Rule #35: DON’T BRING COAL TO NEWCASTLE
Note: Rule numbers refer to the book version of these rules, which will be available on Amazon soon.
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This rule is based on an old British saying, so I should begin by explaining it. “Coal” is that black stuff that used to power everything. When I was a boy, one of my chores was to get up first and light the fire, which was the only heating in the house. It powered the railways, before they were dieselised and British industry before it was globalised. “Newcastle” is a city in the north of England famous for Newcastle Brown Ale, canny lasses, the Geordie accent and, formerly, coal. At the industry’s peak there were 20-25 collieries operating in and around Newcastle – so, if you went there, the last thing you would want to bring was coal. How does this very outdated and very British saying apply to Thailand or the Philippines? This little story will tell you:
Jeff has heard of the delights of Thailand but is married and on a tight rein, so he suggests to his wife that they take a holiday there – well, at least he’ll be able to look! They do the usual tourist things: The Grand Palace, Wat Pho, Jim Thompson’s House, then Jeff, in an off-hand a way as he can manage, suggests they take a look at Soi Cowboy.
Jane thinks it is some sort of costume show, like a ladyboy show, where all the performers dress up as cowboys, and as they turn the corner into the soi, the live music bar, Country Road, seems to confirm this.
Then she sees the girls:
“Oh, look! It’s horrible! That girl is practically naked and out in the street as well!”
Jeff goggles, but tries to hide it.
“Look at those shoes! They’re like stilts! It’s a wonder she can stand up!”
She’d not be standing up long if I had my way, thinks Jeff.
“They’re all covered in tattoos!”
Which shows that they’re wild and willing, thinks Jeff.
Then it dawns on her: “They’re – I can’t say the word; it’s too horrible!”
Jeff knows what she was about to say and corrects her: “They’re bargirls. It’s not the same.”
Jane glares at him. “What do you know about it?”
Jeff parries the accusation with the words, “Oh, I saw a documentary.”
Jane stops in her tracks as she sees a sight that is even more shocking.
“Look at that old granddad with that little girl! She’s young enough to be his daughter…” then gasping with horror, adds – or his granddaughter!”
“No, Thai ladies have smaller bodies than western women.”
She certainly has a smaller body than Jane who has been piling on the pounds ever since they got married.
At this point, the gentleman and his lady pass them, and Jane hisses, “Disgusting!”
“Shhh!” says Jeff. “It’s none of our business.”
“But she’s underage!”
“She’s probably in her mid twenties,” said Jeff.
“But it’s still disgusting.”
Jeff says nothing.
“Isn’t it?” Jane urges.
Jeff has no choice but to agree with her.
They are now well along the soi and Jeff spots a bar called Baccara, which has been recommended to him by one of his mates at the Old Bull and Bush.
“Let’s take a look inside,” he suggests.
“Is it a casino?” asks Jane.
“Don’t know. Maybe,” says Jeff, though he knows it isn’t.
As soon as they go through the curtain Jane sees the bikini clad bargirls on stage. She is horrified and turns round to go out. She has not looked up yet.
“Just stay for one drink,” pleads Jeff. “Come on, it’s Thailand. It’s one of the sights.”
Reluctantly, she agrees.
“I’d heard about gogo bars,” she says, “But I didn’t think it could be this bad.”
She has not looked up yet.
“All those poor, trafficked girls!”
“Yes,” said Jeff, thinking it best to agree with her.
“Full of HIV and AIDS, and God knows what else.”
“Buddha, not God.”
“What?”
“These girls are Buddhist.”
“There, you see! Not even Christian. What could be worse?”
She has not looked up yet.
Jeff has sneaked a few glances, but, just then, the blouses come off and his enraptured gaze is drawn as if by a magnet. Jane follows his gaze – sees the unpantied pussies and the perspective of underboob and goes hysterical.
“Hanging it all out! – and only schoolgirls! – and all those Japanese men looking up their skirts!”
Some of those Japanese men give Jeff pitying looks and the bargirls continue shuffling with that thousand-yard stare with which they ignore anyone who is not a prospect.
Jeff sighs, realising that he is in the Thailand version of Newcastle and he has brought a coal, his wife, to a place where there are heaps of coal, and it’s all anthracite – coal of the finest quality. It’s hot stuff and it’s making his loins burn just looking at it!
Later, Jeff wonders how he can put one of those hot coals in his fireplace (his bed. Not the one where Jane is. A short time hotel will have to do).
“I’m just going down the Sukhumvit to get us a takeaway,” he says.
But Jane knows his game. “I’ll come with you,” she says.
Next day he suggests, “Why don’t you go and get your hair done?”
He knows that this is a process which will take at least two hours – enough for short time with one of those hotties.
“I wouldn’t trust my hair to a Thai,” she says.
The nightlife goes on well after midnight, so, that night, when Jane has fallen asleep, he creeps to the door and tries to open it quietly. He is stopped in his tracks by the challenge, “Where are you going at this time of night?”
Jeff’s heart sinks and he mumbles an excuse, “Oh, just to the lobby to get… a clean towel.”
“You can call reception from here,” she says.
He gives up, but starts to make plans for a “business trip” so that he can come to Newcastle again without the burnt-out coal that his wife has become.
You see them all the time. Even the young guys with the hot, young blondes look as though they wish she’d jump in the nearest klong and leave him to it. Those who are wiser, who didn’t bring a coal, look at them with barely suppressed smiles, thanking God that, whatever their problems, they didn’t make that mistake. So, unless you want to be one of those pathetic, pussy-whipped losers, don’t do it; DON’T BRING COAL TO NEWCASTLE. Take your wife or girlfriend to Paris, Barcelona or the Florida Keys. She’ll enjoy it, and you’ll enjoy it too, because you won’t be surrounded by temptations that you can’t give in to!
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It’s done! 48 Rules for Gogo Bars is finished apart from the boring bit – proofreading! It will be published soon. In the meantime, please take a look at some of my other books which are available here or here.
The author of this article can be contacted at : rumblejungle2019@gmail.com
