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Budget Bobby: Posted In Pattaya



Posted In Pattaya

While out and about lately, I find some people keep attaching “FU” to my name. I’m told they think I’m “Fiscally Unsuited” to Bangkok and I should head on down to Pattaya. Touched by their concern, I decided to do just that.

sexpat express

It had been a while since I’d been on the Sexpat Express, AKA the Rung Ruang air-conditioned coach, to Sin City, and I was delighted upon arriving at Ekamai bus station to see the fare had dropped to 115 baht. That’s nine baht cheaper than when I went there a year or so ago! Eighteen baht roundtrip. Good deal: The savings paid for two bottles of water.

Now there are more than a few “budget” hotel options in Pattaya, and trust me, I’ve tried them all. For under 750 baht a night I could stay in one of the cleaned-up short-time rooms above a television-themed Soi 6 brothel, or one of the Sawadee-chain rat taps, with their peeling paint and broken shower tiles. But, as you know, I have standards.

So I upgraded to Soi Buakhao.

Well, actually just off the “High Street” in Pattaya’s “Little Britain”, on Soi Honey, right between the ladyboy massage parlour and the big soapy.

It annoys me that the joint now includes a 200-baht breakfast I’ll never be awake in time for, however. Before that, this place was just 1,000 baht a night. I’ll just have to steal some towels to make up for it.

Soi Buakhao is a useful base of operation, as you can travel by baht bus (10 baht) down to South Road and hoof it to Walking Street, or north (10 baht) on Second Road to Soi 6.

Now, Soi 6 is the no-brainer choice for an affordable romp and, given enough effort, you can befriend a sweet young thing for an hour or so for 1,000 baht, plus 350 baht or so for the room charge, plus the inevitable drinks for you and she. My last couple of adventures set me back about 1,600 baht total.

But prices for everything have gone up precipitously on Soi 6, based on my addled recollection. I seemed to have missed that entire “shag me silly for 700” period, and gone straight from “500 baht is a ridiculous deal; let’s bang two” to “1,000 baht? You’ve got to be kidding me”.

But slogging through the Pattaya Perverted forum one night, I came across the news that the fabled Telephone Bar, tucked away somewhere on the Darkside where I’d never venture, had opened up a centrally located bordello, Bar de la Poste, or, without the posh French whitewash, the Post Office Bar, on Soi Lengkee.

Posted In Pattaya

Bar de la Poste is another weed in the overrun garden of “gentlemen’s clubs” in Pattaya trying to position themselves as something higher-class than the gritty grottos full of Spandexed slurpers on Blow Row. If anything, however, they’re probably worse. Although they are cheaper. +1.

Owing to the tawdry carry-on taking place in the relative open there, Bar de la Poste tries to hide its existence from the local plod, sporting only the smallest of signs and the requirement you be buzzed inside by a ladyboy lunk. The next thing that strikes you is how dark the place is. I mean really dark.

On a return trip at night, I found it was even darker — as in nearly pitch black — as there was no daylight streaming through the stained-glass front window.

It turns out there’s a very good reason for the darkness: You really don’t want to see these Post Office clerks in good lighting. The darker it is, the better these mattress matrons look.

Now, they aren’t Bali Hai flyover horrible. We’re merely talking a bit older, a bit plumper, a bit more, shall we say, broken in. Of course, if you are like half the geezers pushing 70 while being propped up on their high stools, 35 probably tastes like spring chicken.

The standard postal worker uniform here is a clingy, stretchy tube dress, and that’s it. No risk of a bra or panty getting lost in the mail. And these Sybil personalities really do take the “service with a smile” motto to heart. As you walk in, the entire crew shouts “good afternoon” or “good evening”. Polite prostitutes are a rare find.

If they’re not preoccupied – and the place can get busy, leaving punter to putter alone for a while – one or two of these dented dollybirds will stroll over and engage in some calm chit-chat. But buy them a drink and things suddenly heat up – for them at least, as they suddenly feel they need to pull down their tops and hike up their skirts to cool off.

Things move in a predictable direction from there – usually to behind a discreet counter in the back or a curtained-off sofa where your package can be properly addressed and stamp licked for 500 baht.

If you’re so inclined, you can pay 200 baht extra freight and check whether your ageing letter carrier’s mail slot still is in working order. On one afternoon visit, I got the distinct impression my mid-30s civil servant had not received an express delivery in quite a while. After stamping her third receipt, I suggested she should be paying me for satisfactory service.

Posted In Pattaya

There are no rooms upstairs, but the sofa will still cost you 300 baht. That does cover more than one carnal courier if you have more than one package to deliver. To dissuade any undercover foreign police grasses from thinking you’re actually paying for you-know-what, the French braintrust behind Poste de Prurience also includes a drink of your choice for that 300 baht. Now there’s an idea that should be widely adopted.

In fact, all the drinks, both lady and otherwise, are downright affordable with bottled beer at 80 baht and lady drinks at 110 baht.

The bottom line is Bar de la Poste is a must-stop on Budget Bobby’s male route. Just do that math: Two beers, two lady drinks, barfine and short-time ride on the sofa for 1,300 baht. Or, for the adventurous, a bird on each arm, six lady drinks total, three beers, and a double oral examination for 2,120 baht.

Now that’s something to write home about.

Send your comments, questions or tips to Budget Bobby here:

Budget Bobby is tighter than a duck's arse and is your #1 resource for saving cash whilst out whoring and touring


A Legit Question



A Twitter follower has a legit question – What is the point of leaving a seat vacant when other people who are standing on the BTS can literally smell each other’s armpits?

This very topic came up in conversation the other day with me and a few friends who pointed out that everyone on the BTS wore a mask and it couldn’t be compared to sitting in a pub or a restaurant.

As you might expect, I disagreed.

A Legit Question

Sure, while waiting on the train stood on the platform everyone is spaced out 1m apart… most of the time. And yes, everyone is wearing a mask but once inside the carriages during rush hour people are touching each other. Isn’t that the main way this coronavirus spreads?

By comparison, if you were sat in a pub or restaurant you’d be sat apart, no touching, no nothing. Sure, people wouldn’t be wearing masks but with numbers now so low the chances of catching anything has to be very unlikely.

So squashed together wearing masks is safer than being sat apart without one?

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Hey Dickboy, why aren’t you talking about what’s going on in America right now instead of sharing pictures of ugly women?

hey dickboy

Stick Says: I have no interest in what’s going on in my own country let alone yours.

Keep em coming… your feedback, thoughts and abuse make it all worthwhile.

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A #GammonSteakMoment – What The Hell Is That?



In the most basic terms, a #GammonSteakMoment is a simple and silly event that can occur anywhere at any time that is guaranteed to ruin my whole day and comes from a hilarious conversation over a few beers with J & J who were taking the piss out of old Stick for spitting the dummy at insignificant shite.

It all started out with me ordering a Gammon Steak for my lunch one day that despite telling the waitress twice what I wanted as we confirmed the order the food failed to appear on the table in front of me.

I was bloody starving and my entire day was ruined.

I sat buggering about on my phone while the other half fed her face as often the Thai dish will arrive first. My belly was rumbling and my mouth watering as I sat thinking about my food. I’d not eaten gammon steak with pineapple, a fried egg and chips for about 4 years and this was all I wanted.

Fat face had already licked her plate clean and there was no sign of mine. I even sat there making excuses like the kitchen must be busy.


“Do you want me to ask the waitress will it be long?”
“Nah, it will be here in two tics”.

Two tics my arse. The gammon steak never made it out the fucking fridge.


The silly service lass couldn’t even get a two meal order right and there were only about six people in the bloody place.

My day was ruined. And no, I’d waited 30 minutes already and I wasn’t waiting for another 30 so don’t even think about suggesting such a sensible idea.

And so, it began.

Now any time something trivial gets on my goat it is referred to as a #GammonSteakMoment and yes, it is always something that doesn’t really matter but for some reason, I let myself get wound up by it.

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