Y’know how much I hate frogs? How I want to obliterate every last one of those loud-mouthed, insomnia-inducing, amphibian fucknuggets from the face the earth? It’s nothing compared to how I feel about mosquitoes. For the first week here I was feeling pretty smug, having remained more or less bite-free despite wandering around camp all blasé in my shorts and bugger all else.
Not any more. Bitten. Tae. Fuck. Not just little red blotches either, I swear these things have evolved actual jaws rather than the piercing proboscis of old. I’ve had chunks taken out of me by the fuckers and every morning I expect to wake up missing a limb a la the old Monty Python sketch. Some of the bloodthirsty bastards must have inveigled their way into my room last night and spent a good five or six hours feasting on my dozing flesh.
Motherfuckers. They must die. Nay, they SHALL die. Where’s Mr Miyagi with his chopsticks when you need him?
On a brighter note I just had my first experience of Thai healthcare and it’s pretty damn swish. Since a few days after arriving I’ve had a bit of a blocked ear, nothing too serious but last night I woke up unable to hear a peep through it for short time it so this morning I hopped into a cab to the local hospital.
For starters the place was gleaming and the staff were friendly as all hell, taking my details and vital stats (my blood pressure fucking rocks these days by the way) before guiding me through the place to the EENT department. I must have been waiting there a whopping ten minutes before the doctor saw me, had a probe around inside the lugs, sucked out the offending nasty gunk (less pleasant than it sounds) and sent me on my merry, satisfied and aurally intact way. Obviously I had to pay for all this but it was such a pittance that I can’t even claim it on my insurance. Time from leaving the hostel until my return, incorporating two twenty-minute cab rides? Ninety minutes.
Suck it NHS.
Last thing, I finally decided to buy a proper pair of Muay Thai shorts so I can really look the part. They let you add your own wee snippets of texts so I couldn’t resist a little customisation, Cannonball-style. For starters I had to get Kiltreiser in there, it’s going to be standing proudly just under the waistband on the back of the shorts. I also wanted to get something on the bottoms of the legs, maybe a wee slogan or something, and trying to think of something was the main reason it took me so long to buy them.
Last night I was listening to Woody Guthrie, American folk music hero, champion of the common people (cf. This Land Is Our Land) and enemy of bigots and Nazis everywhere. I always loved his guitar, into which he’d carved the magnificent slogan “This machine kills fascists”. One of my main peeves about Muay Thai in the UK is that it does have a bit of a right-wing, neo-Nazi following, albeit an exceedingly small one. So, as of Tuesday, I’ll be the proud owner of a bear of shorts proclaiming “These fists kill fascists”. I’m also heading back to the market in Bangkok to pick up an iron-on anti-Nazi patch from the utterly bizarre and incongruous Communist memorabilia stand.
I think Woody would approve.