With less than twelve hours to go until my next visa run to Thailand- cunningly wrapped around some public holiday in Myanmar or other (and I had to scream “Fucking bastards!” in the Head of School’s office when they originally nixed my plan of staying from Thursday to Monday which was within the letter of the contract- two working days for visa runs- but breaking the spirit of it, which was ‘how dare you have a mini break in term-time?’ by crafting a quick break in Pattaya).
I should be overjoyed, therefore, at the prospect of escaping this jungle outpost for the giddy joys of jiggly titties and happy hour all day English breakfasts in a place that out Blackpools Blackpool.
Instead, I fell down a hole in the pavement last night (the country has fallen apart over the years and nobody walks anyway, except me), managed to bleed everywhere and severely bruise the ball of my foot and area around my big toe.
Instead of being a refined and debonair good-looking man about town, it turns out I will be hobbling around in filthy bandages like a diseased and depraved middle-aged pervert.
It catches up so quickly but the tits are always jiggly.
Actually, I might see if I can sell that last paragraph to the Pattaya Tourism Board. It’s really rather appropriate.