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.

Pattaya

The bus left early morning. Established we were in Chang Mi.

Glorious.. cool.. sane.. Assured this bus actually went to Pattaya.. still in the dog house, the gang silent, engrossed in the spectacular countryside we rumbled through. Finally, after countless stops, could smell the Ocean quite clearly, the Thai's, still up to their tricks, dumped us unceremoniously off at what looked like a native encampment.. a few beat up sedans lying about in the dust and filth .. battered "Taxi" signs plastered all over them.. Into these vehicles we were pushed ..could see the bus ,its dust cloud ahead.. followed it all the way into Pattaya, at a price!.


The Honey Lodge Hotel in those days, quite up market, not been eclipsed by developers, not been built out of sight, there had been no main drag past its doors. The large, shaded, swimming pool with attendant, obliging, lounging, expectant ladies, had not been turned into a night club.

Berni saw me eyeing the so young "Chamber Maids" "Nah then Peta! ain't 'avin none o' that.. you'll get 'em the sack" By the way these girls glanced back under their eyelids ..think he was attempting to make sure of getting in first.

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It has occurred to me, that trip.. we were little more than children, regardless of our combined age, of having had extensive experience, bruising and injuries through the female process in the West, we, simply a manipulative joke to the sharp young Ladies of the East.

Smile when I think of that first day in Pattaya by the pool. We had all thought ourselves so clever "pulling" such attractive ladies. Sure , our swaggering good looks, our debonair charm attracted these young women, like flies. Such swimmers!.. like fish. One, jumped over enthusiastically on Berni, dragging him down into the dark green, iridescent depths. He finished up having to be salvaged and given resuscitation. Thought the old bastard was dead.


In the evening all dressed up, sorted out, each having had our afternoon session, looking like cats that had drunk the milk, self satisfied smirks. Sauntered off, almost up to the Marine Bar. Sat ourselves down in the open air, amongst the crush. Bernie, the paymaster, making himself busy ordering piles of food, the girls eagerly prompting him, unaware that they had possibly not eaten for a few days. These small signs we had not learnt to read. Albert's girl suddenly stood up, walked off.. all looked at him, his face fell. They could not speak much English other than the usual. What's your name? Where do you come from? How long will you be staying?. The last one being the decisive. Three questions every intelligent Thai girl knows before she is five years old.


All choked when the Lady who had departed so mysteriously, returned, transformed, her natural good looks, clear smooth skin, long, straight hair, beautifully enhanced by one of the many Hairdressing, Make Up shops. No stopping Albert after that..!

He, so carried away...walking along the "Strip", allowed himself to be waltzed into a shoe shop.. Before having time to click, we too were gently pulled in after them. Another lesson.

Shoes! almost another religion with these ladies, a fascination. That small jaunt cost us a packet. Only the very best being demanded! One of these ladies stamping her foot, appropriately, when Fred refused to cough up the required, excessive amount.

Night..moonlight.. all splashing about in the pool. Paradise!

Had it to ourselves, everyone else asleep or whatever...

The ladies had worked hard for their money.. being dragged about by us.. Now, very late, as I was to find out, Thai ladies love their sleep.. Beautiful Lizards.. yet they made all the right gestures, laughed in all the right places, no doubt thinking our resources were, as yet, untapped.

Six days into the trip, both Jimmy and myself on negative equity.. He had done every penny on "our loved one" running back to us when all his money found its way into her bank account. Quite by accident (we looked in her bag) saw that in her savings account she had over 400.000 Bts ...£8.000... a fortune in their terms.. a awful lot of roll-overs!

Gradually they all drifted off, leaving myself and my thoughts alone with the moon which hung just above a long line of Palm trees, casting deep shadows.
Crying, someone was softly crying.. wondered who the lucky man was that a woman would cry over. She was sitting on the Pool steps.. Albert's little jewel. Found it difficult to believe that he had simply, for no apparent reason, thrown her out of his room.. We had all busted our guts trying to get her in ours... The fact she was in tears over him left me almost speechless.. She would not be consoled, refused all my disguised lecherous advances, would not let me even put my arm round her, a sly move. Well into my whispering bit, when Bernie's fog horn broke through what was now a faint dawn.

Nah then.. wots all this?.. wot are ya doing wiv Albert's Young lady?!.. I don't know Peta" he said, ruefully shaking his head... "..always want somebody else's woman.."
..Which was true. The challenge, no doubt.. the hell of it.
Carefully explained the delicate situation to him...
"Shirley.. that's wot it is.. Ee's 'avin thoughts about Shirley"
Bernie, not often wrong when it came to weighing people up. How Albert could be bothered with thinking about someone so very far away, inconceivable. A lovely girl crying over him! ..I felt ill. Even went up to his room attempting to sort it out..., lying in bed smoking.. the most filthy temper.. as if Shirley had cast some malignant spell over him.. apparent that was her influence.

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