Gay Murder in Paradise...

At about four in the morning, I was rudely awakened by the sound of shouting and banging from the bungalow next door.

“Peter! Look for me, Peter! Let me in!”

It was the voice of the slim young Thai man with the leopard skin briefs. (Although whether or not he was still wearing them I could not tell you – being way too tired to get up and look).

Bang, bang, bang! “Peter!” his voice was strident now and not soft and sensual like how it had been when I had met him on the path. “Look for me, Peter! I tell you!”

“Fuck off, you dirty f***ing slut! You dirty f***ing whore!”

It was the portly middle-aged German man. His voice was low, venomous and filled with hatred. “Fuck off back to your other boyfriend!”

“Not my other boyfriend, Peter! I love just you! I tell you!”

“Why were you…? (There then followed an unpleasantly graphic description of a sexual act) …then, eh? You were blatantly….(more unpleasantness) …at the Apache Bar. You filthy SLUT!”

His voice rose on the last word. Evidently, it was a subject he had strong feelings about.

“Not mean anything to me, Peter. Just fun for me. I love you, Peter! Let me in!”

“How can you love me when you only met me three days ago?! Now F*** OFF! I NEVER want to see you again!”

He was shouting harshly now. The slim Thai man didn’t like this.

“Look for me, Peter! I give your money back!” he suggested.

“F*** off!” “I tell you, Peter. I give your money back…it’s promise. I not go to Police now. Look for me…” “F*** OFF!”

This went on for several minutes with not much variation except that both mens' voices became increasingly emotional. Finally, the slim Thai man decided to change tactics.

”You not look for me, Peter! I DIE for you, Peter!” he shrieked. “I LOVE you, Peter!”
“F*** OFF!”

There came the sudden sound of smashing glass and then a low groan. “I die now, Peter! I die for you…” (Muffled sob.) “I die for you now, Peter… Look for me…”
...There then followed a short silence broken only by the (presumably) dying groans of the slim young Thai man. Then came sounds of doors opening, of people exclaiming and calling out. I recognized one of the voices as being that of friendly gay English man from the bungalow opposite.

"F***! Get a towel quick... doctor... he needs a doctor immediately... what happened?"

(The middle aged German man's voice - he sounded worried now). "He kept threatening to call the police... met him in a bar... came back late on drugs... crazy... slut... jealous... no need for police..."

(Other voices I did not recognise). "Is there a doctor on this island? Bind that towel more tightly... hasn't stopped bleeding... speedboat... need a speedboat... doctor on mainland..."
(Middle aged German) “Slut…I saw him giving that American a blowjob in the bar…f***ing slut! Paid him 5000 for this trip as well…”

(Friendly gay English man) "It's two grand for the speedboat...are you going to go with him?"

(Middle aged German man) "Yes, I'll go with him...slut! I'll pay for the boat... no need for police..."
He must have been in Thailand long enough to know that farang sex tourists are a major source of income to many low paid policemen.

I got and went to the window. The slim young Thai man was sitting in a pool of blood, a towel wrapped tightly around his forearm. He was still dressed in his skimpy leopard skin bathing trunks. A crowd of people gathered around him.

To be continued…

An absolutely wonderful day. Woke up, went for a swim… It was glorious clear, hot day. Had a delicious breakfast…fruit salad, toast and hot coffee then walked all the way down to Ao Wai with Jeab.

We saw some wonderful sights. A bitch dog joined us on our trek. Jeab proved to be made of stern stuff and did not complain during the long walk.

We lunched at Candlelight Beach and then returned to swim at Ao Nuan. After we had showered etc., we had the most delicious meal at Tubtim. The tofu and veg hotpot is a must if I ever return. (Ok, when I return!)

That night, the electricity failed on the whole island. The result was magical. Jeab and I went for a walk along the white beach in the moonlight. We stopped to sit on the sand. That moment will (I hope) live in my memory forever. The bright moonlight glinting on the calm sea and reflecting off the white sands. The tiny glowing oil lamps on the bamboo tables of the distant restaurant. The peaceful sound of the ocean and murmuring from the jungle. The power cut meant that music from the bars had stopped.

After a couple of hours, the electricity came back on. Now we could appreciate the little tree lights. The rather slushy music returned. It was time for bed.

We returned to our bungalow and brushed our teeth. We got into bed, glad of the cool breeze from the overhead fan and soon fell asleep.

Today I came to the paradise getaway that is Koh Samet. I headed for Tubtim Resort. Even though it is further south down the island there were only two bungalows left that were not booked.

This weekend is the King’s birthday so Samet Island is going to be very crowded. The first bungalow was grotty and old and priced at 600 baht a night, the other was a nice new one built out of teak for 800 baht. It is much more expensive than when I was last here but I did not hesitate. I went for the 800 baht one. Jeab is coming to join me from Bangkok tomorrow afternoon.

I pulled my Billabong board shorts from my rucksack and put them on. I went out of my bungalow and headed down the path to the white sandy beach. Koh Samet has possibly the best, talc powdery sand in Thailand.

A slim young Thai man dressed only in a tight pair of leopard skin swimming trunks was coming other way. He looked spookily like the baggage handler who had tried to pick me up at the airport. His soft brown eyes gave me the quick once over and he smiled.

“Helloooo!”

“Hi,” I said and continued down to the beach. I entered the water. It was silky to the touch and bathwater warm. I swam out to the raft. It was dusk now and I could feel but not see the shoal of fish that I was swimming through.

When I returned to my bungalow, I saw that the slim Thai man that I had met on the path was sitting on the veranda of the bungalow next to mine. He was with a portly middle-aged German man with a short grey beard. They were talking in low intimate voices. The Thai man was still dressed in only his leopard skin briefs and the German had his hand lightly resting on them. The two men looked over and smiled at me.

“Friendly sort of neighbours I’ve got here,” I mused. As I hung up my towel I noticed that on the veranda of the bungalow opposite, a fit-looking shaven headed man was sitting holding hands with a Thai youth. They both waved and smiled.

I went into my bungalow and locked the door while I showered.

Still in Bangkok. Met with Jeab at Starbucks. Some people hate Starbucks for all that it stands for. I think that it's a wonderful oasis from the stiffling pollution-filled heat of Bangkok streets! Here you can sit with a good cup of coffee for as long as you want, catch up with the latest western newspapers or just relax. :o)

Jeab took me to Wat Pathumwanaram, just off the material madness that is Siam Square. Surrounded on all sides by expensive shopping centres stocking the latest designer clothes, this temple complex is a quiet, leafy oasis of calm. Apparently it belongs to the King and therefore cannot be developed.

In Bangkok again. Met up with Kook - a distant cousin of mine on my mother's side. She took me sightseeing to Wat Phra Kaew - an absolutely amazing place and definately one of the must-see temples in Thailand.

It is incredibly hot though... especially with all those white painted walls - so a parasol is a good idea.

Here is a picture I took in the courtyard of the temple. In the background you can see paintings of the Ramayana. In the foreground is Kook herself.

Last day at Phi Phi. Got up early as I had to catch the 8.30am boat to Phuket. I ate a delicious continental breakfast and then headed for the pier. I walked down the little road that led past the massage shop. Pi Amy and all the other massage girls were waiting outside.

"Goodbye Khun Jow Chew!" they called laughingly. "Come back soon...and bring your brothers with you!"

"In three months!" I promised.

I got on the boat, stowed my backpack in the hold and then went back up on deck. It was a beautiful clear day and the sun was already very hot. Someone was waving to me from a boat next to mine. It was the couple from Colorado that I had met on Long Beach.

“We’re going to Krabi,” they called. “We’re gonna spend another week there and then fly back home. Come and visit us at our ski resort!”

The woman (her name was Linda, I think) hastily scribbled down her email address and phone number on a piece of paper and then threw it across to me.

“Email me when you get home or give me a call!” she said. “We’d love to see you again.”

I pocketed her contact details. “Sure!” I said, knowing that by the time I got round to it, they would have moved on or I would. Travel is like that. You meet people somewhere and are best of friends while you’re in the same place, eating at the same restaurants, swimming off the same beach – but once you leave; it’s never the same.

In fact, I mused, as our respective boats moved off and we waved each other out of sight, life is a bit like that. You meet someone when you both happen to be on the same wavelength, the same plain for whatever reason…and then it isn’t long before you drift apart again. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s completely natural…but some people just don’t realise it. And then they wonder why their relationship isn’t what it used to be.

The big boat gathered speed. I went to the very front pointy bit and sat down in the bright tropical sunlight, holding onto the rail with both hands and letting my legs dangle over the edge. From somewhere over the horizon, the island of Phuket rushed towards me.

Another really fantastic day. Sunbathe in the morning. Walked to Hippy Bar in the afternoon to look for a DJ called Phin who had borrowed my UK plug adapter the day before.

The bar was empty. I spotted a man sitting on the beach wall, staring out to sea. I went over to him.

“Does somebody work here called Phin? He’s a DJ.”

“Phin? Curly hair?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“Phin not here. Come this evening.”

I went to visit Yod and Anne who worked at the internet shop and had both agreed to be my “kik” the previous day.

“Khun Ben has come!” they greeted me. “Sit down and have some fruit with us.”

I sat down. Anne gave me some strange-looking but delicious fruit and Yod stood behind my chair massaging my shoulders.

“We are just about to finish work,” she said. “Would you like to come back to our room with us?”

“Only if you give me a massage!” I said and they both laughed.

“Oh, he is crazy about massage!” said Yod. “Ok, Yod will give you a massage. The Ladyboy is there too.”

The “Ladyboy” was Yod’s friend who lived with Yod, Anne and Anne’s younger sister. In England, the Ladyboy would have been a sought after girl. She was tall, strong-limbed and slim with a sexy body. To the Thais though she looked like a ladyboy. Her naturally deep voice did not help her here. Also she was called “Dick” which, although a common enough name in Thailand for a girl, is not a good name for a girl who is not a ladyboy.

Yod assured me that Dick was 100% woman. “Yod has known her since she was 12, I often grab hold of her sex – I’m like that with my friends – and she has her periods every month. She is all woman.”

We left the internet shop and headed along the dirt road that led to the centre of the island. We soon turned off the main track and climbed a steep uneven path towards some bamboo huts on stilts amongst the trees. Three fresh faced, clean cut Americans were coming the other way, their faces radiant with wholesome joy.

“We’ve just been to the viewpoint and saw these trees with a kinda weird white stuff coming outta them,” they told us. “And there’s cups collecting the liquid. What are they?”

“Rubber trees,” said Yod. “We use it to make shoes.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” enthused the Americans. “Well, thanks for telling us! Have a good day!”

And off they went.

We climbed the steps to Yod’s and Anne’s bungalow and went in. The Ladyboy appeared from the bathroom, her hair wet and a towel wrapped around her breasts.

“Hello!” she beamed at me. “How are you?”

She selected a pair of white knickers from a drawer and proceeded to climb into them.

I sat down on the bed. The walls were made of bamboo weave. A “Dukka” lizard called from a nearby tree. The three girls started talking in a rapid Southern dialect which I could not follow. I got up to go to the bathroom. When I came back Yod was alone.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Pi Anne and the Ladyboy have gone to the market to buy food,” she said, smiling. “Would you like a oil massage, Pi Ben?”

“Sure!” I said.

“You need to take off your shorts,” said Yod.

I stripped down to my boxers and lay face down on the bed. It was about six in the evening and the light was fading. Yod got some fragrant oil out of a cupboard and started to work it into my back with practised hands. She was very good. The “Dukka” lizard called lewdly from his tree.

“F*** you! F*** you!” he said.

Anyone who has visited the countryside of Thailand will have heard these “Dukka” lizards. These dark Gollum-like reptiles are rarely seen but often heard. They are about a foot long with big bulging eys and have a surprisingly deep and loud voice. In places far from the tourist trail, their territorial cry usually sounds like “Dukkaaar!” hence the Thai name for them. But I have often noted that on popular islands their cry has evolved to a definite and defiant “F*** you!” If you don’t believe me then go and listen for yourself. This is clearly another example of Western Tourism corrupting local culture and values.

However, I was not put out at the lizard’s comment. I stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feeling of Yod’s hands. Another lizard from another bungalow added his own advice.

“F*** her!” he urged. “F*** herrrrr!”

(I swear that all this is true. These lizards sounded exactly like that!)


It was properly dark by the time I left the bungalow. I went to Hippy Bar to see if Phin had turned up yet. There were quite a few people there now. I made my way to the bar.

“Is Phin here yet?

“Phin? Curly hair?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, he’s left for Phuket.”

Toe-rag! Still, I had rather expected this. I returned to my room at Cheap Charlies again.

Have moved out of my mosquito-infested room to a superb double air conditioned place with hot water, no ants, mossies etc for 700 baht. The air conditioning is silent as well. It really is so worth paying the extra.

My room is, coincidentally, above Anne’s shop, Cheap Charlies. It could be interesting. My ticket to Bangkok cost 1,800 baht.


Oh my God! What an afternoon! Went to Phi Phi Lee - an amazing, awe-inspiring, terrifying experience.

Phi Phi Lee is an island almost completely surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs that tower some 500 feet straight up from the ocean. It is an immense fortified castle built by nature.

To enter, we had to anchor the boat and then swim through heavy seas to a small cave that led through to the inside of the "castle" walls. It was a trip so dangerous, so crazy but we all made it through unhurt except for a couple of grazes.

I was the last to go, not sure how foolhardy it would be. But at last I swam towards the cave, accompanied by a big school of tiger fish and a couple of bright turquoise fish over two feet long. I trod water for a bit at the entrance and then warily entered.

The cave was no more than 20 feet deep. I went through to the other side - and found myself in a dream world.

It was strangely hushed, the cliffs towered just as sheer on the inside as they did on the outside and blocked out the roar of the ocean. Green leafy trees grew up straight and tall with no wind to bend them. The atmosphere was magical, ancient and I was alone. It seemed impossible that this was a real place in the waking world. It was timeless, surreal. This is what the great forests that once covered England must have felt like. Butterflies fluttered by but no birds sang. Despite the countless people that must have come through here in recent years, the place had a forgotten feel to it. This was a lost world.

A white sandy path stretched ahead of me through the dim greenness of the forest and, dazedly, I followed it. There were footprints on the sand of people that had gone before but as everyone from the boat had swum barefoot here the prints were of unshod savages. Time still had not touched this island.

Soon, two paths diverged in a green leafy wood and I took the path more trodden by. On it led. Now, faintly, I heard the roar of the ocean.

Ahead, a magnolia type of tree bent over to from a natural arch. Through it I could see white sand and turquoise sea.

I had arrived at a secret bay, accessible to the ocean by a narrow gateway in the towering limestone cliffs. Through this strait, a small boat may only pass when the sea is flat calm. Weird stalagmites hung down from the overhanging cliffs. An old tree trunk, fashioned into fantastic shapes by the sea, lay half buried in the sand. The wood was bleached white by the fierce tropical sun. The rest of the boat party stood snapping pictures or playing in the waves near the shore.

I took pictures on my camera and also for a girl who had sent her camera ashore in the waterproof rucksack but had been too terrified to pass through the cave.

All too soon it was time to leave. This is a recurring theme on Koh Phi Phi. Time passes too swiftly.

Back to the cave we went. But now danger awaited us. During the hour we’d been on the secret island, the tide had risen considerably. This meant that the tunnel through the gateway cave was now half underwater. To make matters worse, the wind had picked up and the sky was growing fierce. Big powerful waves were crashing over the small cave mouth outside causing water to explode with dangerous force out from the tunnel.

One by one, people went through, clinging onto the rope as they went down the drop into the tunnel, stumbling on the rocky bottom while waves tried to dash them against the dark walls of the cave. It was a very slow process as the sea was now too fierce to swim to the boat and the boatmen were having to pick people up one by one on the kayak.

Darkness fell. It started to rain. Large mosquito Orcs, sensing impending doom, swooped down and began to feast upon the defenceless half-naked bodies. Most people were too scared at the sight of the fearsome tunnel that they knew they would soon have to pass through to even notice the diabolical creatures. And the Orcs chuckled evilly to each other.

“Woooooh! Farung blood! So sweet! Waaaaaahey!”

It grew more and more dangerous as time passed. One girl was almost paralysed with fear. All around me, people were trying to talk themselves into facing the awful journey.

“Cmon, cmon…we can do this! We’re not gonna die…it can’t be that bad…”

A big muscular German man with close cropped blond hair and sporting a black eye took command.

“Everybody is forming an orderly queue,” he told us sternly. “Women and weak swimmers at the front.”

People moved gladly to obey. The big German seated himself just above the mouth of the tunnel, seemingly unfazed by the violent explosions of water that regularly issued forth and tried to knock him off his perch.

“I was a year in the army,” he told me, as he watched the water being sucked back into the tunnel with a calculating eye. “It was compulsory in my country. EVERYBODY should be made to do National Service – it prepares people for situations like this. There is a danger and somebody needs to look after everybody. You have to watch the situation and see how it is. It is common sense.

“Go down the drop backwards and hold onto the rope,” he told a shaking woman. “It is like abseiling. You have seen how other people have slipped. You can avoid this.”

On by one, people passed into the menacing tunnel. The sea was growing fiercer as the wind picked up. Surging waters tugged fiercely at them as they stumbled blindly on the rocky bottom. One girl was thrown against the rocks and bashed her head. She went limp and was washed out to the man on the kayak outside. Her friend thought she was dead but we later found out that she was simply groggy. It grew steadily darker.

Now there were only three of us left and the water was up to the roof of the cave. The big German surveyed the scene calmly.

“That man is very nervous. I think he should go next,” he told me. “I myself will go last.”

The man disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. Now it was my turn. I stood by the mouth of the tunnel and waited. A big wave sent a surge of water rushing through. I staggered and clung to the rocks as the swirling torrent tried to knock my feet out from under me. The waters receded with a greedy slurping noise.

“Now!” ordered the German. “Quickly!”

I grabbed the robe and jumped down the drop. I landed awkwardly on the uneven rocky bottom. I moved forward and a big wave came thundering through. I held my breath and hung onto the rope. I was underwater and could see nothing. The water sucked out again. The man on the kayak was waiting anxiously outside the cave, back-paddling against the heavy swell.

“Swim!” he called. “Swim to me!”

Another big wave came out of nowhere and threw me viciously against the cliff. I tucked my head down and absorbed the impact with my padded life vest. I was underwater again in a crazy spinning world of form. My bare feet grated brutally against the sharp rocks as I tried to fend off the worst of it. I clung onto the rope and waited.

I surfaced. The kayak was only yards away. I swam with all my might to it. The lights of the big boat were glimmering through the darkness some 200 yards away. I reached the kayak, pulled myself aboard and lay there exhausted. I had made it!


Oh yeah, snorkelling was great as well. Big shoals of tiger fish, a swordfish (well, it looked like one!), lots of weird and wonderful cartoon fish, a bright turquoise creature nearly 3 feet long with no tail…

I want to stay here! A really good day. Up at 8.30. Full continental breakfast. Rest of the morning in the sun on the beach. So many chuss! Then afternoon off to Long Beach. Absolutely AMAZING! And I have no time to stay there. A room can be had for as little as 300 baht a night. No bathroom though. Met some nice people there – an American couple from Colorado and a rather lovely 22 year old Mexican girl. The American couple were ski instructors and, with typical American friendliness, invited me to come and stay at their ski resort.

There were lots of chuss there as well – out for it. As is usually the case, it’s the quieter beaches you need to go for the chuss.

The Rock Guesthouse 200 baht for a single room. Attached restaurant serves full continental breakfast for 50 baht.

My best stroke of luck was on the return journey. The two busy girls at our old restaurant – which I had initially assumed to be taken Muslim girls – told me that both their husbands had run off with other women – this is a common story in Thailand.

Anyway, after a bit of discussion, they both agreed to be my “kik” and massage me for free. They took me to see a bungalow for rent just down from theirs. It’s 300 baht a night. A really nice one as well with a big king sized bed. Perfect.

Am definitely gonna change my room. It’s so dark without any windows – the mosquito orcs are having a field day. Also I spotted a loathsome cockroach scurrying from under the wardrobe. I hate the sight of these creatures.

Went to book my air ticket back to Bangkok and met an amazing Thai chuss at the travel agents called Anne. She’s 24 and very friendly. Typical. It never rains but it pours…and at the last minute as well!

Me at the other viewpoint, Koh Phi Phi

View from the viewpoint, Koh Phi Phi

Yesterday I visited the island’s two viewpoints. Incredible views, rather dodgy trek through leech infested rain forest (well, it looked like leech territory anyway!). Scores of tiny brightly coloured tropical birds flitting around and two orange buzzard sized birds gliding over the forest canopy.

The climb to the first viewpoint was very steep. It poured with rain too and a gang of large mosquito orcs from Mordor ambushed me.

I was dressed only in my Billabong board shorts and I lost a lot of blood. But if the Dark Forces hoped to stop me then they were severely disappointed. Ben, son of Brian, Great Palm Reader and Unacclaimed Genius was made of much sterner stuff. He won through. The Covenant retreated.

Last night I got only 2 hours sleep and as a result am shattered. I now sit in Phi Phi Bakery, drinking a whole pot of Earl Grey. Mosquitoes, ants and a Half Moon party at the nearby Hippy Bar were responsible for this. To add insult to injury, just when I was finally starting to doze off, the German (I think) couple next door decided to have sex at 4am… Thankfully, they were not French so it only lasted 10 minutes or so.

But after breakfast, things started to look up. I had an absolutely incredible massage. It started off as traditional and ended up with oil. It was a deeply soothing, relaxing and uplifting experience and the massage girls giggled at the awakened one within my shorts. I felt well and refreshed. A worthy sleep substitute.

I think my brothers would go crazy here!

My plans for a Maya Beach tour had to be shelved though. It rained non-stop after lunch. I spent the afternoon in the massage shop trying to help Pi Amy, Pi Mear, Pi Joy and Pi Porn get female customers into the shop. I was fed with green mango and bananas.

Noom left for Phuket this afternoon. He told me that he “needed to visit a brothel”. I checked out of the bungalow and have taken a more secure room closer to the action. Unfortunately there aren’t really any windows and quite a few dastardly mosquitoes. I think I am going to have to change again.

I really want to go for a massage this evening but I must try and contain my spending. Already I have spent close to my 1,000 baht daily allowance.

Rather horrendous day to start with. Up at 6, hopelessly late for airport. My Thai friend Pi Noom called the airline from his car and told them that we were on our way and could they please wait for us? Arrived 15 minutes after the gates were closed…Incredibly, Noom managed to wrangle it through.

He dropped me off at the entrance to pick up the tickets and I then had to wait for a nail-biting 10 minutes while he parked the car and I was pestered by first the woman from the airline helpdesk and then by the campest airline flight attendant in Thailand who tried to pick me up. The conversation went something like this.

Gay Flight Attendant (Wide-eyed, smiling and batting eyelids): Where you go my frieeeeeend?

Me (Trying to put my suitcase between myself and my aggressor and looking around anxiously for Noom) : Erm…I…I’m going with my friend. Damn it! Where is he?

Woman from the airline: Look at the time! The gates are closed! I thought your friend said that you would be here 15 minutes ago! We can’t wait any longer…the plane is going to take off.

Gay Flight Attendant (Smiling sweetly up into my eyes): Mmmm! That’s lovely! Is it a male frieeend or just maybe….?

Me (distractedly): Yeah it is. (Turning to the woman) I don’t know what on earth he’s doing…he should be here at any moment…

Gay Flight Attendant: Mmmmm. Is it your brother you’re going with? You’re very handsome, you know. Is this your first time in Thailand? You’re got lovely skin naaa…

At last Noom arrived, unruffled as ever. Calmly, he soothed the frantic woman from the airline. A car whisked us out to the plane where everybody was waiting. It was all very VIP and rather embarrassing. I settled down in my seat and thankfully gulped my first coffee of the morning.

After the plane touched down there then followed a rather dismal series of various people trying to rob us. The girls at the so-called “Airport Information Centre”, the usual gang of taxi, tuk-tuk and songtaw drivers at the bus station and then finally the boat company at the pier who tried to charge us 850 baht instead of 300…

But never mind, Koh Phi Phi is simply mind-blowing. It is by far and away the most spectacularly beautiful place I have ever visited. The pictures simply do not do it justice. The sheer limestone cliffs rise straight from the Andaman Sea and tower above the toy-like boats beneath. Dense tropical growths hang from the rocks. Lush rainforests cover the island centre.

Some parts of the island are expensive and commercial but there is plenty of room for peace and quiet in very affordable surroundings. Currently, we are paying 400 baht a night for a very basic bungalow. But two girls I met today are paying 300 baht.

We swam, showered and then headed into the busy centre of Phi Phi for a meal. As we walked along the narrow touristy street, girls called to us from the shop doorways.

“Helloooo? You want Thai Massaaaage? Make you very relaxed, very happeeee!”

Noom was hungry…but being a Thai man meant that he couldn’t resist the thought of a massage. Thais are gluttons for any kind of massage. He slowed to a halt.

“How much, please?”

“Two hundred. Make you very relaxed, very happeeee na!”

I could see that Noom was tempted. “Does that include “Happy Ending”?” he enquired.

A tall stout Amazon of a girl stepped forward. She was a true Southern Thai with dusky skin and powerful arms and shoulders. Many Thai girls from poorer backgrounds practise “Muay Thai” or Kickboxing as it is know in the West.

“Yes…a Happy Ending with this!” And she brandished a useful looking fist in his face.

Arriving at Koh Phi Phi.

Now in Bangkok and staying at the White Lodge. A spotless room with air-con and attached bathroom with hot water costs 400baht – half the price of the Wendy House down the road. My Lonely Planet guidebook was obviously wrong about Wendy House being cheaper.

One of the things that I love about travelling alone is the sheer randomness of everything. I wanted to catch the bus from Don Muang to Bangkok to avoid paying the 400baht taxi fare. It should have been simple.

It wasn’t. Instead, I found myself paying 10baht for an open-windowed train to Hualamphong Station and ended up in a Thai hotel room with Noi, a 26 year old girl who wears clothes from 200 years ago and is a classical Thai dancer.

Noi soon filled me in on the “correct” behaviour between old school Thai couples. The woman’s bed must be lower than the man’s. If he wanted to sleep with her then he could come to her bed but she could not come to his. She must “wai” (fold hands respectfully together in a praying motion) to him before he touched her and then she must wipe his feet with her hair before he lay with her.

Thais did not kiss, continued Noi. Instead they "sniffed" each other. No mouth to mouth, tongues etc.? No, certainly not.

Sex between them was as gloomy and joyless as the foreplay. Her pleasure did not matter. Any positions that involved her taking the initiative were “wrong”. A slight concession to modern practices was that he was now allowed to kiss her breasts. Before it was considered degrading to him to kiss below her neck. Oral sex was, naturally, out of the question.

I asked her how often a Thai couple would have sex. She said “maybe once or twice a month”. No wonder, I thought.

However, usually the man would get it more often than the woman. In Thailand it is considered normal for a man to be “jow chew” (promiscuous) and although Thai women don’t like it they tolerate it. It is not uncommon for him to have several “kiks” as well as a main girlfriend or wife. A “kik” is a person described by Thais as being “more than a friend and less than a girlfriend/boyfriend”. Women sometimes have several “kiks” but this is (apparently) not usual among “respectable” girls.

It wasn't until I'd been in Thailand for two months that I found out that "respectable" women always lie about anything to do with sex....

My next destination is Thailand. The irresistible double pull of Pleasure and Work call me there. A friend has recommended Koh Phi Phi...no doubt I shall check it out.

On Sunday I went to Honfleur - a medieval seaside town about 180km west of Paris.

The town itself was stunning with narrow cobbled streets full of romantic looking buildings in a state of glorious decay.

But it was hot - so hot! And the "15 minute" walk to the beach turned out to be only 15 minutes if you happened to walk at 50 miles per hour...

When we finally got there, we found that the sea had gone off on holiday, leaving only burning hot sands and mud stretching as far as the eye could see. The heat was killing and there was no shade.

I found it all a bit too much - especially as we soon ran out of water. But my hostess was in her element.

"I am going to get a tan," she announced and proceeded to roast herself topless.

Remembering my desert training, I curled up into a defensive ball and covered myself completely with a big towel. I then prepared to collect my own urine and waited patiently for a camel. It was pure textbook stuff.

The drive to Honfleur was also very interesting. The French countryside was glorious on that hot, sunny afternoon. Most of the houses were thatched with shutters and there were bright flowers everywhere.

We drove through a lovely forest. I noticed a plastic carrier bag tied to a stick by a nice little secluded path that led off into the trees. A short distance down this idyllic trail, but still visible from the road, a young woman was waiting.

I thought nothing of it at first - perhaps she was writing poetry or maybe starting to think about it. But as we drove on, I began to notice more plastic bags on sticks, indicating more secluded trails and more scantily dressed women lying in wait.

It began to feel like something out of the Odyssey. Fortunately, my hostess was driving and I was not rowing so there was no need to fill my ears with wax or bid my men bind me to the mast.

Another lucky escape then.

La Tour Eiffel

Am having a really wonderful time here. Paris is much better than I expected it to be. In fact, I prefer it to Vienna. There are some wonderful parks, the streets, avenues and people are very interesting and of course there are the buildings.

Yesterday I stood by the tomb of the unknown soldier under the Arc De Triomphe and climbed - literally - the Effel tower. There was a huge queue for the lifts so we decided to use the stairs instead.

Up and up we went in an endless curve of spiral staircase. Apparently, in Edwardian days, sporty young men would see who could run up the 1,652 steps in the shortest time. The best times would then be printed in the local paper!

The tower really in a marvel of 19th century engineering. Although the tower is 300m/984ft tall, the sway at the top is never more than 4 and a half inches - although its height can vary by as much as 6 inches due to the temperature.

The Arc De Triomphe is absolutely amazingly overpowering when you stand right underneath it. One can imagine what foreigners must have thought when they beheld it for the first time back in the 19th century.

Another very interesting place that we visited was the American Cathedral. This was built in the late 19th century but in is the gothic style. It really is an incredibly piece of architecture. In fact it reminds me strongly of Oxford.

My hostess is really very good. She has a lovely flat full of all my favourite books and with a balcony overlooking a large private garden. It's lovely to sit out there as it is very quiet and the only sound is of birdsong and occasionally the sound of the man across the way playing his classical guitar. Also, the weather here is very agreeable - 25C and sunny.

All in all, this is a very conducive for writing...only I forgot to take my notepad so today I am going to buy one.

I am strongly tempted to postpone my return to England until next week as it will not be possible for me to come and visit Paris again until next year. Also, there are so many places to visit and it's so much better if you don't have to rush around like a mad tourist!

Just landed in Versailles...

Now that I've got my obituary out of the way, I can get on with my life.

I am now in Paris for a week. I only just managed to catch my flight yesterday. My planned rout was: Train to Exeter, bus to Exeter bus station and then another bus from the bus station to the airport. I checked it all out on the internet and it seemed that I should get there in plenty of time.

However, I had not banked on Public Transport!

The train was fine - we actually had a driver who bothered to turn up on time - but the connecting bus to the bus station did not show up. I asked a bus driver where it was and he said "It's the next bus"

I got on the next bus and asked if this was the bus going to the station. He said "No, that bus isn't turning up - he's lost somewhere."

The bus driver then told me that he was going to the station as the other bus was lost so, sonewhat relieved, I paid my fare and sat down.

According to the time table, there should have been only one stop to the station but my bus ambled slowly through town, stopping frequently to pick up or drop off passengers. Sometimes it just stopped for the sheer hell of it and waited hopefully for people to board or unboard.

Finally, it gave itself a little shake and set off into the country at a steady trot - rather like a spaniel when it thinks it's onto a scent.

I looked at my watch and saw that I wasn't going to be able to catch the bus from the station to the airport. It was now quarter to five, my flight was at half five and I should haved checked in 15 minutes ago.

I turned to the lady next to me and asked how long it was until we got to the station.

"Oh, we passed it ten minutes ago," she said placidly. "Did you want to go there?"

"I thought the bus would stop in it," I said. "On the timetable it says that its the last stop and it pulls into row 26. I need to go to the airport."

"Oh no, that's the next bus," she said. "Well you've missed the bus to the airport - won't be another for an hour. I hope you weren't wanting to catch a plane!"

She laughed a little at the absurdity of such a possiblity.

"Yes," I said tersely. "That's why I want to go to the airport - to catch a plane!"

She stared wonderingly at me. "To catch a plane?! Well then, you'll miss it! Hang on, I'll go and speak to the driver."

"A plane?" repeated the driver wonderingly when he heard my story. "Where are you flying to to?"

"Paris," I said hopefully. "Do you know it?"

It seemed highly unlikely that the bus driver would have a private plane stashed away nearby, ready to fly me to France - but I was willing to clutch at even damp straws.

"Paris?" repeated the driver, his voice vibrating with joy. "Why, I used to have a girlfriend there!"

Suddenly everyone was very helpful. The driver got on his radio and asked head office if it might not be possible that I could pick up the airport bus on rout somewhere. It wasn't. A taxi was now the only option.

The next stop was the hospital. Out I leapt in search of a taxi. But there were no taxis. The only taxi driver I managed to find told me that he wasn't allowed to pick up passengers from the hospital. Perhaps it was against Health and Safety. I had no time to investigate. I leapt back on the bus again.

"Our next stop is the Met Office," said the driver. "If I was you I'd phone for a taxi to pick you up from there. We should be there in ten minutes if the traffic isn't too bad."

"A goodly idea," said I, feeling nevertheless that it was beginning to look like a lost cause. (It was now five minutes to five.) "Do you know the number of a local firm?"

He shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't use taxis," he said gloomily.

"Four three four three four three!" shouted the last remaining passenger on the bus.

"Thanks!" I said and rapidly dialed the number. I ordered the taxi and sat back as the bus screeched off towards the Met Office.

I got to the airport at 5.15 and ran to the flybe check in desk. There was nobody there. Even the other check in desks were deserted. I ran round the place a few times with my rucksack - perhaps people would be drawn to where the action was.

Finally a girl appeared at the far end of the building and approached me cautiously.

"Can I help?" she asked.

"LateformyflighttoParis!" I shouted breathlessly. "CanIgoonthrough?"

"I just go and ask my superviser," she said. "But I think you're too late - the gates are shut."

After about five minutes her superviser came through. "We were boarding twenty minutes ago," she told me sternly. "The gates are shut."

I saw that now was the time for the gloves to come off - it was my last chance. I pulled out my British Passport and thrust it at her. She took it and, with a sneer, opened it;

The crazed vampire's face with its long lank hair leered up from the battered pages...her hand flew to her mouth to stiffle a scream...

The gates were reopened and i was allowed to board.

Obituary

Ben Taylor, who ascended peacefully to Heaven last Thursday, was a noted Psychic and Palm Reader who was used by many of the world's most powerful leaders. He also wrote the cult novel Nowhere Children Inc. which was to become a favourite bedtime book for many of America's high fliers and criminals.

A genuine interest in people from all walks of life led him to realise the horrors of Work and Responsibility and, for much of his adulthood, he was always one step ahead of these two social evils.

Ben Taylor was born Ben Taylor into the family of Taylors, who were well known for their wild and sometimes disturbing eccentricities. Along with his three sisters and two brothers he was educated at home. Afterwards, he followed the family tradition amongst the Taylor males by going to Trinity College, Oxford but failed to come away with any qualifications. In fact, to this day, there is still no record of him on their books.

He was a man of simple tastes and pleasures, the exception being an obsession with expensive cars. However, his dislike of responsibility meant that he never actually owned any of these cars but instead drove those belonging to friends or relatives.

He was fond of playing music and meeting unusual people. By his own admission, he never really grew up and, even in his late twenties, delighted in startling visitors by appearing suddenly in an afro wig.

He regarded Birth and Marriage as self-inflicted miseries and also disliked long-term relationships. He preferred to live alone with either three dogs or cats and once remarked that “When animals are annoying, you can just shut them outside – but you can’t do that with wives and children, can you?”

At his request, at his funeral, his father read from the Book of Ecclesiastes, “Vanity of vanities, sayeth the Preacher. All is vanity…”