Day 8: Phuket

Phuket

Things in the diary get pretty sordid from this point on. We get a lot of handys and do things none of us are proud of to Thai prostitutes. But that's what happens in Phuket, and I have no regrets. I got things out of my system that I'd get arrested for in England, and I think that's probably a good thing.

It is the exact opposite of Koh Tao. There are tourists everywhere. Most of them sex tourists. Middle aged men, fat, usually in a leather jacket, with a handlebar moustache, walking around, holding hands with Thai boys and young girls. It's sordid. Worse than I'd imagined. There are suit shops everywhere, and markets selling fake football tops and cheap tshirt. The beach isn't golden like Koh Tao, it's got rubbish on. It reminds me of Blackpool, except with more pros.

'You wanna suit ma friend?'
'You want good time? Happy ending, yes?

They are the two questions I've been asked about 40000 times today. No I do not want a fucking suit. And yes, I would like to ejaculate in your hand.

At first I didn't really like the look of the place. It's cheap and tacky, doesn't smell good, the restaurants aren't great, it's more expensive, the weather is shit. But the hotel made up for this. We got dropped off outside and ice cream parlour, where a group of Thai girls, some of them very attractive were selling ice creams in their white uniforms and orange caps, and at the back of the shop, a girl was asleep on the desk of the hotel reception. It's only costing us £6 a night. We got into the rooms, which were a double bed each, a big bathroom, a balcony looking out onto the sea, a plasma Samsung TV, a mini bar filled with Changs and Thai whiskey. It was the best £6 I'd ever spent.

So we were all feeling a bit better and headed out to Bangla Road. We walked up past prostitute bars, it was the middle of the day, so there weren't many girls working, just seedy looking men sitting around in dark corners sipping frozen yoghurt's or lime sodas. We kept walking and made our way to a shopping mall. It was nothing like the one in Bangkok. We wasted some money in an arcade. Harry practised his shooting with an AK to 'kill those faking heron' when he got back home. Then we went to the cinema.

The selection of food impressed the Porker:
4 different flavours of popcorn, including cheese. Nachos, hotdogs, Thai sweets, biscuits, crisps, burgers, loads of weird drinks, too much to remember. So I went wild. The cinema was the best I've been to. Big red leather chairs, (a sofa if you were a pig and brought your Thai pro on a date with you, which several people behind us were doing). We had to stand up for the national anthem which was strange. The President seems like a right wanker. Sitting watching Terminator, admiring Christian Bale's body, I realised that Jonny would be one of the fat men behind me, who at 40, has to come to Phuket, to get slowly stroked off by a young boy in the back row of a cinema. And I smiled at this thought. Knowing that I'd probably be joining him.

We then went for a facial. Fuck it was good. They went all out on the pores. Used a suction machine, their nails, tweezers, steam, about 40 different creams, cucumber, exfoliater, salt scrub. As she leaned close to my face, breathing on me, I thought about biting her neck. Ever since finishing American Psycho I've felt like I'm the fat Bateman. After the facial, I promised myself to incorporate one a week when I got back home and started my health and facial regime. Then had a footlong Subway and headed back.

We headed to Bangla Road with the sole intention of getting a blozza. So many old men. Literally the most stereotypical perverts flock to Phuket. They all wear tight leather and have small shriveled wrinkly cocks.

Henry started giving us the whole 'I'm the more mature Doctor Love now, I'm not going to shag a prostitue'. It took him about four minutes to change his mind, and he led us straight into the main area.

You walk down narrow alleys of bars, where prostitutes grab your arse, nipples and cock. They try to get you to sit down and have a drink. So we did, and watched as they shook their minges in our face. There was no talking between us. Just sitting, eyes staring at their minge.

We sat down at one bar, where Jenga and Connect 4 were set up, ordered a few beers and started the night. Me and Mo started on the J&B thinking we were Bateman. (Bateman isn't a Paki Mo, you moron). It tasted like shit, but we drank it and got pissed and lost all the games to the pros and knocked up a massive bar tab. Every time the bell rang they were bringing us shots of Tequila and Sambuka and I was getting hammered. I got over the fact that it was awful, we all did. Jonny and Henry couldn't stop smiling. It was awful watching them- they were pigging hard, arms around pros, asking them their life stories, kissing them, massaging them, telling flirty jokes. All I wanted to do was feed the horse under the bar and maybe pre-cum in my pants a bit.

Me and Jonny beat them at Jenga just once out of 17 games. So the bill was massive. There was a stunning Russian sitting at the bar, who kept looking over at us, but I was content to settle for a pro, and did.

What happened next deserves a post on its own...