The bottom line of this perhaps rather long narrative, is not, as I initially started out as a perhaps green, green badge cab driver, who did not move to the valley of Diesel “Ilford” with the obligatory new cab, wife, mortgage and two kids.

No one more surprised than I at the realisation of what has materialised, a first hand description humiliation and deprivation of the British working class from the 1930's.

This erosion brought about entirely by deliberate policy of successive governments.. and the ten draconian years of Tony Blair who deliberately, for whatever reason, encouraged the influx of irrepresible waves of the World's disenchanted onto these shores, by doing so, creating a powerful, intimidating, devisive weapon against the indigenous labouring masses and a hard core of … crime, poverty and unemployment… the triple iron fist of all governments,plus Enron, 9/11, Afghan conflict over oil, Kosovo all emphatically used by Blair; any outcry was by "politically incorrect racists" as Dr David Kelly was to find to the cost of his life.

The differential between rich and poor, is greater now, than during the Middle Ages.

The Bus Trip Adventure

Bangkok Bus Station is something else.. such an atmosphere ! people swarming in every direction. Each departure a event in itself, vehicles rumbling slowly out, bumper to bumper, an endless procession. Bodies clinging to the sides.. roofs piled high with luggage, crates of animals. Most interestingly, every one smiling .. even I managed to crack my face at such a incredible sight.. the feeling of anticipation, of movement.

Be as it may, I had wandered on slightly ahead of the rest. Maybe, my Stetson hat, maybe whatever.. people were calling out to me to get on their particular bus as it slowly moved into position, a sense of urgency.. one group waving and I could make out the word Pattaya.. so I thought. Saw the others as the bus paused to go through the gates.. called to them I had found the bus and they were to all climb into the crush amongst the chickens, the goats, the whirring fans which, if not careful would bang against your head.

Suppose we had been on board about ten minutes.. no seats, standing, sardines only.. Ten minutes before Albert, a pained look on his face.. asked where the air conditioning was! suggested he put his head outside.

A man struggled up to us evidently demanding money, no one could speak a single word of English, we being regarded with considerable interest by the native population.. Berni started shouting, as if by doing so he could make himself understood.. shouting that we had paid already, produced the tickets which were completely ignored.. By now the driver had his foot down, lurching and swaying along at about forty five, huge swirl of dust following in our wake. Obviously nothing, nothing was going to stop him. It took a while for them to make up their minds what to do or say to me, being initially speechless, we being on the wrong bus going in God knows what direction.
Just then a silver shining bullet.. Pattaya blazoned on its side, hurtled past us, horn blaring, showering us in filth, quite clearly we could see the passengers comfortable seated, even tables set with table clothes. No doubt coffee being served in its air conditioned atmosphere! That was it ! What I was called !

Albert found a place to sit eventually, next to a very large lady had one of her cheeks on the seat, the other on his lap.. Resigned ourselves to going wherever the bus was to take us. Not interested in getting off, the countryside did not look too hospitable.. the further we went the more remote we became from civilisation.

All the time I was being abused, given dirty looks.. especially by Albert who I thought may have another heart attack.. the sweat cascading off of him..

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Dusk.., he bus slowed through a quite large ramshackle town, our first. Rickshaws, very few cars, bicycles by the hundred. This was evidently real Thailand.. if only we had the faintest notion where we may be. Bus stopped. engine stopped, a deep silence suddenly. No going any further, this much quite apparent.

We stood on the pavement .. obviously these people had not seen white Europeans in the flesh before, We were pointed at, crowd gathered. Still no one spoke English. Smiled at their simplicity, really had enjoyed the trip, never have had such a experience in the normal course of events.

Waited for someone to approach me and say "Dr. Livingstone ..I presume"

All still mumbling at me .."Nice fucking mess you'ave got us into"

Some Cab drivers develop this tendency.. to be old women.. their brains slipping out of gear, repeatedly bemoaning the slightest inconsistency in their vacuous lives.

Looked about.. saw one or two very attractive, smiling, so shy young ladies, so apparently innocent, in every term of the word. My dream to run off with one, two, or as many as possible and hide, deep in the jungle. Then I had sought this with other female faces ..to hide .. to let the World continue its headlong rush into oblivion without me. Had succeeded for various periods of time, but reality always managed to break through, the dream shattering.

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