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To Affinity and Beyond

by Bernie Bostik

Raymond had sent a driver to the airport to pick us up. 'How will we recognise him?' me and Dave  inquired on the phone. 'Don't worry you just will' was Ray's giggly reply. So as we strolled through customs and finally outside to  were there was a mad scrum ensuing, we spotted our man. A small Thai chap with a whopping big piece of cardboard. Which was as wide as he was tall and in big red letters on the huge thing was the words - AFFINITY-SEX TOURS


A couple of months earlier during one of many business musings with Raymond the Cloggy at his Thai Restaurant in the Dam (basically chewing the fat over a bowl of Tom-Yam-Kong ). Dave gave Ray a name of an Internet software company called Affinity, that he advised him to  buy shares in. Dave was a clever cunt when it come to things of a business nature, he always had his head buried in the business section of the Times. He always knew which stocks were hot and which one's were not, which companies were on the up, which were folding and he was always bleating on about buy on rumour sell on fact. He was onto this .com boom thing and he knew the wheat from the chaff. Dave and me would have lumped on Affinity ourselves but with our money bearing fruit in other ventures we were a wedge-less firm.  So Ray reaped the benefit and ended up buying X amount of shares at X amount of pence a share and sold them two months later at XX AMOUNT OF POUNDS A SHARE!  The invitation on his annual  six month holiday in Thailand was quick in forth coming.


We quickly settled into Ray's way of living in the first few days. Up between 1 and 2 then a short scooter ride to the beach. A few hours of manicure/pedicure/massage/sunbathing before going back to the apartment  for  a rapid scrub-up then out for a spot of dinner and on to the main event of the evening for us fly Casanova's with the Hugo Boss odours. A Trawl through the Go-Go bars of sleazy down town Pattaya.


Raymundo never  ever drank booze, done drugs or ate greasy shit take-away food. His body was a temple and sex was his drug. He wasn't a big steg head or anything he was just as fit as a butchers dog. He was also a bit of  a kiss-the-mirror, his first port of call on the way to the beach every day was to stop off at the plod shop to pay his 500 baht fine for not wearing a helmet on his scooter. The reason for this is because it messed up his hair, and if he got stopped again that day he would have a 'producer' to prove he had paid his fine,  so under mad Thai law they couldn't fine him twice on the same day. So Ray was able to ride round with his  spiky haired gel number staying... well..... spiky in the wind. He also wore the most snidest clobber I have ever seen (as if the haircut wasn't enough!), all skin-tight see through lace Versace shirts, ripped to shred jeans and cowy boots.Them cloggy's just  haven't got a clue when it comes to clobber.


As well as his dress sense being strange he also had a strange  relationship with his bird back in Clog - she knew about his extra curricular activities and didn't mind him spending six months every year plugging Thai kut. He lived the life of Riley and it was fun to watch him Lord it around the bars. Every Mama San on the doors knew his name as his entered. Tables were cleared for him to sit down. He use to spend absolute brewsties on bar fines alone, telling the paid off girls to meet him later at Marine Disco after they clocked off. It was here in the Disco surrounded by a gaggle of girls that he would choose his lucky two or three for the night. Then that was it, you wouldn't see him again till the next  afternoon. He done the same thing religiously every night for six months solid!


After a few weeks of this gruelling schedule mine and Dave's enthusiasm was beginning to wane some what, and I hate to say this but we stayed in a few nights.  We had got what I can only describe as a bag of soil and twigs off a friend of Ray's for a smoke! (where was all this sweet pungent smelling Thai stick that I have heard so much about?) and had taken Ray on a trip to the local superstore to kit our gaff out with DVD player and CD. And with pirate copies of every film and album ever made on our doorstep and an invite from Ray  for a party in his Penthouse as he came in from the club. Staying in was the new going out.


Ray had bought the whole top floor of the block and knocked it all through to creature a shagtastic open plan penthouse, it had the works;  Jacuzzi on the balcony, projector with surround sound, big black leather sofas, pool table and my favourite a humungus round bed which was always made up in the finest black satin sheets Asia had to offer. His mate who was some kind of racing driver for some professional team or other had done the same to the top of the next block along and made it into a  top notch shagtastic pad also. Ronald De Rumour reckoned  that Ray and his mate had earned their 'cabbage' through owning a high percentage of the windows in the Dam, but I wasn't one to ask, so I was none the wiser.


With mine and Dave's battery's re-charged and eight of the lads  over for a two week holiday. We hit the town again. With the lads on good form-after a flight of bugle and whiskey-the evening was going to be eventful to say the least. At one stage we had to chill the lads out  whilst in the club when Ray warned us that we were surrounded by plain clothes plod  just waiting for us to cross the line.


The next day on the beach all the jangle was of last nights conquests. We each in turn gave our version of events, some funny, some sordid and some down right disgusting. It finally got down to 'H' and what he'd got up to the previous night.......' I just picked some bird up and went back to me gaff, quick boring really,  all she did was blew me tubes and  wouldn't let me goose her'...
Ray was on-it in an instant ' She would not let you fuck her...no?'
' She wouldn't let me in her knickers....she said she was on'  mumbled H
' Where did you pick her up from?' Ray now smelling blood (sorry).
' You know that gaff on the left when you come down the escalators out of Marine.' he answered a little gingerly,now beginning to twig something was not right.
' KATOI......KATOI.......KATOI BAR....HAHAHAHA  KATOI!!!!!' Ray was howling jumping up and down and flapping his arms around like a mad banshee. H's brass turned out to be a katoi (lady-boy).


That was it for the next two hours what followed was a barrage of  japes of a gay/ladyboy/blow job nature. I was literally crying with mirth, one that stands out was "What have Monty, Faldo, Tiger and Garcia stood on the 1st Tee at Augusta got in common with H and his Thai brass??........ They both can be described as a four ball". H handled it well for the first few days, but the pace of the piss take was relentless and in the end it broke him and ruined his holiday. He retired into his shell to spend the rest of his time hanging around the apartments bar and pool.


From the first night in of the lads holiday you knew things were about to go up a notch or two  on the barometer of weirdness.  So they  took  a leaf out of good old Hunters book and  'When the going gets weird ...the weird turn pro'. and turn pro they certainly did - in-fact they were pros of Premier League status , 100 grand a week driving round in Aston Martin DB7's,  living in  mock Tudor mansions, sticking vibrating phones up each-others  arses  while their  birds spend fortunes  at Cricket type pros.


Next on the agenda was the Yaba orgy. Some Silly Billy had gotten hold of them Yaba speed tablets.  Yaba is Thai for 'crazy medicine'.The so-called 'Nazi method' ( it was Hitler's favoured drug) for making Yaba was revived in Thailand about 30 years ago and  it has created one of the biggest youth drug problems in South East Asia.The effects are said to make it the most intense form of speed known, providing multiple hours of high energy and euphoria, followed by the inevitable speed crash. It can also be smoked in a pipe with heroin, creating the infamous 'speed ball' effect.


Some of the chaps were ok on them, when I say  OK,   I mean they were all throwing mad shapes on the podiums in the club, all with wild and staring eyes and a strong urge to fly but they seemed to be enjoying the experience. Were as Dave was totally gone, he was sat alone at the bar  spinning himself round&round on a bar stool whilst waving his hands in front of his face screaming.....'I'M BLIND  I'M BLIND'  He was last seen making a mad dash for it on his scooter and was later found by the cocky watchman back at the apartment block, slumped over his scooter in a big hole that some workmen had freshly dug up in the car-park that day (which was surrounded by fluorescent cones and flashing yellow lights, by the way).  The lads finished off the night with a party with a load of ladies  in one of their rooms which was described by one of the non party goers who poked his head around the door as 'like one of them Hieronymus Bosch  pictures - all contorted arms and limbs and mad expressions  of agony or exctasy on their grids...... I couldn't tell which.'


After the Katoi and yaba episodes what followed quickly was the motor bike incident. Some of the lads weren't content with the rev-and-rip efforts everyone was riding around and they needed something with abit more power  between their legs, 900-cc's of power to be precise. When they first hired them they were wheely'n' them up and down and showing off doing a few tricks - Rays racing driver mate said he had never seen anyone ride bikes like that before in his life!  From the moment the lads had hired the bikes they were, not to put a fine a point on it, stuck in a no-win situation from which there would only be one outcome, an accident. When the accident arrived it also involved a Thai brass who was a pillion passenger. The lad ended up with a few minor cuts and bruises but the poor girl lost all her front teeth and  a top lip and the reminder of her young nubile face had what I can only describe as a gravely five o'clock shadow. The lad true to his word sent a couple of grand over when he got home, so she could get a new set of pegs. Fair play to the fellow.Then came the hostage siege on Devils Island .


On the beach one day, the lads started to get a bit bored. So Ray suggested they go and hire a boat to take them to a small Island a few miles off the mainland, were he said there was a firing range with an abundance of Uzi's, shotguns and other assorted items of hardware to use. Well that was it, with a yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Singha the lads were off, all seven of them dressed virtually the same in different combinations of Lacoste/Paul&Shark polo's and  shorts (all snide of course). In this rust bucket of a speed boat looking like some latter day rapscallion pirates off on a grafting voyage of  the seven seas.


Upon reaching the island the boys wasted no time at all in getting stuck in at the range. Which was  a mistake that they later regretted. You see they jumped straight in with their wellies on and forgot to ask what it would cost. With their weapons speedily re-loaded by the eager workforce and with a good half an hour of continuos blasting of everything in sight, a few of the lads came down off there adrenaline rush shoot-out. When one of them noticed the price list nailed to the side of a shed and on seeing how dear it was, he hastily got the word round. The lads now communicating in back-slang ( I  don't know why because the Thai folk found it hard to understand them at the best of times) were contemplating doing  a runner. 'Labets jabust dabo wabon' was the favoured cry.


With the Thai's now sensing the animosity they called for reinforcements and  five Thai mush's appeared from nowhere. The lads knew they would never make it off the Island and realised that they never had enough to cover the bill (it worked out at about £3500) So after about an hour of negotiations they come to the agreement that four of them would be let free to go back to the mainland for the rest of the money and upon there return the other three would gain their freedom. The four lads who were free to go back to the mainland ended up on the booze with me, Dave and Ray ( who even pushed the boat out and had a white wine spritzer.)  Leaving the other lads to rot the night away with some Thai heavy's on the island. When the lads were set free later the next day we thought they would be telling us tales of being caged in a rat infested river and being forced to play Russian roulette with each-other but alas no. It was all quite friendly they said, with crates of singha shared and a sing song around the camp fire, with the lads teaching the Thai's some Everton songs.


With other escapades happening thick and fast which are even to risqué for Swine, the lads holiday finally came to an end. With the lads gone at least things could go back to normal- if waking up surrounded by 3 Thai brass is normal?- Ray carried on strutting his stuff and me and Dave just fed off his scraps. After another month of Rays gruelling sexathon me and Dave had to call it a day. We had one 'last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain, we could feel summer creepin' in and were getting  tired of this town again' . To be truthful Pattaya's sleaziness was getting to us and seeing old wrinkly German nonce's dressed in tight denim shorts, sandals and white socks walking hand-in-hand with young Thai boys down the beach everyday didn't help matters. Plus we had to get home and see if our vineyard had produced any grapes yet. So after bidding Ray a fond farewell we were off on another chapter of  this roller-coaster of a ride called life.

This article is in memory of one of the lads who tragically passed away recently.
RIP Sean - from a moody Transalpino to  a 5 star Las Vegas Casino - you were a one off.






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