It’s not for everyone, despite what some may think: The following story was related to me by my neighbour. It concerns a relatively young Thai lady from my mate’s wife’s village, or at least a nearby collection of similar dwellings. The woman is somehow related to my friend’s wife. You know, the usual first cousin twice removed by way of birth, death, or marriage.

After some years of putting up with the local male constituency, this lady decided she would like to make some real money and snare a foreigner, just like her relative had managed to do.

So, packing all her worldly goods into a cardboard box, she took a bus to Pattaya and was picked up and taken to spend the night in my mate’s place. He gave her the seal of physical approval: so she obviously still has her own teeth, clear eyes, and can walk in a straight line, most of the time. Not surprisingly she couldn’t speak a word of English.

The next night the tribe went to a beer bar near Soi 7. Why this bar? Well, my mate’s wife knew the mamasan, or she had a friend who was working in the joint, or the feng shui was right. Doesn’t really matter, they’ve got to kick off somewhere and the girls usually try and find someone they know or at least attempt to start in a bar with girls from the same province.

The bar is about as busy as a morgue, and the bars nearby are also gasping for customers. So, the fresh young face sits and stares into space and is probably wondering how these bars can possibly remain financially viable.

The next day, a room is found for her, she is sent to a beauty salon, and a few new threads are purchased so she can get in touch with her ‘sexy’ side.

She is meant to be in the bar by 5:00pm that day but doesn’t show up. Naturally, the mamasan calls my mate’s wife, but no one has seen the girl. She simply disappeared.

My mate said the Thai boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, called up the lady’s mother to berate her for sending her daughter to the fleshpots of Pattaya. The mother isn’t real happy either, because she was contemplating the financial windfall her daughter would soon be supplying, courtesy of besotted foreign men. She already had her own heart set on purchasing a couple of extra buffalos.

As my mate stated, “She just wasn’t cut out for the task.” Come to the bright lights of Pattaya, sit and make inane conversation with foreign men, get to have sex with those you fancy (if any), and all the while be paid for doing it. Be (almost) your own boss. Work nights, party ‘til dawn, sleep all day.

Sounds almost like a glamour occupation, but it still takes a certain type of personality to be able to jump into the deep end with both feet first and eyes wide shut. Obviously, this young lady wasn’t quite cut from the right mold.

Confessions of a double sinner: Pattaya vs Angeles: Tim Carter (a pseudonym used to protect his real identity; from his wife) has written the first account comparing the premier league of Southeast Asian pay-for-play destinations Pattaya and Angeles City.

Entitled Pattaya Angeles, Sister Cities in Sin, the illustrated e-magazine runs to 11 pages. Carter writes about the relative size of the night entertainment scene in Angeles compared to Pattaya, both in terms of sheer numbers of ladies of dubious virtue working in both places and the number of places where a visitor can imbibe a few alcoholic beverages while ogling the ladies present.

Hardly surprising that Pattaya wins hands down in both those categories.

Of course, it’s not necessarily sheer numbers that makes a place better than a rival.

Carter points out the Filipina girls speak far better English than their Thai cousins. This means for many punters they can lose their money and at least be fully conversant with just why it has disappeared into a black hole.

As for fun, Carter claims the Filipina’s are less mercenary than their Thai opponents, although I wonder whether their English language skills merely help mask the true nature of the beast.

Gunts, a wonderful word I’d never heard before, appears in these pages. It apparently describes an Angeles dancing girl of older age and substantial girth. Carter claims they were a common sight some years ago, but as Angeles has attracted younger and fitter ladies of the demimonde, they have all but disappeared.

There’s a photo of Angeles’ attempt to follow the Pattaya paradigm: Walking Street. Sadly, the sign looks precisely like the monstrosity which straddles the entrance to Pattaya’s Walking Street. Both have all the architectural allure of a serrated cardboard box designed by a dyslexic 10-year-old in his first year in the woodwork and metal class.

Carter gives a few hints on what to avoid in the drinking scam stakes in both Pattaya and Angeles.

And his overall verdict? To give that away I would be spoiling the ‘happy’ ending. If you’re interested, you can find the magazine by going on the Internet and following this link: