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.

New Year Eve in Thailand

They had all shouted when we had gathered that Xmas Eve, gathered about Natalie's Bar, hear the surf rolling somewhere out, out beyond the million, myriad lights, out in the darkness.

A whole gang of us ... the good times... had felt so very young, so without cares.


Everyone raised their glasses, all shouted in unison "What price Yarmouth Now!" aware of my rupture with Susan having occurred there. It all seemed so long ago ... where were they now? Mia? her very young friend? so young . Berni , too embarrassed to walk along the street with her. John and Pitt, the early stages of what was to be a very long, perhaps unfortunate affair. Hungarian John, a bad reputation with the girls for treating them rough, twisting their nipples between his thick, coarse fingers. An all pervading atmosphere of "Happiness" if that is the word. Everyone getting what they wanted most.

Gone now. Bernie with Le Mi, her small daughter Soot, trapped in the Bungalow out of town, too far really for the casual visit. John now controlled by Pitt, living in their shop house with all her relatives, praying each night and most of the day ... refusing to let him see me in case I were to open his eyes, to break the hypnosis.

Woke up, daylight streaming, both girls dressed, sitting silently watching me, waiting for the bottom line, the money. My watch said half past mid day. The fan rotating endlessly against the heat drifting in from the open windows.

Pulled myself off the bed, asked their names, it hardly mattered, knowing everything else about each of them, every contour, every crevice of their bodies. Asked if either of them were interested in food and maybe a swim at Jontiem Beach, not being caught by the usual trick of them immediately saying they did not have bikinis, triggering a visit to Mike's Arcade, a simple swim costing an arm and a leg. Must have fallen for that a dozen times. Aware I knew the score on that one, Orwun saying we could pick hers up at her room, she would like to go. The other demurred, saying she wanted to do whatever. Paid them their money, gave over the odds ... it had been good ... what I remembered of it.
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