Hi there Ms. Connie

Thank you for paying me the compliment of publishing my letter and giving such a witty reply as usual. I must apologize but I am not German. Sorry! I must reword that. I am not German, but was actually born in what was Rhodesia 100 years ago, so suppose I am an ex-colonial which is possibly even worse, and being an ex chef the mention of cooking crème burlee in the microwave was an exquisitely insulting remark. Who’s been talking?

Please tell me where I can find a handsome young Thai Guy who will only ask 200 Baht. I would willingly fluff up his pillow and anything else he wanted fluffed up for that pittance! I suppose being a lovely lady entitles you to look at the world through rose tinted glasses, and probably the young men should be paying you, but spare a thought for us ugly old overweight retired misfits who would be shunned in any normal society but who seem to be tolerated, more or less, in wonderful Thailand. The publisher has informed me the next Sticky Rice comes out in the middle of December. I will wait with bated breath, along with many of my acquaintances, for your next masterpiece. You are not, by any chance, the lovely lady with the big hats and intriguing attire who sits at the Rainbow concession on Dongtan beach?

Best wishes

RW

Dearest RW,

You’re too kind regarding my wit and wisdom. Perhaps ‘tis the season when so many of Ms. Connie’s readers send her tiny gifts of dried herbs and unguents from Tibet. All her correspondents are unusually taciturn and complimentary these days which put Ms. Connie on edge. Lately Ms.Connie has been prone to bouts of hysteria and profound melancholia because being the cantankerous old bitch she is, she naturally suspects that everyone in lala gayland is out to get her, just waiting for the wind to blow in the wrong direction and lift her skirts to reveal her ruffled ridges. Like all those motorcycle touts at the end of the soi, who sit waiting day after day, for Ms. Connie to lose her cool. They are the ones Ms. Connie has been referring to, who find the extra tip of 200 baht, a welcome addition to the fee for allowing Ms. Connie to ride them side saddle. That’s where you must look RW for the 200 bahters. At the end of your soi. But watch how you broach the subject.

And now of course it’s the season of folly, when inflation hits the brass pole cats. Ms. Connie must admonish you RW, that things have turned ugly lately especially with the influx of the overseas crowd. As usual we who live here and keep the economy purring during the rainy season, have to endure that temporary lurch in the economy when the interlopers arrive flush with cash and bereft of time to bargain. So my advice to you is to travel to the countryside and hang out around town squares at midnight, practicing your Thai skills. Darkness in December makes all of us look fabulous. Have one of your friends teach you how to invite a young country lad to teach you how to use your tongue and manipulate the tones. Once you have the correct phrasing perfected suggest to the first young man who approaches your web of desire that you are willing to pay 200 baht for an hour of instruction. Ms. Connie is sure you will learn some interesting dialectical flourishes and gain valuable tips on how to ride a water buffalo. Another thing. There is absolutely no gratitude out there. Some of the boys in Pattaya have become vengeful lately just because Ms. Connie refuses to bow to this seasonal feast and alter her price regimen. Ms. Connie demands loyalty and refuses absolutely to tip them more than her usual fee, for the extra services they perform at the end of their shift and her ride home. She has tried to convey that age-old message, a bird in the hand is worth two down the soi, and she naturally feels that after a hard day straddling a smoking Honda, a young man should feel honoured to be relieved of all that tension that has built up during a day dodging death. Ms. Connie’s lip gloss has left its indelible mark on some of the most succulent blue-veined custard chuckers in South Pattaya and that’s no idle boast. So they should stay loyal, right? But this time of year, it’s better to just beat a hasty retreat, or beat off, and wait till the hordes from the pallid North have returned to their fireplaces in late February.

Last week, ignoring her own advice, Ms. Connie suffering a midnight attack of hornyitis, ventured forth in spite of her misgivings, to try her luck in the more secluded retreats which only she is fool enough to patronise. Wouldn’t you know it, RW, but Ms. Connie had a sudden attack of the runs just as she was heading down into Boystown. There’s nothing like smelly knickers to tear a classy broad’s reputation to shreds, especially when the nasty crowd that had assembled on the tables in front of establishments Ms. Connie will not mention, noticed her mortified look as she quickly exited on her Cha Cha heels, to the end of the soi for a hasty retreat. Some of the boys on bikes were prone to guffaw in unison and call her names. They did not of course realise how close they were to seeing Ms. Connie spoil one of the most elegant outfits she has assembled since her days on the runways of Milan. Fortunately, Ms. Connie knows all the nooks and crannies one needs in such emergencies in that vicinity and was able to duck into a darkened vestibule between two dumpsters to relieve herself.

The reason I mention this ugly incident RW is because you seem to have an idea of Ms. Connie which has elevated her above the general dung-heap of humanity. Ms. Connie generally is praised beyond measure and has trouble containing her ego as a result. But whatever ones virtues, one should never forget the disaster that potentially lurks around all our corners, never mind whether we are old, fat or ugly or radiant and gorgeous like Ms. Connie. Sometimes Ms. Connie does think the young men she tutors in the techniques she has perfected from the Kama Sutra and the Vagina Monologues, should pay her. But Ms. Connie is also extremely rich, so why not help her young swains when they perform according to her demanding expectations. In response to your last question whether Ms. Connie is the lady in the big hats who sits in front of the Rainbow Concession at Dongtan Beach, Ms. Connie must demur. Also she remains unaware of the location of “Dongtan Beach”. Are you referring to Tanned Dong Beach, which Ms. Connie is very familiar with. Anyway, Ms. Connie always wears hats that are appropriate for the occasion. And the weather for that matter. But she does not want to blow her cover. You must be content RW and not encourage Ms. Connie to come out into the full glare of fanfare and publicity. Her secret is her mystery is her mystique. She may be standing behind you one afternoon as you fondle the rounded derriere of that little queen selling jack fruit on Jomtien. All you will notice will be a brief whiff of Eau de Carcassonne. Or just when you think you are in deep nostalgia over the tobacco farm in Rhodesia being pillaged by Robert Mugabe and his ample mistress, lo and behold you may overhear someone who sounds distinctly like Ian Smith regaling a money boy with his comparison of the lad to a Rhodesian Ridgeback as his fingers trace the contours of his backbone. Ms. Connie is there for you RW. She is everywhere. For you and all her cherished readers in Sticky Rice. Like Rose on the bow of the Titanic, she just goes on and on and on. And on that note, Ms. Connie wishes you, all your friends and her beloved readers of Sticky Rice a Happy New Year and many joyous tricks in two thousand and six.