Sick Pedophile Finger-Pointing Sickos



about obsessive-compulsive social disorder

I know it will come as a shock but I got talking last night to a guy I don’t know. Outside a 7-Eleven shop near Nirun Condo in Pattaya Klang I mentioned that when he hit palm against palm with a little boy at the edge of the downstairs-pool in our condo-complex he was doing something which might arouse the suspicions of pedophile-obsessed westerners and Americans, only I didn’t put it like that. HE put it like that! He had previously mentioned that here in Thailand, and especially in Pattaya, to look at a woman is not forbidden and to talk to a woman young enough to get you arrested in Great Britain is OK, too. The guy who introduced himself as one from Ceylon (I corrected him Sri Lanka) also told me he has a younger brother who studied in educationally-number-one England and now lives in nudist Brighton. So when I mentioned that little boy and the palm-slappery, politically-incorrect and morally reprehensible, hand-hankying,  episode-cum-incident-cum-incumbent-investigation-procedure-awareness-situation, he said with withering contempt, “Those people are sick.” He then proceeded to laugh ruefully and told me their sicko mentalities are good for his business. I then shouted out, “You will like the book I wrote!”

The book I wrote.

As yet I haven’t the foggiest what his business might be that caters to law-abiding citizens on the lookout for pedophiles. I live in hope of getting to know him and his interesting, internet-business concern. I am almost sure the guy took exception because prior to our 7-Eleven, unexpected rendezvous he introduced his little friend, the Thai five- or six-year-old blighter, with, "This little fella is my greatest friend.” I think the little boy’s mum is a professional hooker and is probably not this guy’s greatest friend. Indeed, she parades around the pool in high heels with long, white legs that remind me of the great egret’s on a randy day’s outing into ornithologically compromised flatbumplands. (But I mustn’t start on me egrets.)

      I now have to go back to a Wimbledon Common Womble and a meeting on the 18th of December, 2016, when yours truly was sweeping everyone off his feet at a Pattaya Expats Meeting, talking and promoting that great diatribe against Europe then called “Collected Selected Words” and now added to, updated and called “Sexy Thai Bar Girls And Me / Sex Adventures In Asia”. Why? Because I was told “Collected Selected Words” is a title that Geoffrey Chaucer might use but your average Joe Bloggs would think the creator of such a title had his head stuck up his f…… arse. Upon this hint I of course changed the title while still (secretly) preferring the former. At said meeting, if you care to remember, there was the fantasy song-writer Barry Upton who tells everyone that Pattaya is a “wonderland” and to that meeting he brought along a Wimbledon Common Womble who told a story that included him pushing past Cliff Richard and all the other pedophiles to get an interview with a pretty famous crooner. When I got up to speak I said I thought Cliff Richard had been cleared (whereas Jimmy Savile or Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile* hasn’t!) and I believe I pointed out that Cliff Richard’s life is none the better for his experience at the hands of the Brits, the tabloids and the others and t’others. But Wombledon Wimble’s jibe serves — "Cliff Richard and all the other pedophiles." Doncha just love what that implies? About Womblehead, his world of pop, his country, and all those guys and gals who jump on the suspected. (Here I am not implying that ex- and contemporary pop-stars should be on the ball but wouldn’t it be nice if they were!)**

      Some time ago I was out swimming in that Nirun pool and three Thai youngsters grabbed my shoulders and took a swim-ride. They had a great time and me an exhausting time because not being a dolphin and certainly not a shark, to carry little children means swimming strenuously and mostly underwater. In fact I’m lucky to be here. The kiddies enjoyed the ride. I sort of enjoyed giving them a ride. They were interacting with a grown-up (and a foreigner). I was interacting with them. No one batted an eyelid. It was normal. It was natural. It was a good way of bonding. It was not sick.

      Got it?

The swimming-pool where nothing untoward happened.

*Just another example of how the British confer titles on pedophiles (Sir James Wilson Vincent Savile) whilst trying to prosecute anyone who shakes a child by the hand.

 **Example of a generalisation about pop stars’ grey matter, not liked by intellectuals and in this instance by pop stars, either, but occasionally used by me as a way of saying I am intelligent and they are not which means to intellectuals and to pop stars that I am not. Ho ho!

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