now’.
In your news story was stated that the 3 Austrian tourists were staying in a
large resort on North Pattaya Road. In large and better hotels it is
generally custom, that tourists who wish to bring back a partner for the
night, to pay an amount of approximately 500 Baht for security reasons. The
visitor also has to leave the ID card at the reception and when picking it
up the next morning, a telephone call is usually made to the room in which
she or he was sleeping, to assure that nothing went missing. This is
probably a good way of preventing any unwelcome experiences for first-time
visitors.
If these vicious girls had to leave their ID’s at the reception, they would
not have dared drugging and robbing tourists, or otherwise they would have
been caught.
Unfortunately many tourists try to avoid this fee by taking the girl first
to the hotel’s restaurant or coffee-shop and so getting her past the
reception.
Enforcing and establishing this regulation in hotels and resorts could be a
start for preventing such crime acts.
Robert Clark
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Praise for
Koh Larn hospital
Sir,
I was unfortunate to suffer a fairly serious accident during a recent
boating trip around the islands off Pattaya. This happened a long way from
shore and I was treated at the hospital on Koh Larn Island. Whilst the place
may not look much by western standards, the medical attention was first
class and very reasonably priced. If any of your readers are unfortunate to
suffer a similar incident, then they should not hesitate to visit this
hospital.
The boat itself was hired and whilst seaworthy, carried no useful items in
the event of an incident, i.e. first aid kit, compass or flares. It was more
luck than judgment that I actually arrived at the island. In hindsight, it
would be wise to at least take a first aid kit even if one is not provided
with the boat. Once again, my heartfelt thanks to the attending doctor at
the hospital.
Richard Bunch
Advice for tourists
Dear Sir,
The reasons many “falangs” do not return to Pattaya is the manner in which
they are so exploited constantly.
For myself, one loves or hates this place. Having visited Pattaya for long
periods over nine years, I offer a few tips.
Baht taxi drivers are the worst offenders. Golden rules: 1) Never board a
stationary taxi, he is waiting to exploit you for all he can get. Always
hail a taxi in motion. The fare to Jomtien (from South Pattaya) is 10 baht
for Europeans and 5 baht for Thais - at the moment. Taxi drivers demand 20
baht when falangs travel together with Thais. So, 2) save 150 baht a month
by boarding separate taxis to Jomtien. There is always a constant stream of
them.
Try to avoid asking questions whenever possible. Find out cost, then tell
them what you will pay. This works on most occasions.
Whenever venturing anywhere on foot, beware of hazards underfoot and above!
Remember, “non-slip tiles” in bathrooms and swimming pools are scarce.
There are no public toilets at Jomtien, a walk along the footpath one is hit
by a strong smell of urine. Ugh!
After all this, I still love this place.
“Kineow”
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Help for lonely souls
CoDa
Co-Dependants Anonymous
A Twelve Step Program
To Help Improve
Relationships With Others
And Ourselves
Thursdays, 7:30-8:30 PM
Between Florida Hotel and
Skaw Beach Hotel
519/56 Soi Prom Pund
Off Pattaya 2nd Road
Contact Renn
250-326
For your general in-formation, Co-Dependents Anonymous is
a fellowship of men and women whose common problem is an inability to
achieve and maintain functional relation-ships.
We share with one another in hopes of solving mutual co-dependent issues and
helping others to recover. The only requirement for membership is the desire
for healthy and fulfilling relationships with others and ourselves.
CoDa is not allied with any sect, denomination, political group,
organisation, or institution. CoDa does not with to engage in any
controversy; neither endorses nor opposes any causes. We rely upon the
wisdom, and knowledge of the Twelve Steps, and Traditions, adopted for our
purpose from Alcoholics Anonymous, as the principles of our program, guiding
us to living better lives.
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A TABLOID JOURNALIST’S TALE
by Noel (Tippler) Thomas
I work for The Sin newspaper in the U.K. and am proud to be
regarded as the lowest of the low by my peers. Also, I take great pride in
being referred to as ‘The Stinking Reptile’ within the industry. It takes
some determined gutter reporting to hit such dizzying depths and I feel that
I am more than worthy by my dogged persistence to become the despised
scumbag that I am.
My penchance for reporting the truth in a way that other journalists see as
complete fiction or deliberate lies is of little concern to me, as my copy
sells papers. That’s all that counts as far as I’m concerned. I don’t give a
damn if I ruin the odd reputation or life here and there provided that the
paper’s circulation is maintained and I get my pay cheque at the end of the
month.
I had been hounding Lady Diana for the previous few years and I was, quite
frankly, running out of lies to print about her. It was then it occurred to
me that there hadn’t been a story on AIDS in Thailand for at least three
weeks.
I approached my editor and suggested that he give me the assignment. At
first, he was totally staggered that I wanted to actually visit Thailand in
person. He could not understand why I could not just drink a bottle of
Scotch and then make up a story as I would usually do. I eventually
convinced him that for The Sin newspaper to actually have one fact, or maybe
even two or three contained within its pages, would be bound to send our
circulation through the roof as soon as word got out. He pondered for a
while and then, having calculated the potential financial reward that his
personal bonus plan could provide, gave me the go ahead. Within seconds I
had placed the necessary authorisation forms in front of him and ensured
that everything was approved before he changed his mind.
The flight was not for another two days and so I spent the time
industriously writing my article entitled: AIDS in Thailand: the Horrifying
Truth. Now don’t get me wrong, when I was to actually visit the country, I
had every intention of changing the odd sentence should I see something that
was true, provided it was more sensational and newsworthy than my
imagination. I do have my standards to maintain, I’ll have you know.
The flight over was far more interesting than I imagined. It’s part of my
training to constantly eavesdrop on people and as the plane was only two
thirds full, I was given the opportunity to sneak up behind people and
listen in on their conversations. I went through four notepads within seven
hours.
Given that the type of dialogue I heard only referred to peoples’ plans to
visit all the beautiful tourist attractions of Thailand, I thought it
prudent to take notes as I knew that I would be able to convert them into a
form that the average reader would find acceptable. You have to bear in mind
that us gutter press hacks have the ability to portray a nun’s picnic with a
group of children with their pets as an open air lesbian orgy involving
unnatural acts with animals.
As soon as I heard the middle aged couple from Surrey discussing a planned
excursion to The Floating Market in Bangkok, an immediate article title came
to mind: Past-it Pair Prepare for Pot Party. The fact that the main purpose
of their intended visit was to buy pot plants for the back garden of their
cottage in Godalming was of little concern to me. Drug abuse in a land of
sin and debauchery would make much better reading for our devoted
subscribers. When I saw the lady offer a small child a barley sugar sweet,
there was no question that I would have to weave fictitious details of their
involvement in a child sex ring into the story. It was becoming clear to me
that this trip was going to provide me with enough material to keep my avid
imagination well fertilized for years to come.
I then moved up the gangway and eventually sat behind two Londoners. This
motley pair were clearly regular travelers to Thailand and both had regular
and long-standing lady friends in the country. It seemed apparent to me that
the ‘dynamic duo’ in front of me were clearly mentally retarded or, at best,
incredibly naive. They would each send their ‘sweethearts’ five hundred
pounds (Baht 2,000) per month on the understanding that the girls would
remain faithful to them whilst they were back home in the UK. True, the
young ladies in question could indeed have been beyond reproach and would
rather die than commit an act of dishonesty. My paper, however, leaves the
coverage of such types to publications such as Woman’s Own. This prompted
the caption Bangkok Belles Blackmail Bermondsey Boys. It transpired that the
lads managed to get themselves over to Thailand at least three times a year,
the limiting factor being holiday leave in addition to the obvious financial
requirements. Whilst back in London the boys lived a very frugal life so as
to save the money to finance their Far Eastern jaunts.
Having successfully navigated myself through the rigours of the Immigration
System at Don Muang Airport at Bangkok, I found myself hurtling towards the
city at a steady two miles per hour. Quite frankly, it would have been far
quicker and unquestionably far less frustrating to have walked.
I had been booked into the Anna Hotel, situated somewhere off Sukhumvit
Road. We arrived at the hotel two hours after leaving the airport and my
mood was far from chirpy as we pulled up at the entrance, believe me. I told
the driver to go screw himself and felt compelled to arrange for him to part
company with his front teeth when he tried to extort a further two hundred
baht from me. I also felt it necessary to knee the bellboy in the groin as
he was adamant that I give him a tip in advance before he was prepared to
retrieve my bags from the taxi.
I immediately thought of two more article titles: Mobile Muggers Make Misery
and Hotel Hoodlums Hustle a Hack.
I finally got to my room and took a much needed shower. Rather than mess up
my body clock, I forced myself not to sleep and went for a stroll. I
happened upon a place called Anna Plaza Entertainment Complex. I had heard
that there should be plenty of material there from which I could invent many
lurid stories to satisfy the lustful appetite of my readers.
I walked around the array of ‘Go-Go’ bars only to be disappointed to
discover that the girls all seemed to be laughing and joking as they
consumed platefuls of whatever food they wanted whenever they felt the urge.
Mild panic set in as it became clear that these girls were obviously happy
in what they did for a living and there was no question of them being
coerced in to doing something against their will. I searched in vain for the
rows of moribund AIDS victims that I had been led to expect by the
propaganda machine of UK.
I was relieved to see a girl wearing an ankle bracelet which prompted the
article title: Sex Slaves Subjected to Bondage in Thailand. That would make
a far more interesting read than talking about a girl reading a knitting
magazine, I thought to myself.
As luck would have it, a moment later an elderly Norwegian gentleman patted
a shoeshine boy on the head, in gratitude for the excellent job the boy had
done on the man’s rancid shoes over the previous fifteen minutes for the
princely sum of forty pence. The article title: Pederasts Profit from the
Poor sprang instantly to mind.
I then decided to park myself in one Go-Go Bar and simply observe for a
while. It was quite disappointing to witness one particular beauty of a girl
turn down the propositions of over a dozen tourists in the space of thirty
minutes. She explained to each of the Europeans that they would be hard
pressed to be given the privilege of stroking a mangy street dog, let alone
savouring the delights of her nubile body. She also pointed out that she was
running short of time as her new seven series BMW was to be delivered within
the hour. This prompted the article title: Sold Sex Slaves Suffer Shocking
Situations.
Having had enough of that particular bar, I wandered along the walkway,
deciding to stop in a bar which reminded me of matters electrical. I was
initially aroused, I must confess, when this gorgeous creature made a full
inventory of the contents of my shorts whilst I gulped away at a can of
Carlsberg, this activity being interspersed by passionate deep throat
kisses. Hindsight now informs me that the baritone voice that later
resonated from my new-found darling was not in fact a quirk of nature: it
was more a gender identification issue. When I realised the unwholesome
truth of the situation, thanks to my instinct to go for a navel grope, I was
only violently sick for twenty minutes so I guess I got off lightly. This
prompted the article title: Faggots Forced to Fool and Fornicate with
Farangs.
I made a somewhat hasty exit and decided that the Anna Plaza was a place
where I should no longer be. I headed up Sukhumvit road, thankful in the
knowledge that my mistake had not been captured on film. A few minutes later
my attention was drawn by the sound of loud rock music booming out from a
place called the Thermostat Lounge. I eventually found the entrance which
was at the rear of the building.
I was slightly taken aback to discover that to get in to the bar one had to
wade through the communal toilet, ruining my shoes in the process, whilst
people dealt with calls of nature. This prompted the article title:
Bewildered Boys Buggered in Bog.
Having acquired my drink, I attempted to start up a conversation with a
young lady upon whose foot I had just trodden. This proved a daunting task
as she was a deaf mute. The guy standing next to her proceeded to retrieve
the cigarette that he had just dropped between her feet and apologised for
head butting her in the stomach as he lurched forward under the influence of
sixteen cans of Fosters Lager. The girl was far from happy with the
situation and all of a sudden something of a skirmish ensued as other girls
came to her ostensible rescue. This prompted the article title: Mute
Muff-Divers Make Mayhem.
The time was now 4.30 a.m. and so I decided to call it a night. I staggered
back to the Anna Hotel and decided to have a quick night-cap in the Coffee
Shop on the ground floor. No sooner than I had raised my treble brandy to my
lips, in stormed a party of Danish drunks. I do not know what it is about
the Scandinavians, but they all seem to have this hell bent desire to
consume in one session more alcohol than a platoon of drugged American
G.I.’s could drink in a day. When Olle Peterson won the prize for downing a
bottle of Scotch Whisky in less than ten seconds, I became a little nervous:
my instincts seemed to be telling me that there could be trouble in the air.
My worst fears were confirmed when that unhelpful little git who managed the
hotel reception went sailing through a closed picture window and landed some
ten yards away in the car-park. He was lucky that he bounced off the roof of
an incoming taxi, as the outgoing laundry van would surely have flattened
him. This event prompted the article title: Malicious Manager Makes
Moonshot.
In the morning as I checked out, the previously airborne reception manager
gave me a welcomely toothless scowl as I left the flea pit So, feeling
rather relieved to have survived the place, I climbed into a taxi and was
off on my way to some beach resort some two hours south of the capital.
Bangkok was certainly an interesting place, but if I go there again I will
ensure that I wear a gas mask. I wonder what delights my next port of call
will bring.
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