A Perfect Plonker
John is retired and living in Bangkok. He is what I consider the perfect plonker. He was always like that. Before we get in to his present lifestyle, here is a brief series of sweeping generalisations, ironic nonsense and hyperbole about his life before he retired.
John was a whingeneer. I work in offshore oil and gas and I can tell you a lot of whingeneers are some of the most boring people you are ever likely to meet with the added bonus of having the empathy and sense of humour on par with Mr. Spock from Star Trek.
John somehow managed to jag himself a glamour and he thrived on the fact that everyone was so envious of his funny, outgoing, sexy wife but all was not good.
Over the following years things changed, as they often do, and John being a plonker had no interest or desire to put the time and effort into his funny, outgoing, sexy wife and instead spent his time down the pub and fxxxing around with motorcycles in his garage. Like all relationships they take a lot of work but I really didn’t know what was wrong until this seemingly intelligent, well-educated, logical man showed his sexual maturity by describing his beautiful, funny, sexy wife’s womb and ovaries as “Mary’s baby making parts”.
Things slowly deteriorated. John no was no fool and knew divorce was looming on the horizon. Fortunately for John but sadly for Mary, John had what’s was known to most Aussies as a “cunning kick”. A lot of guys have a bit stashed away for a rainy day but John being the logical, clinical prick he was, started squirreling as much as he could in to an offshore account.
Mary never really got involved or cared too much about John’s bank account or home finances and why would she? She had given the best years of her life to this man and although things weren’t great right now, as she had just been through a terribly traumatic time in her life with the realisation she could never be able to bear children, she had always assumed with a little time and effort they would be able to work things through.
John though wily dog that he was knew it was only a matter of time and with that knowledge helped to propel things along to their inevitable conclusion. So he spent his days sneakily moving as much cash as he could offshore. That not being enough he also decided to really smash the bank balance by purchasing a new car and extravagantly redecorating the house. This becomes important later, as John, being the clinical, logical man he was had a plan for the car and newly decorated house that Mary was blissfully unaware of.
Now being a clinical, logical guy, John also knew that in Australia, Mary, after having spent the better part of her life with him would be entitled to 50% of the property and assets accrued over their many years together (excluding of course that offshore account he deliberately and purposefully hid from her). So John then went out and hired the most ruthless, mercenary lawyer in town which, not surprisingly, resulted in a toxic, venomous and emotionally taxing court battle mostly instigated by his drive to stick it to his now ex funny, outgoing, sexy wife.
So Mary got less than a quarter of what she was entitled and never got a sniff of their marital home or the sneaky offshore goldmine. To add insult to injury he even cried poor and went to the trouble of organising a re-mortgage he didn’t need to pay her off. Everything was coming together. Apparently he was so upset about screwing his wife out of her due and keeping the house, the car and the offshore bank account to himself John then decided that he hated western women and declared they were ALL “A dried up bunch of card-carrying feminists who wouldn’t know a good man if they saw one”. John being of course the honest and fair bloke that he was.
Now like most men that have trouble relating to women and haven’t had much pussy in their life and then go on to have a lengthy marriage and a bitter divorce I will tell you that ALL Australian women are pro-feminist almost to the point that men are losing interest in any sexual attraction no matter how pretty they are. (Sorry, I have to interject here. The preceding statement is a steaming pile of crap! Aussie women are hot, tough and loyal and IMO are some of the most sexually liberated women in the world and for the most part generally the women that do have issues picked them up not from some feminist manifesto but instead from the arseholes they had the great misfortune to be lumbered with, but this isn’t my story so let’s continue).
John was now, inexplicably, an angry, bitter old fart who just wanted to get out of Australia. Once one of the guys suggested Thailand was chock-a-block full of young, disadvantaged girls available for cheap sex, John feigned indifference but decided to take a look. After a week of pretty little Thai hookers, he was hooked.
Unlike most mongers but like most divorced, elderly retirees who find cheap, young available pussy late in life, John was totally c@nt-struck. So he sold up everything and moved to Soi Nana on a retirement visa. At this point John figured he had landed in heaven. He began to drink in as many bars as he could and became well-known in the bars as the embarrassing drunk who couldn’t hold his piss.
You see, unlike most Aussies, John was a lightweight which meant most of his days would leave him wandering Soi 4 in his Chang wifebeater and thongs, totally drunk. Luckily for John this was Nana so even though he was totally legless, a few thousand baht would always ensure he could stumble back to his condo with a hooker. Amazing Thailand. This continued for quite a while and though I could bore you with many of his escapades, instead it will suffice to say that this Muppet continued to wander blind drunk around this world-famous red-light district at all hours which led him to getting rolled which led him to the false assumption that somehow ALL of Bangkok was not safe as he thought it was, never considering that his ridiculous behaviour made him an easy target.
He now, driven by fear, started to take home girls earlier in the day which led to the realisation that a lot of girls on the day shift aren’t always that pretty and the ones that are generally have some drug, emotional, mental or family problem that disqualifies them from the night shift. The only downside now was before when he used to stumble in at all hours, the concierge on duty, although embarrassed for this pathetic farang, had too much pride to even acknowledge this drunkard and his never-ending cavalcade of prostitutes. The problem with coming in early was that he actually had to interact with real women who had no connection to the industry and try as they might, they couldn’t hide their distaste and disgust at this farang’s obvious lack of discretion. (Which I guess means those girls were also “A dried a bunch of card-carrying feminists blah blah blah bullshit bullshit bullshit”)
But John couldn’t give a rat’s – it was his apartment, his life and who cares what the people in his adopted country really thought of him?! Then one afternoon as usual John was on the piss and had belted in a gut-full when at 5 PM it started to rain. He thought no problem, I will just punch a couple more in and wait for it to stop.
Now anyone who knows anything about Thailand knows how unpredictable the whether can be. Sometimes it threatens for days and you never see a drop. Sometimes when it comes it rains for 20 minutes and sometimes when it comes it rains for hours. So this apparently intelligent, logical, well-educated man instead of doing something any reasonable, rational human would do like grab an umbrella, or an uber, or a taxi or even a lowly tuktuk thought, “Fxxk it” I will just keep tipping in the piss and walk home anyway. Long story short, muggins comes a cropper. A woman saw him but decided after seeing him she wouldn’t come within cooee of this drunken abomination. John didn’t say it but I reckon it wasn’t that he was drunk but just that she was another of those dried up feminazi bitches that wouldn’t know a good man when they saw one that he had left Australia to get away from.
He knew his life was circling the drain if he stayed with booze and bargirls (the beautiful irony of this becomes apparent a little later so bare with me). After that incident, as you would think, he wanted to turn his life around and being Mr. Logic he decided to study the issue. Identify the problems and solve them. So he got himself a nicer apartment, started dragging his sorry arse around the park for an hour a day and even got himself a job. He actually wasn’t bad at it but then realised that being on a retirement visa, working in Thailand without a work permit and failing to declare your income or pay any tax was not compatible, definitely illegal, and could possibly get him deported so he went back to what he knew best and started stashing his money offshore.
So now his life is better. His day is completely unremarkable. He gets up and has a cuppa then goes to work. Has breakfast then back to work (so unusual). At 12 or 1 (shock horror) he will declare he will have lunch, throws on some clobber and heads to a restaurant. Unbelievably he fascinates me with his unique ability to eat rice using only 2 sticks (I thought people had only been proficient with them for @ 9000 years but John never ceases to amaze). He then suddenly stops, puts down these strange sticks and pulls out a small notebook, not sure if this is early onset dementia, he has a bad memory or perhaps he just likes taking notes…
Later that afternoon and totally contradicting his pledge to stay away from booze and bargirls, he emerges ready for an evening at Soi Cowboy. Being a complete tool he then rocks out in a cheap tailored suit that you can pick up at any of the thousands of tailors in and around Bangkok. Completely oblivious to the fact that a bargirl would go with a blind leper in a wheelchair if he had a few thousand baht, this deluded twit thinks wearing a suit makes him more attractive to prostitutes.
To watch all six feet of John, resplendent in his tailored suit, collar and tie, stroll in to Soi Cowboy is like something out of a movie, a really, really bad movie. So John, who thinks he is the bees knees, wanders down Soi Cowboy chatting to all the hookers he swore away from. Ironically, not only does he think he is the bees knees, he has a girl named Bee who like everyone else goes with him not because of the tailored suit but because of the handful of baht he gives her (funny that, eh?). Disturbingly, John likes girls that are tiny and look like they should be in primary school which speaks volumes and more disturbingly he gives me a wink and tells me he knows she looks underage. So John, no longer willing to deal with the shame of taking girls back to where he lives, trots off in his lovely suit to the nearest short time hotel.
When I left John and returned to sunny Australia, I realised I didn’t envy John at all and had no intention of emulating him. Any man who would praise the virtues of Thai prostitutes while simultaneously being so spiteful to virtually every other woman is no man at all. Any man who states he needs to get away from the bargirls and the piss and doesn’t even have the guts to follow through also ain’t much of a man. No wonder he ran from Oz with his tail between his legs. John will end up being yet another old man with no meaningful relationships who bases his worth on the time he spends in Soi Cowboy getting hollow accolades from prostitutes. John will die alone and lonely in Bangkok. All the money and nice apartments in the world will never make him happy. Don’t be like John. In my opinion, John is a total plonker.
The author of this article cannot be contacted.