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Kinky Skanks in Skimpy Skirts (And Other Things)


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Recently, I was thinking about what is missing in Thailand – and I know that just about everything that one can buy, or would want to buy in the West, is readily available in Thailand (and quite a bit more) but I have never seen anywhere
you can buy a soup or porridge sandwich. So I have decided to start up a franchise for a string of outlets and have decided to call it “Chalermchai's Soup Burger and Porridge Sandwich Emporium”.

This is something that should take off like the Space Shuttle because Thais love anything new and the many ex-pats in Thailand (particularly the Brits) will be flocking to my emporia to partake of something most have not tasted for quite
a long time. In “The Old Dart” there is a resurgence of popularity for porridge for breakfast as fast food at present – why not for lunch and dinner? This is going to be a real “goer”. Oh yes, I can see it now
– in my emporia there will be a floor show, of course, with exotic pole dancers – kinky Skanks in skimpy skirts (apologies to Dana) – and ladyboys, serving the eager patrons with whatever their hearts desire. I can't
resist Skanks, they're so erotic. My friend Rodney is very keen to be in on the action with this and has expressed a desire to do the choreography for the dance troupe – and of course he will be the principal dancer in our main emporium.

Rodney is quite a versatile person and he has given me some ideas to supplement the menu for my emporia – he thinks we need to have a desert menu and here are some of his suggestions:

Sweet dough Elephant's Ears (Boston Buns) with chilli sour-fish icing

Fingers of home-made Scotch shortbread presented as a biscuit sandwich with an appetising layer of larp in between

Sweet cheesecake garnished liberally with sweet and sour fish strips

Compote of diced durian with iced green mussels

Further suggestions to add to the menu are welcome from readers.

I was thinking that it wouldn't take long for the word to get around and there would soon be a demand for my emporia in all the major cities in the Provinces so we may need to put quite a few people on the payroll so we stay ahead of
the game. I'm going to put Rodney in charge of hiring the staff as I think he's done a fine job of selecting the desert menu – and he has already organised a first-class line-up of dancers and ladyboys for when the first emporium
opens early next month in an exclusive little vacant premises he discovered – in one of the classier areas of Khlong Toey, not far from the Shell Oil depot, so he tells me.

Apart from being an excellent administrator, talented dancer and very good at public relations, Rodney sometimes hides his light under a bushel as he never talks about his famous family's history. Rodney comes from Lopburi and although
he uses a Farang name his Thai name is Prasoet Siyanon – but we'll keep calling him Rodney as it's easier to say (and write). His family founded that famous company “Siyanon's Samlors and Rickshaws” –
and you'll probably remember the marvellous service they used to provide between Lopburi and Bangkok and between Bangkok and Pattaya, before motor transport was readily available. They had a spot of bother for the first few years of operation
as the riders and runners seemed unable to handle the distance – some of them collapsed on the job and quit while a few died for want of breath, sadly, but Rodney's grandfather, Khun Siyanon Snr, could never understand why. This caused
untold Union strife so they changed to motorised samlors but it was never as successful after that. Perhaps it's just as well the company was closed down by the time Rodney came along as I doubt he would have had the stamina for that work
anyhow.

Rodney's best friend, Somchai Somchai (Somchai is also the family name), comes from a well-to-do family and they sent him to America to be educated in one of the prominent Colleges, where he majored in Psychology. I shouldn't say
anything, as I don't wish to cause embarrassment to Somchai's family, but Somchai had a bit of trouble over there [the family never talk about this]. I only found out after Rodney left this document on the table – it is the unfinished
thesis Somchai was preparing to submit to Johns Hopkins for admittance for a Masters degree course. He sent this copy to Rodney for his opinion, from America, and included a few notes at the conclusion, taken from his diary.

***

Somchai's thesis – with addenda:

A Thesis On Advanced Child Management – by Somchai Somchai:

Having observed the lifestyle in America I've written my unabridged dissertation on child management that I'm hoping will result in my earning an honorary Doctorate – perhaps even gaining consideration for a Nobel Peace Prize
award. But it's strange that someone with such high humanitarian ethics as myself, should admit to not really being that keen on children at all – no, I don't really like them. Even as a child, I didn't like children –
irresponsible little megalomaniacs who should be kept in cages until they turn 21. The only reason for letting them out then is because I see that, after 21 years of being waited on hand-and-foot, it's their turn to do the waiting on their
long-suffering parents.

Children should only be bred for one purpose – and that is to look after their parents in their declining years. The way I see it, declining years begin once the children turn 21. Seriously though, it's no fun spending your prime
years slaving away at a job that you hate when you could be out playing takraw, riding your polo ponies or having a few bottles of Mekong with your mates down at the local bar or neighbourhood knocking shop. What's the point of having a dog
and barking yourself?

I got this idea in America about going into business after I thought about all those poor women who have to endure the harassment of the little sods they are forced to take on shopping expeditions. I figured that I could weld up these metal
non-cage security compartments and install them outside all of the major shopping centres – you know, like those coin-operated lockers that one finds at railway stations. Anyhow, for a 20 Baht coin, the children could be deposited in one
of these non-cage security compartments for the duration of the visit and the poor woman could have a little peace and quiet while she shopped at leisure. You will note these compartments are not cages – I have named them “non-cages”
so the parents will not feel any guilt or stigma.

Of course there would be water bottles provided for the occupants and an attendant could be engaged for a pittance to see to the needs of any children requiring food during their stay. Dry bread is much better for children than greasy fast
foods. I haven't done a lot of market research but I'm sure this idea would be greeted with enthusiasm by centre managements and parents alike. Personally though, I can't see why any parents would want to go to the trouble and expense
of taking the little “darlings” with them – much simpler to slip a couple of Valium into the breakfast cereal then put them to bed where no harm can come to them.

My College associate, Randall, suggested that it would be a good idea to tell recalcitrant children that, if they didn't behave, you would bloody-well break an arm off and hit them over the head with it. I don't think I'd go
that far. Much better to administer a light clip over the ear, followed by a gentle knuckling on the top of the head – it works wonders. Perhaps it would be a good precaution for the ladies to have a spare mouth-gag in the handbag in case
the child starts a screaming tantrum. I know one lady, Khun Smegma, who told me that a rolled-up Saturday newspaper brought down sharply on top of the head was guaranteed to bring any child out of a tantrum. I can't see why not – after
all it works every time on Hector the dog when he won't stop chasing taxis. Anyhow, she swears it works every time on her children so I'll take her word for it.

The way I see it there is far too much psychology and “claptrap” involved in current child management. My grandfather was of the old school – an ex-Navy man. If the boys were disobedient, they were tied to the fence post
and beaten with a horsewhip. It didn't hurt them – as a matter of fact it did them a lot of good. They used to thank gramps for the beatings and we never had any murderers, rapists, vandals or graffiti merchants in our family –
except Uncle Puey was a bit odd.

Children need guidance to help them on their way toward becoming useful adults – and by useful, I mean someone who can be trusted to mow the lawn and tend to all of the household chores that adults shouldn't have to worry about,
like cooking, cleaning, washing and being a general-factotum. One only has to look at the satisfaction gained by children who were introduced to the coal mining industry in Britain at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. A pit boy's
life was interesting and gave the lad a close affinity with animals – namely, the horse.

The atmosphere of the work-house imbued the child workers with a sense of belonging and gave them the necessary fortitude and moral fibre to become responsible and useful assets to their employers. None of this mamby-pamby sweat-shop nonsense
we see in Asia – the work-house built character in a person. Even young girls received invaluable training that was to stand many of them in good stead in later married life for when they married a Farang. Sadly though, there are very few
children today who could be trusted to ride a tricycle unless it was fitted with trainer wheels – let alone being trained to dig holes with a pick and shovel. Their brains and muscles seem to be condemned to a constant state of atrophy
through years of conditioned laziness from being waited on hand-and-foot. We have been saddled with this ridiculous concept of “Year of The Child” that was proclaimed in 1979 and has burgeoned forth a virtual avalanche of reform
aimed at giving the useless little sods even more freedom to exercise their well-ingrained laziness. Under legislation, it is now unlawful to discipline the horrible little beasts, so we are faced with a scenario that is too terrible to contemplate
in which self-indulgence and mayhem has become the order of the day.

My proposal is quite simple to counter this – bring back flogging. The Cat-of-nine-tails and the birch were adequate deterrents for all who strayed from the path of normality. Children need guidance and the best guidance that a child
can have is a big stick – it's the only thing they understand. Come to think of it, it's the only thing that adults understand. This move back toward normality has to start somewhere, so I feel it behoves me to point out to parents
how best they can implement this procedure.

The nursery is where the rot sets in and it is here that a few guidelines need to be observed. For instance, how many of you can recall those long nights cooped up in a packing case disguised as a house with a grizzling or, worse still, screaming
baby who will not be placated no matter what is done for it? Does that ring a bell, hmmnn? Well, one could give it a gentle tap except that the nurse down at the creche may want to know how the red finger marks got on the child – and that
can be very hard to explain away (you've been warned). So you have to resort to more subtle means. Randall recommended the good old Tolley's Brandy trick which is administered with an eye dropper down the cake-hole in between screams
– because we all know that the little rascals are too cunning to drink if it is mixed with their milk.

But I have come up with an invention that is truly ahead of its time. My patented, soundproof cubicle made out of perspex is a “must” for all new family nurseries. The good thing about this is that you can see the baby and the
baby can see you, but no sound can escape to annoy the rest of the household or the neighbours. The deluxe model would have a one-way intercom so that mother could talk to the baby. Another advantage of this marvellous piece of equipment over
a standard bassinet is that the family cat will not be able to get to the baby to lie on its face – thus preventing the child from being smothered. For those of you who are at your wit's end, there will be a model produced with a cat
flap incorporated.

I believe we should do away with holidays for school children – well, their life really is one big, long holiday. What do they ever do besides spend money and squander their time hanging around McDonalds or some Internet cafe, gaming?
Let us get them out doing something practical like digging ditches or weeding the gardens in public parks. They could be put to work cleaning up the multifarious deposits of litter that has accumulated through the years from their thoughtless
untidiness.

Left to their own devices they will prefer to ride their skateboards, roller-blades and BMX's until the wheels are worn down to the size of fifty-satang coins and the machine is discarded and useless. The parents will then be expected
to provide a replacement so that the child may continue a rampage of unbridled excess. Consideration should be given to the merits of using the children's energy to power small backyard alternators driven by treadmills – very appropriate,
in view of the carbon pollution in the atmosphere today. We should conserve base-load electricity (that's what it's called, I believe).

I have to complete this later as nurse Poontang wants me.

“Mr Somchai, here is your medication – Dr Goebbels will be along to see you in a moment.”

“Thank you nurse – ah, – here he is now.”

“Ah, there you are, Mr Somchai. There are a couple of questions that Dr Flannelwort and I would like to ask you – would you mind stepping into the office for a moment? Please, sit down.”

“Now, Mister Somchai, when did you first get this impression that you had a dislike for children?”

“Gawd, Doctor – that's hard to answer. I've never liked the rotten little buggers, I suppose. You know, there's just some things that you don't like and there doesn't seem to be any reason for it.”

“Well, quite frankly, Mr Somchai, Dr Flannelwort and I are curious to know why you would want to push the school bus over the edge of the cliff – thank goodness there were no children on board – can you tell us why you
would want to do that?”

“The devil made me do it!”

“I see – and does he often talk with you like that?”

“Oh, my goodness yes. We worked together very closely on my grand design for the shopping centre non-cages.”

“Yes – well, Mr Somchai, in view of what you have told us, Dr Flannelwort and I think it would be best if we chopped a little piece off your brain.”

“Will it hurt.”

“My goodness gracious, no. As a matter of fact you'll be much happier without it. We call it a full frontal lobotomy.”

“Well, Doctor – I must admit I would rather have a full bottle in front of me than a full frontal lobotomy. I'll have to discuss this with my assistant.”

“Nurse, while Mr Somchai considers his options, please go and get me a heavy-duty straight jacket, a couple of burly wardsmen and prepare theatre. Mr Somchai will be staying with us for a while.”

“Dr Flannelwort, do you have the number that Mr Somchai gave you – the Acme Welding Works? Thank you.”

“Nurse, please phone the Acme Welding Works and tell them Dr Flannelwort and I will be available tomorrow morning. Try and make the appointment for somewhere around 10 am.”

“Certainly, Dr Goebbels.”

Dr Goebbels reached across the table to shake hands.

“Flannelwort, we're going to make a fortune out of this.”

***

So, you can see what a sensitive matter this is and I don't wish to cause Somchai's family any embarrassment. For this reason, I cannot allow this to go beyond this room. Rodney would be quite embarrassed to know that I had even
seen this – so I won't mention this to him at all. That sounds like Rodney arriving now – he's probably just got back from Lopburi.

“Sawat-dee krup Chalermchai, I bought a few things back with me from Lopburi that should be a big hit down at the first emporium – this will really give the place some sparkle and liven things up. I have a dozen monkeys out
in the back of the pickup in two cages and they're very friendly – we could train them to wait on the patrons. Come and have a look at them.”