ironic view of social security in Thailand
Fancy having a bash at running the British government? Come to Thailand!
Only recently the British government started shouting at me. It took all my pension back and a good bit besides and told me it had forgotten to ask for my tax return for 5 years. It continues to this day to write to me and on about the 6th of April warned me to file my tax return for the year ending the 5th of April. That’s how hot on me they are. Of course I live in Thailand but with a small business in the UK, well, of course I have to pay for services I hope never ever to use. The Brits are doing this because they hold their heads high, they are on an island and they have brexited. The money coming in is not the same as before. Ho ho! They are also doing this because they have always done this. They are doing this because handouts and the NHS are expensive, not to mention their noble boys in blue, all looking pretty youngish these days (to me).
All of which got me thinking about those guys, guys mainly, who arrive in Thailand, set up government here, and support a Thai family plus possibly a village buffalo or two (but that’s an old joke, not worth repeating too much). They run the concern like the Brit government, paying social security, handing out for illegitimate babies, health-care expenses into the bargain, heating (in the form of the air-con always on for a few months)…………that sort of thing, and you know what I say to them, I say the best of British luck.
When the money runs out, they work or they kill themselves or they return to Brit with empty pockets…that sort of thing.
So, who wants to be a Brit in Thailand? Who wants to be a Brit in Britain? Is the money going to run out over there faster than over here? Who knows? In the meantime, yours truly is taxed to help friends like my mate, Jimmie, who broke his ankle in a fight here in Pattaya and needs big NHS services (he’s 69) while I govern my Isaan family here and the money dwindles here. It’s tough governing and I only hope I will have memorised “To be or not to be” by the time the last baht is swallowed (by the village buffalo?) and he, the buffalo, nodding in my direction, drops a “sweet” load to help fertilise the alcoholic lands around Buriram.