Arthur is feeling a little unsettled. The day had started
well but the email from Simon has changed everything. Simon coming to Bangkok?
To make a BBC documentary? And he wants Arthur to conduct tours of the naughty
nightlife? Hmmm. A minor disruption you might think but it has disturbed
Arthur’s equilibrium.
He decides to skip a second beer and get something to eat. Took Lae Dee (Cheap and Good), a popular eating establishment on Soi 5, will do nicely. He can think about Simon over breakfast.
With that in mind Arthur ensconces himself on a chair at the Took Lae Dee. Not too crowded. Good. To his right a bright-robed West African entrepreneur, to his left a massive, lavishly tattooed, rather intimidating, bicep.
‘OK dude?’ it is the owner of the bicep speaking. American accent. Stephen Leather waistcoat over sleeveless plaid shirt. Body-builder type. ‘Got enough elbow room?’
‘Fine thank you.’ says Arthur as he surveys the menu. The specials look interesting, Bavarian meatloaf, Dixie sausages, Waiting for Godot Sandwich.
Arthur plays it safe and orders the American Breakfast. Then he quickly changes his mind, much to the irritation of the lady taking the order, who, used to the ways of falang, shows no irritation, and decides on the Dixie Sausages. So much for that. The decision has been made. Now it’s just a question of waiting.
Across the counter a Thai woman is squeezing oranges. She cuts them in half then presses them. Arthur becomes absorbed in the rhythmic movements of her hands. What bizarre instruments hands are, thinks Arthur, such versatility is only found in Nabokovian passages which some find pretentious and difficult to read.
‘Buddy of mine,’ says the colourful arm, ‘he’s a contractor in Eye-rak, killing sand-niggers, told me about this place.’
Let me guess thinks Arthur, you’re a Navy SEAL.
‘I’m a Navy SEAL.’
‘Really?’
Arthur doesn’t feel much like dialoguing today. Actually he feels like that most days. It interferes with his thinking. He has enough Houellebecq type information to deal with already. He knows people are just being friendly. He wishes they would be friendly somewhere else. Especially during the breakfast ritual. Tell the truth he feels almost detached from his physical self today. Amorphous almost. And he’s trying to remember something Anthony Burgess said about death.
‘Only problem with this place is they cram the customers in.’ says the arm again.
Arthur agrees. That is the only thing about Took Lae Dee he doesn’t like. The proximity of fellow diners. But there isn’t a lot he can do about it.
‘It’s clean though.’ says Arthur.
‘You can say that again.’ says the American.
Arthur certainly can. That is his prerogative. But he decides not to. It’s OK for Amis and Son to do the snotty limey thing but Arthur doesn’t want to risk it. Everybody is so touchy these days. Taking the piss can quickly backfire. Plus his Dixie Sausages have just arrived and he wants to give them his undivided attention.
‘Looks good,’ says the Yank, ‘my girlfriend here,’ Arthur gets a glimpse of cleavage and a little wave from a rather tasty looking tart to Hulk Hogan’s left. ‘dumb bitch, wanted to eat at one of them street places. No way would I take a chance with that crap.’
‘Very wise,’ says Arthur, ‘one needs to be circumspect these days.’
‘I got her in a place in Soi Cowboy. Mamasan’s a friend of mine.’
‘Good for you.’ says Arthur.
‘You English? Thought so.You gotta be careful right? Thailand is getting to be a dangerous place. Check out the websites dude. Some of those street hookers! Jeez I was walking around Sukhumvit last night. It’s a zoo.’
‘It certainly is.’ Arthur agrees. He should know. He’s one of the animals.
I should write all this down, thinks Arthur, maybe make a short story out of it. Arthur does write things down occasionally. He has aspirations. One day, perhaps, when he gets it all sorted out, he will take it down to Asia Books. Who knows? With any luck he might even get accepted into the Bangkok School of Fiction! But first he needs a piece of paper and all he’s got is a damp napkin. So much for that project.
‘They’ll kill you for a few thousand baht.’
How many times has Arthur heard that lately? He’s lived in Thailand a long time. Heard plenty of horror stories. Is Thailand getting more violent in recent years? Hard to say. There isn’t a lot he can do about it in any case. He wonders how long it will be before the conversation turns, as it inevitably does in Bangkok, to sex. Just as he is starting on his second Dixie Sausage most likely. But no. His breakfast companion is busy with his own ante-meridianal ruminations. He has just asked for, and received, with a smile, a second cup of coffee. Now he’s shaking out some pills. Steroids time.
‘Gotta love Thailand,’ he says, ‘in the US these days you gotta speak Spanish to get a goddam refill.’
Ah got it! The Anthony Burgess quotation about death has surfaced. Here it is: “It’s a good idea to think about death while you are still alive.” So that’s what Arthur decides to do. The sausages are very tasty. He’s enjoying them and thinking about death. He doesn’t see any contradiction in this. It’s the ultimate joke in a way. Sixty years, if you’re lucky, thinking your little life is important then it’s game-over. Or is it? Life is strange thinks Arthur. You just start to get the hang of it then your time’s up. So what’s wrong with joking about it? Rough, tough SAS men joke about it…why shouldn’t the rest of us?
The American is paying his bill and his girlfriend is getting up. They are on the move. Arthur wriggles his seat a bit to give them more exit room. The girl gives Arthur a flash of white teeth and a little golden wave. The American nods goodbye.
And off they go. Arthur is thinking if this story is going to get anywhere it will need a Le Carre twist. ‘Take care.’ Says Arthur.
‘Don’t worry dude. Nobody fucks with me.’ Then the American does a strange thing. He takes Arthur’s hand and guides it to a bulge in his belt. There, through the shirt, Arthur feels something hard and metallic.
‘Heckler & Koch MP5K ‘kurtz’ version?’ asks Arthur who has read a few Lee Childs novels, ‘designed in the 1970s, 9mm x19, short post front sight? Highly accurate in the right hands?’
‘You bet. That’s my big kahuna. One needs to be very circumspect indeed these days…dude.’
He decides to skip a second beer and get something to eat. Took Lae Dee (Cheap and Good), a popular eating establishment on Soi 5, will do nicely. He can think about Simon over breakfast.
With that in mind Arthur ensconces himself on a chair at the Took Lae Dee. Not too crowded. Good. To his right a bright-robed West African entrepreneur, to his left a massive, lavishly tattooed, rather intimidating, bicep.
‘OK dude?’ it is the owner of the bicep speaking. American accent. Stephen Leather waistcoat over sleeveless plaid shirt. Body-builder type. ‘Got enough elbow room?’
‘Fine thank you.’ says Arthur as he surveys the menu. The specials look interesting, Bavarian meatloaf, Dixie sausages, Waiting for Godot Sandwich.
Arthur plays it safe and orders the American Breakfast. Then he quickly changes his mind, much to the irritation of the lady taking the order, who, used to the ways of falang, shows no irritation, and decides on the Dixie Sausages. So much for that. The decision has been made. Now it’s just a question of waiting.
Across the counter a Thai woman is squeezing oranges. She cuts them in half then presses them. Arthur becomes absorbed in the rhythmic movements of her hands. What bizarre instruments hands are, thinks Arthur, such versatility is only found in Nabokovian passages which some find pretentious and difficult to read.
‘Buddy of mine,’ says the colourful arm, ‘he’s a contractor in Eye-rak, killing sand-niggers, told me about this place.’
Let me guess thinks Arthur, you’re a Navy SEAL.
‘I’m a Navy SEAL.’
‘Really?’
Arthur doesn’t feel much like dialoguing today. Actually he feels like that most days. It interferes with his thinking. He has enough Houellebecq type information to deal with already. He knows people are just being friendly. He wishes they would be friendly somewhere else. Especially during the breakfast ritual. Tell the truth he feels almost detached from his physical self today. Amorphous almost. And he’s trying to remember something Anthony Burgess said about death.
‘Only problem with this place is they cram the customers in.’ says the arm again.
Arthur agrees. That is the only thing about Took Lae Dee he doesn’t like. The proximity of fellow diners. But there isn’t a lot he can do about it.
‘It’s clean though.’ says Arthur.
‘You can say that again.’ says the American.
Arthur certainly can. That is his prerogative. But he decides not to. It’s OK for Amis and Son to do the snotty limey thing but Arthur doesn’t want to risk it. Everybody is so touchy these days. Taking the piss can quickly backfire. Plus his Dixie Sausages have just arrived and he wants to give them his undivided attention.
‘Looks good,’ says the Yank, ‘my girlfriend here,’ Arthur gets a glimpse of cleavage and a little wave from a rather tasty looking tart to Hulk Hogan’s left. ‘dumb bitch, wanted to eat at one of them street places. No way would I take a chance with that crap.’
‘Very wise,’ says Arthur, ‘one needs to be circumspect these days.’
‘I got her in a place in Soi Cowboy. Mamasan’s a friend of mine.’
‘Good for you.’ says Arthur.
‘You English? Thought so.You gotta be careful right? Thailand is getting to be a dangerous place. Check out the websites dude. Some of those street hookers! Jeez I was walking around Sukhumvit last night. It’s a zoo.’
‘It certainly is.’ Arthur agrees. He should know. He’s one of the animals.
I should write all this down, thinks Arthur, maybe make a short story out of it. Arthur does write things down occasionally. He has aspirations. One day, perhaps, when he gets it all sorted out, he will take it down to Asia Books. Who knows? With any luck he might even get accepted into the Bangkok School of Fiction! But first he needs a piece of paper and all he’s got is a damp napkin. So much for that project.
‘They’ll kill you for a few thousand baht.’
How many times has Arthur heard that lately? He’s lived in Thailand a long time. Heard plenty of horror stories. Is Thailand getting more violent in recent years? Hard to say. There isn’t a lot he can do about it in any case. He wonders how long it will be before the conversation turns, as it inevitably does in Bangkok, to sex. Just as he is starting on his second Dixie Sausage most likely. But no. His breakfast companion is busy with his own ante-meridianal ruminations. He has just asked for, and received, with a smile, a second cup of coffee. Now he’s shaking out some pills. Steroids time.
‘Gotta love Thailand,’ he says, ‘in the US these days you gotta speak Spanish to get a goddam refill.’
Ah got it! The Anthony Burgess quotation about death has surfaced. Here it is: “It’s a good idea to think about death while you are still alive.” So that’s what Arthur decides to do. The sausages are very tasty. He’s enjoying them and thinking about death. He doesn’t see any contradiction in this. It’s the ultimate joke in a way. Sixty years, if you’re lucky, thinking your little life is important then it’s game-over. Or is it? Life is strange thinks Arthur. You just start to get the hang of it then your time’s up. So what’s wrong with joking about it? Rough, tough SAS men joke about it…why shouldn’t the rest of us?
The American is paying his bill and his girlfriend is getting up. They are on the move. Arthur wriggles his seat a bit to give them more exit room. The girl gives Arthur a flash of white teeth and a little golden wave. The American nods goodbye.
And off they go. Arthur is thinking if this story is going to get anywhere it will need a Le Carre twist. ‘Take care.’ Says Arthur.
‘Don’t worry dude. Nobody fucks with me.’ Then the American does a strange thing. He takes Arthur’s hand and guides it to a bulge in his belt. There, through the shirt, Arthur feels something hard and metallic.
‘Heckler & Koch MP5K ‘kurtz’ version?’ asks Arthur who has read a few Lee Childs novels, ‘designed in the 1970s, 9mm x19, short post front sight? Highly accurate in the right hands?’
‘You bet. That’s my big kahuna. One needs to be very circumspect indeed these days…dude.’
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