There are some second rate, no, tenth-rate minds, employed in Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service. I make this gross generalization because I had the misfortune to mix with some of these philistines and numbskulls from 2003-2012.
Freeze! UN Spouse! Keep your hands where I can see 'em, on the beer bottle, chester. That's right, moron. My juju is stronger than your JUSMAGTHAI social club membership card. Fuzz wave me on. You win a watermelon cavity search in Bombat nick. So don't mess. I outrank you. I am top of the food chain, you scum sucking, bottom feeding, Chang drinking, kiddie fiddling, sex offender you!
This here I.D. is my do-what-the-fuck-I-want-get-out-of-jail-free-card. Not a laminate from Khao San Road. It's official. Bona fucking fide. Same same no different to the brass balls I got dangling right between my legs.
When a man about town becomes a male trailing spouse, he ceases to be about town forevermore. In my case, the town was London and the post was Bangkok, a city with a well worn rep for human intrigue and self gratification.
Clean-ing, iron-ing, cook-ing. No, not three cities in China -- just three things that a mae baan does well. A mae baan is a maid, a Thai maid, quite literally a "mother of the house". And for 8 years, 10 months, 3 weeks and 6 days in Bangkok, Thailand, I had a mae baan (and a bloody good one at that).
Foreigners are used to Brits behaving badly overseas. We parade our nationality, and regional identity, in gaudy football shirts; get loud when drunk, cause scenes and pick fights with total strangers. Our name is Legion and we are many -- lager louts, football hooligans, the barmy army and feral youth. That's us Brits in the corner, a bunch of turds who shouldn't be flushed out the country!
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| Diplomatic Impunity |
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