Nightmarch 15 July 2004

[PattayaPete 530]

And so to Sunny England: No I’ve not gone completely barking mad, just taken a small leave of my remaining senses and this edition’s offering unfortunately is somewhat of a hybrid. Since I have been out of Fun Town and in England for the two weeks prior to the publication of this newspaper, I can’t very well report on the comings and cum-ings, and occasional closures, of the various boozatoriums around town.

 

Of course I could leave a blank page for Pete to fill in whatever fashion he saw fit: gardening tips, 101 ideas for a rainy day (I found a book with just such a title in a second-hand bookshop in Kuching, the capital of the Malaysian state of Sarawak recently), skin care for octogenarians. Instead, since I would be in the Land of the Great Unwashed, I thought it might be interesting to share with readers some interesting tidbits about that wonderful city of London as presented in a book entitled London: The Wicked City by Fergus Linnane. I’m led to believe Fergus Linnane is the author’s real name, not some form of Irish skin lotion.

 

For Australians of a certain age, England, and in particular London, was always seen as the first stop for travellers before embarking on a tour of continental Europe. Nowadays, for Australians of a certain urgent desire, the Philippines and Phuket, and increasingly of late, Pattaya, have become the landing zones, because the Thais don’t mention Australians and sheep in the same breath. The Poms keep chiding us with sheep jokes involving fornication; don’t they realise it’s the Kiwis who are the sheep shaggers? All the Australian sheep I’ve ever laid eyes on were ugly, although I do remember once spying a nice little merino on the road near

 

Gunnedah…Interesting pieces in Linnane’s book include the nicknames of two well-known 18th century prostitutes: Polly Nimblewrist and Jenny Speedyhand. I’ve no doubt a number of the working damsels of Pattaya would be delighted to learn the secrets of the nimble wrist and the speedy hand, although in my limited experience of these things it does appear as though many may already have reached an understanding of the art. Ladies of the evening who were infected with gonorrhea were known as ‘fire-ships’, for obvious reasons.

 

This is the country with St George as its patron saint; apparently he not only protects against dragons, he’s also called upon to look after syphilis. Lord Rochester, who died at the age of 33, was a contemporary of King Charles II- whose Royal sword was said to be ‘of a length’and known for his libertine behaviour. Despite this, he was to England what Senator Mechai Viravaidya has been to Thailand, promoting the use of condoms and cautioning against the dangers of unprotected coitus. It’s not recorded if Rochester ever owned a restaurant with a catchy name, unlike the good Senator with his Cabbages and Condoms noshery.Rochester continually fell foul of Charles II and was for many years considered nothing more than a writer of pornographic verse. The great English novelist Graham Greene wrote a biography entitled Lord Rochester’s Monkey but had to wait 40 years before a publisher had the guts to print it.

 

Linnane notes 1858 was known as the ‘Year of the Great Stink’: the river Thames was virtually an open sewer; which year should be labelled in similar fashion for the area around the old pier at south Pattaya?

 

The streets of Victorian London were full of child prostitutes, but flagellation was the real turn-on for the upper classes. The Victorians really did go in for a good spanking and flagellation became known as le vice anglais by the French. That may be, but I know Fun Town’s fetish joint, The Castle (Third Road, formerly The Cave) is managed by a Frenchman. Then again, I am led to believe the birchmaster is a Pom: perhaps a retired barrister, vicar or vacationing admiral. One person wrote of the appeal of a good old flogging within marriage. ‘There is a unique attraction in whipping one’s wife or being whipped by her hand. I hope a time will come when all quarrels will be settled by hand.’ He’d have made a beeline for The Castle every night, never mind the 900 baht for your first drink.

 

Personally, I have a great liking for London, a city of such abundant history and amazing architecture, but I confess the first thing I’m going to do when I return to Pattaya will be to make a pilgrimage to Walking Street and offer up lady drinks at a number of shrines featuring chrome pole molesters.

 

A Welcoming Hand: Mention of nimble wrists and speedy hands leads me to make the observation that more than a few chrome pole huggers have taken to using the secret handshake when greeting potential victims who have stumbled into their lair. The handshake is not something the lasses acquired while attending haggis-slashing ceremonies in Lodge 69181 of the Freemasons; this handshake is one known to all habitu?s of the various Sierra Tango (S/T) boozers scattered the length and breadth of Fun Town. It involves a dancing damsel sidling up beside you and then laying her paw in the general area of the middle stump, to borrow a cricketing term. Sometimes it’s subtle, more often it’s so overt the damsel dispenses with all preliminaries and simply takes matters into her own hands without preamble.The secret handshake was never a major part of an ogling den dancers’ armoury, but perhaps they’ve noticed the success their dine and dash establishment sisters have had with the ploy and have figured it’s a great way to increase their chances of being bar fined.

 

Every time I take a seat now in an ogling den a line the movie director Alfred Hitchcock made his secretary speak to guests at his 55th birthday party comes to mind: “Ladies and gentlemen, would you all come into the other room and have a piece of Mr Hitchcake’s cock.” Perhaps the best way to overcome the temptation of the secret handshake is to take up the former French foreign minister Talleyrand’s admonition to his staff to ‘knock the top off’ the one-eyed trouser snake before venturing out to play. Then again, wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose of being in Fun Town?

 

Learn to be Ambidextrous: Nowadays, keeping a weather eye on the goings on in Pattaya is not difficult even when you’re not physically there. The great World Wide Wank allows everyone to log-on and link-in to the happenings in Pattaya and among the best sites are the English-run Pattayagogo guide . com and the German-run Pattayanight life.de. If you can’t remember the internet address of your favourite chrome pole palace, all you need do is go to the Pattayagogoguide site and follow the bouncing ball. Service With a Smile:

 

The ogling den, beer boozer, dine and dash, and noshery business in Fun Town is precarious at the best of times and competition for the elusive baht is fierce. A place may have all the necessary attributes to make it a boomer, yet it can attract little or no custom for a variety of reasons.

 

One major problem for many business owners is the staff. The people employed to take care of customers are, primarily unwittingly, involved in the field of public relations and as such it only takes a few harsh words and the od intentional or sometimes unintentional rip-off to start rumours that can do untold damage to a place.

 

Those places that seem to do consistently well, and are therefore the envy of many of those who don’t, follow the simple tried and tested formula of looking after the punters who walk through their doors. Old-fashioned service, a friendly smile, a quick chat is all it takes to keep most people happy and willing to come back again and again. Of course, price is a factor, especially if customers are discerning, but if imposts are high but fair then that generally determines the frequency of visits rather than whether somebody will come back at all.

 

This Town Ain’t Big Enough: The OK Corral beer boozer, golfing emporium and intelligent persons meeting place (Soi Skaw Beach) will shortly be moving lock, stock and beer barrel to a location in Soi Rungland, off South Pattaya Road. Watch this space for further details.