Doctor Who?

Students,

Ok so attend closely, here is the situation: There is a man and he calls himself The Doctor. That’s it, just The Doctor. Cool, huh? Except this man is not a man at all, he’s an alien from a planet called Gallifrey and is over nine hundred years old. His alien race are called Timelords and they are able to see the whole of time, and manipulate it. They are a good people – or were – because they and their planet perished in an intergalactic time war. This means The Doctor is the last of the Timelords – a lonely god if you will. A glimmer of hope came when he met another whom you might describe as his alter-ego. He was called The Master and he displayed a thirst for power that would lead to his eventual death. The Master was unfortunately slightly bonkers on account of looking into the eye of the time vortex as a junior Timelord on Gallifrey. The Doctor did the same thing but on seeing this infinity was inspired to take a different path as traveler in time and space, helping others with his vast scientific knowledge, outwardly compact and inwardly enormous time machine, and the handy tools of sonic screwdriver and psychic paper. This machine of his is called a TARDIS, meaning ‘Time And Relative Dimension In Space.’ It is actually thought to be more living organism than machine, and it tends to pilot its owner to trouble spots so he can make friends and solve problems. The TARDIS also translates every known language so he can understand those he speaks to. Unfortunately The Doctor’s life is very dangerous, and he is often menaced by a malevolent robot race called Daleks. The Daleks resemble human-sized pepper pots and come from a far-away planet called Skaro. They were created by a physically deformed being called Davros who first programmed them to win a centuries-long battle between the two races on his world. Alas they turned rogue and evolved into killing machines, conquering solar systems and even being responsible for the destruction of Gallifrey. They have gunned down The Doctor before, but as a Timelord, he can avoid death by changing his body into another. This morphic ability is called regenerating. So far in his life he has successfully regenerated at least ten times much to the surprise of traveling companions. These companions have mainly been humans since The Doctor has a fondness for 20-21st Century Earth and its people. He has shown the stars to a number of us (by-and-large young females), yet the curse of an everlasting life does tend to mean that companions come and go; The Doctor cannot be responsible for them as they get older and fail to keep up with the running. Because of this fact The Doctor cuts quite a lonely figure, and you could say his only real companion is death. Of course he tries to have a good time while being courageous, and in his recent past he and his companions have visited with such luminaries as Madame de Pompadour and writers Charles Dickens, Agatha Christie, and Shakespeare. Companion Rose Tyler was the first person since the time war to give The Doctor real hope again, and a romance of sorts developed between the sassy blonde Londoner and the dishy suited alien. However, Rose was to be cut-off from her friend in a tragic twist as they heroically ended a laser fight between Daleks and another robot race called Cybermen. She escaped the fray and lost The Doctor, being transported to a parallel Earth. Post-devastation, Rose took on a role as adviser for Torchwood, a (somewhat) secret organization originally set-up by Queen Victoria (in both worlds) and dedicated to both salvaging alien technology and neutralizing threats from outer space. Also working for this cause are three of The Doctor’s former companions. Captain Jack Harkness is a bisexual flirt from the 51st Century now made indestructible and immortal during rescue from a Dalek attack. He leads an equally sexually experimental team from a secret base beneath the Millennium Building in Welsh capital Cardiff. Torchwood is partially funded by UNIT (Unified Nations Intelligence Taskforce), who are a covert military operation with vast resources stretching to underground bases and a hovering aircraft carrier. Medical doctor Martha Jones is among key UNIT personnel and has a wealth of experience following a travel period with The Doctor. A little older, but no less feisty is Sarah-Jane Smith. Being an investigative reporter she was ideally qualified to accompany The Doctor across two regenerations in the 1970s, and she continues to adventure in his name. Helping her are adopted son Luke, a plucky band of teenage friends, a voice-activated super computer called Mr. Smith, and a robot dog called K-9 who was gifted to her by The Doctor. Rose, Captain Jack, Martha, Sarah-Jane, Torchwood, UNIT etc will soon be called on to aid their friendly Timelord and current companion Donna Noble against the evil forces of Davros and a re-built Dalek army. The return of these enemies spells untold peril for the Earth, and if Davros’ tyrannical plot is anything like the (probably not) final scheme of The Master, more death and desperate time traveling will ensue. The Doctor will no doubt cure all ills, but he himself will be left to resume eternal wandering, sole pilot of a time machine disguised as a wooden blue police box.

Doctor Who is a genius British TV show that began in the mid 1960s and continues today with annual series. Ostensibly a family show it appeals to a sizeable audience because of a creative concept that allows episodes to be either science-fiction, comedic, thrillers, historical, or disjointed in narrative. David Tennant plays the tenth Doctor with great energy, and is joined by some top British actors in scripts by top British writers. Fan w*nk notwithstanding, this Drama Type always enjoys smart writing/acting/directing and can only encourage all impressionable students to seek out this entertainment when not being otherwise entertained in class. Oh, and it's miles better than Lost (snooze.)

Doctor Who is shown first on BBC One around 7pm on Saturday evenings.
Its spin-off shows are Torchwood and The Sarah-Jane Adventures.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Kindly remove the graffiti-ed word ‘nerd’ from your exercise book and start learning. Teacher needs a companion – cyber geeks excluded – to gush about sonic screwdrivers and not appear crazed… ‘A’ on offer??

x Teacher

Return of the 'It Boy'

Students,

I welcome you back. I did not retire or run away, much less abandon you, but chose instead to give up blogging for a bit and, given the chance, live a little. I hope you will forgive me. Being permanently based in Bangkok I’ve found an entirely different lifestyle to the previous one. Natalie has affectionately coined this the lifestyle of an ‘It Boy’. There was nothing bad about Lopburi life of course but options were severely limited to teaching, computer work, swimming/sunbathing, and watching TV with friends, grass, and a cool beverage. I was afforded much time to procrastinate with you, but was longing for something more. At the start of the year fellow teachers began to evacuate town and as teaching hours reduced I realized the job I was doing lacked purpose. So I decided to defect to the big city.

Bangkok is a wild and crazy place to call home. What struck me (and Natalie and Tara after they also came here) are the unlimited options before you. It truly is possible to do anything at any time. Making friends is easy and I am glad to say I have been spending time with many more Thai guys and girls. Of course my important relationships are still with old friends (the girls and Brad) and I try to keep our lives in synch as much as possible. It is curious to me how the people in your daily life can really make such a difference to its quality and how you feel as a person. I am endlessly grateful to Randall, Joe, Calvin, and soul brother J.W. for making the move so easy. It was a life changing action for positive reasons but, as with the whole fleeing to Thailand in the first place, it was done with little money, resources, or logical sense. I am happy to continue being near such caring people. They do not even realize that their simple acts of being around gives me so much and I like to channel the options in my free time towards them.

So what of the lifestyle? The work? The play? The boys? The ladyboys?! Upon arriving I knew that I had to take care of myself and hit on the whole healthy mind healthy body thing. I enrolled at a California Wow gym little knowing that this was to be one of the single gayest places visited in my life so far. I mean I’ve been to my share of gay bars and clubs, hell I’ve even been to sex shows, saunas (a naked party!), and an underground dungeon (purely for research purposes), but none of these quite compare to the weight room at Wow. There is rarely a woman to be seen, instead you see row after row of gods with glorious virile bods. There are young guys, old guys, tall guys, small guys, guys who are ripped and guys who are lean, guys who are beefy and guys who are cute. They all flex and lunge and cruise and peruse and when they’re done improving themselves they head out to shower and steam. Wow indeed. I of course follow and, not being known for modesty, occasionally partake in peek-a-boo antics with the horny few. But why so gay? Even before you step in from the street you can hear the thumpa thumpa of the dance music that we all know so well. Along with a personal trainer whom seems determined to hook me up with other clients, I think I may have discovered one of my queer nirvanas…

…The other one being the local club. In addition to aiming for physical perfection and continued mental balance it was also my desire as an explorer to break the enforced celibacy of former dwellings. It is an understatement to say that Lopburi did not offer much in the way of male attention. When it did, our group tended to find said males were… shall we say... not too mentally ‘together’ (further details in previous posts.) In Bangkok it’s pleasingly clear that my blonde-haired blue-eyed look is more in fashion.

I have often looked in the mirror and despaired as it seems to me that constant upkeep and repair are needed to keep the foundations from crumbling. Some lucky buggers have the fortune to roll out of bed each morning and be naturally pristine. This is not the case with me. I unfortunately am naturally lazy and having a cabinet filled with products is really not my thing. However, I can tell you that my modus operandi has always been to walk into aforementioned guy bars with an ‘I look a million pounds’ attitude. Now this should not be confused with arrogance. Plenty of gays put on their labels and strut around affectedly among the poor peasants they see without their own custom Prada. What I mean is if you have confidence that you are you and that ‘you’ is pretty bloody good then you will automatically emanate an attractiveness that can’t be bought; you will be 'It'. You know? I know that attitude is what ensures attention among the crowd and that is no different here than it was in England.

.

It must be said that the number one reason (ok number two reason) I go out is to dance. I love following the music and letting loose. When I dance I do so with abandon. At its best this means that I am totally present in the now, following the beat with a big grin across my face. When I have my friends around me it is even better. If I could highlight an experience from my new life here it would be the dancing. I do it often and a lot and it regularly leads to 'A' number one favourite thing… For the ‘It Boy’ in me it all starts and ends with the dancing.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Bang cock (That one was too easy, right?!)

x Teacher

Post IX - I Have Never

Students,

I find myself at the semi-regular (for me) junction in life where one wonders what to do next. There are of course many many opportunities for a semi-employable chap such as myself, but like Julia Roberts discovered in My Best Friend’s Wedding, reaching the 25+ wilderness of life requires one to take action and take back what you want. Unlike Julia Roberts (and her crazy nest of hair) I prefer to take action in matters of career not heart, and I find this leaves me devoid of psychotic bitch tendencies and/or the likelihood of making Cameron Diaz cry. Besides, why would anyone stalk that pouty ex of hers (and fiancé of Cameron) when she already has Rupert Everett on speed dial??? Priorities Julia. But I digress. In pondering what path to travel next I really have two options: stay in Lopburi and in the Pleasuredome (see previous post) or take my chances – and try again for another job – in Bangkok (see previous post.) I’m not sure at this point if I quite have the strength to return to the city and face more rudeness, so instead of being pro-active I will spend some time talking out of my navel with you dear students.

As mentioned I regrettably have reached the quarter century mark and this may (or may not) have launched me into my current series of existential episodes. One wonders what dreams are meant to be followed in the short time left…How one’s words and deeds can be assured of living on as time approaches one’s eventual extinction (especially as in my case no little junior’s will be left behind…) It seems apt then to save for posterity what has gone before. So I would like to introduce a psychoanalytical technique known colloquially as ‘I Have Never.’ Simply put all that is required is that the speaker (in this case Teacher) detail past deeds they have survived and then the captive audience (in this case Students) down a short of liquor if they have ever done the deed. At this point I authorize you to pull out your hip flask and pull out your moves. Work that drinking arm and exercise that trick jaw.

20 ‘I Have Never’s (in no particular order):

♂ Dated a millionaire. ♂ Trashed a hotel room like a rock star. Then bolted. ♂ Got the Romantic notion to run away from home on the back of a horse. ♂ Been stalked. ♂ Been a stalker. ♂ Done the kamikaze slide at a water park. ♂ Got a tattoo. ♂ Cooked and eaten haggis. ♂ Worked as PA to magician Paul Daniels (the glamour!) ♂ Been very naked in a very public place. ♂ Been robbed by a monkey. ♂ Drunkenly informed a (former) friend’s concerned mother that I had ‘A’ in her house. ♂ Been told off by police for ‘lewd’ behaviour. ♂ Ran for my city and swam for my county. ♂ Walked (almost) every trail and fell in the English Lake District. ♂ Survived a high(ish)-speed car crash (not my fault, either.) ♂ Caused a foreign tourist in my care to vomit out of terror. ♂ Broken someone’s heart x2. ♂ Stripped on-stage. ♂ Been so starved of money I starved myself and ate nothing but jam and pickles for two days.

Now all I have to do is pass some more time by thinking of things to do before I die... Students, I think I should confiscate that alcohol. It’s for the best.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Sober up.

x Teacher

Picture Post - 'Gaylienation.'

Students,

Today your esteemed teacher invented a new word: 'gaylienation.' This word combines several others, namely: gay, lie, alien, nation, and alienation. It is coined to describe one's outsider feelings in the world given the propensity for seeing sex all around yet receiving no 'A' for oneself, thus you would be 'gaylienated.'

Please see below some pictures from the world around me (and in my head) that may better explain this delightful new bit of terminology. You will note among these representations: fruit, an underground passage from former employment when goods were more 'plentiful', the 'big bang' of fireworks, a Thai cave entrance, and an image depicting the desperation felt when balloons (read: hope) floats away...

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Embrace the queer.

x Teacher

Post VIII - A Bitter Pill. Swallow!!

Students,

Bitter is a word with a few meanings, my favourite being the cool alcoholic beverage I am too geographically far away from to consume. It also has the meaning ‘to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth.’ Unfortunately today that is what Teacher has in his mouth and it is not something I am able to swallow down (though as I’m British I will not spit either.) A warning: you may guess that there is a storm brewing and you’d be right. If you do not wish to spend the next few minutes hearing thinly-veiled attacks on everything and everyone around, you may wish to excuse yourself, pop an apple on my desk, and return later……….. Ok? You choose to stay? Good. I assume that means you enjoy a good bitch-fest as much as any radical lesbian or muff-diving Christian.

I would like to tell you that the world I see around me is full of rainbows, smiling gay faces, and that daily I am up to my elbows in ‘A’. However that unfortunately is not the case. I, like you, have to deal with a range of unpleasant chores of life such as paying bills, marking students work (maybe you don’t have to do that you lucky buggers), and bugging the zoned-out staff in my hotel home to FINALLY do something about properly fixing my internet connection. If any of you can inform me whom I have to shag to sort out that problem then you also will be considered for ‘A’ from me… I am unsure if it is due to my former employer (read: prancing git) passing my evening classes to another teacher whom he considered to be worse off financially so leaving me with more time on my hands and less cash to flash or if I’m simply feeling some January blues. Either way I am sure that my patience is eroded and my frown lines are deepening…

Now I know it’s not in my nature to have a completely worry-free outlook and as my wise mother tells me “Boyo you are intolerant”, but I just wish sometimes that I could be a bit more ‘zen’ than I find myself able to be and not quite so inward thinking… Are you listening Id/Ego/Superego?? I am in the ‘land of smiles’ and at the moment all I do is bitch and get confrontational with those who cross me. I don’t want to look back in a few years and say “Oh Britney was I an obsessive nut job or what?” Thing is I’m sure personal friends wouldn’t suspect I was such a negative person but often when I’m on my own I think negatively and can’t just let things be… And that’s when I start to blog and you lucky students get to listen to my rant!

Sooooooo in an effort to feng shui my subconscious (read: offload), in our blog today I will allow Id/Ego/Superego to each choose one matter to give their two pence on and then said matters shall not be discussed again. (Former yellow-woggled leader of) Scout's honour. Oh and Id has been too vocal lately so he only gets one pence:

Id: Head in bed only this week, honey. No ‘A’. So… No point in beating yourself (too much.) But(t) you gotta get some juice into your (love) machine. Go get into another tight spot and find some thrust for your life. Fill your nights with play and your mornings with lay. Roll in the hay and continue being gay gay GAY!!

Ego: Students by now you should know this mo aint no goodie goodie and he aint no racialist neither. Everyone is equal and everyone (occasionally) deserves short shrift and spankies as much as they deserve praise and tongue-kissing. What I’m going to talk about then is a point concerning simple Thai folks. I do not mean to generalize and I love this country. No offence is intended (Id: “Even from a dyke’s mouth”) and none is taken, but observations must be made.

The Thai way is one where everything must be kept happy and smiley and tradition is very important. Sounds peachy, right? Yes it is until you want to do something but can’t ‘just because.’ The ‘just because’ in question is often that someone high up does not agree with it. Now as much as I love my Queen I do not think she is a deity. She is a human being who must blow her nose, visit the loo, and deal with unpleasant people just as I do. She is not above questioning and I have the right, should I wish, to suggest she is not a good Queen (which I wouldn’t because I like her, Edward on the other hand…) So if I am instructed that I must wear black for 100 days during working hours and stay in and not have a social drink on Saturday night because an 85 year-old woman of royal connection died of natural causes then have I not the right to say “That sir is dumb”? Apparently not or I will be court-martialled (And these minor points are completely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.) What makes it worse is everyone pretending to care when they actually (in Lopburi anyway) ‘couldn’t give a monkeys.’

The Thais usually have a disturbingly casual approach to hearing of death: they shrug off that a teenager was mowed down by a bus but for an 85 year old woman with a privileged life they put up a big show of sorrow. This is all about keeping face socially and never actually saying what’s on your mind. Ever. And it begins to grate. I’ll wear the black (it’s at least preferable to yellow) because this isn’t a question of respect (for which I am happy to oblige); it’s a question of being an individual with a mind that is your own. If Thai people wish to move on and change their country for the better they really should quit thinking others are better than them, quit gossiping quite so much, and form an opinion based on the facts at hand. Doing otherwise is, in my opinion, infantile and counter-productive.

BTW it is never a bad thing when Thai men make me their king… Toodles!

Superego: I gotta try and impose some decency while dealing with a whole lot of wants from brother Id. All his wants can comfortably fit into three categories: men, food, and drink. There is one place to visit to satisfy these and that place is 7/11; a grocery store chain found in every township. Sadly, as the chain is American it is hopelessly stuffed with gross junk food (and its Thai influence means any and all snacks usually contain some kind of fish flavouring.) However these points are not the only downsides as I will explain later.

I go to 7/11 daily for items such as green tea, iced coffee, water, soda water, liquor, ham & cheese toasted sandwiches, noodles, razors, gum, phone credit, and the occasional pack of cigarettes. It’s proximity to the market makes it a perfect place to spot hot Thai guys in their natural habitat. As has been mentioned in a former post, I was also picked-up by a Tarzan look-alike there (FYI I did not allow him to make me his Queen Jane…) so 7/11 is handy all-round. However. Being a convenience store I’m sorry to report that it is often far from convenient.

As you know I swing both ways and am a chap able in dealing with problems of right and wrong. To help improve my mood (and halt Id’s desire for problem-solving through violence) when I next go there to be serviced (pun intended), I have authored the following brief open letter to 7/11. I hope that should they pop by and read this, the Thai operation will make some changes (or make some sackings.) Be a man, give their hides a tan.

From the pen of: Teacher
To: Kind Yanks
Date: I don’t do dates

Dear sirs and madams,

I feel compelled to point out some problems with service in your Thai stores. This is largely to do with customers who clearly feel polite social codes do not apply to them, but also is in part down to employees not being on the ball. Please attend closely the following points for having worked as a retail lackey over several years I know a thing or two. And it will be me who gets others blood on your store’s produce if things don’t change.

· If I am waiting patiently in line with my goods please could your staff not serve the first person who comes dashing in from the street to pay a bill, thus rendering me invisible? Not only does this snap my patience like one might saucily snap a cheeky lover’s knicker elastic, but it also sadly means I will be waiting a whole lot longer since the customer will typically have not just one bill but three or four they have saved to pay together. This of course is easy for them but it makes me want to make things even easier by ensuring they never have to pay another bill again. Instead they can rest in a baseball bat-induced coma after I’ve taken their rudeness to suggest they would like to be rendered a vegetable. Please may your staff assist me in telling these folk the Thai equivalent of “Back. It. Up.” The employee would not be considered rude. They would be providing a humanitarian service.
· I cannot speak fluent Thai and your employees cannot speak fluent English. We are therefore equally matched and must interpret each other through the few words we know of each other’s language. All I ask for are “Sangsom” (liquor of choice), “True Move ha-sib” (phone credit of fifty baht), “Sandwich ham cheese”, and “Tylenol” (drugs required after the headache that oddly seems to hit as soon as I begin queuing.) Since I use the Thai verbal tones and often also point or perform charades to demonstrate what I want, I do not understand the confusion or need for three staff to listen to me repeating myself. Strange that nine year-olds can interpret me but educated adults cannot. The only thing I can think is that I am seen in the queue and it’s then decided as I’m a foreigner I cannot be understood. Believe me I have been there: I used to serve drunk Glaswegians for a living. There is no more impenetrable accent particularly with the accompaniment of alcohol (and some also hate the English) but I persevered, and never once got my face broken. Should your employees continue to serve me with their brains switched off they may not be so lucky.
· I am not a person who especially cares what others think but I do care when I am talked about in plain sight. Staff know I have been here a while and so should also know that I know the meaning of the word “farang” (English: foreigner.) Y’know? I expect to hear this every time I walk past some gossipy fishwives on the street but I do not expect or wish to hear it as employees pass comment on me while I wait in the queue (particularly after I deliberately smiled and greeted them when I first walked in.) Yes, I have been seen inebriated in the store with Social Director on more than one occasion. Yes on one such occasion I made a loud pronouncement when asked about a certain bodily organ. There is lots of gossip fodder but could everyone just do it when I am leaving or at the back of the store trying to locate the one brand of noodles out of twenty varieties that does not contain either prawn or shrimp??

Thanking you Americans in anticipation of your kind support.

Teacher.

Ps. I like Obama now.


So you see students, everything can be sorted if you just take the time to put things right. And also know that you are always right. Should you feel offended by my rant then please avoid me anytime I really have a 'bee in my bonnet.' I hope precious ones you are not offended and know me well enough to percieve that I usually am as sweet as a smurf dipped in chocolate and rolled around in sprinklings before being dressed in a pink tutu.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

No homework today: I’m not marking more.


x Teacher

Post VII - You won’t ever want to come / go back

Students,

Advertising is something I would never usually do (even though Ego doesn’t mind self-advertisement now and again) but after mine and the gang’s sojourn last weekend to a sleepy (read: comatose) corner of the Thai countryside I feel I really must allow our hosts the opportunity to sell what is available for the foreign tourists the village hopes to attract:
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Come farang enjoy see old Thairand… Thai style Thai style!!!

You see things NEVER see before:

- The dam of water. Put your head through giant sunflower for photo – nice!
- Ancient pots and pans from forest people of 10,000 years ago (according to Japanese…)
- A forest with swamp where water comes from underground and there are many trees. Look Pollyanna! That one is green. That one is big… Take photo!
- See exotic fruits and vegetables. Look! A lime.
- Take a tour around village in car of tractor. 1mph speed. See amazing sights. Look! The dam. The sun. A field. A cow in the field. Smile for photos!
- Wake up early for go feed monks. Don’t look. Don’t speak. Don’t touch. You no wake up? The fairy comes to wake you anyway. Give him a banana! And he has a girlfriend, you know? Hahahahahaha shriek.
- Eat dinner on floor. Green curry - Thai style! Sticky rice – Thai style!! Move and talk to everyone, they Engrish learn. And fairy says speak Engrish on microphone.. is “f*cking c*nt” Engrish, teacher? We take photo and video you.
- Eat girls. They come. See you. Take photo! And see dancing girls. The music of xylophone and music of wail. You NEVER see Thai style before! I love you.
- Go bed same village Saturday night 8.01pm. Bad dogs guard you sleep.
- Sleep on wood table in Thai style RESORT house (read: shed), yes? No puking. Mind the sign.
- We give you form to fill. Take everywhere for essay write. Then take photos. Then go see monkeys.. NEVER see before! Take photos! (No wear flowers.)

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Id: No honey for honey. Or even money. Rest for wicked this weekend. Husband only one getting ‘A’. Go swimming in it! (But not in the country.)

Ego: Be British! Stiff upper lip only thing stiff in country. Unless you count scared stiff. Or stiff back from ‘bed.’ Or stiff smile. Village full of stiffs.

Superego: In the country I only wanted to go one way: home. Save it for old folks / hippy skanks / God botherers (“Ooh we can conver.. sorry, tell them about the Lord”) / swotty Japanese photo fetishists. Oh and be a man Chinese man: come out of the closet it’s nice out here and you playing straight must be such hard work.

Now before you go, let me be serious for a moment and say that the planning of the trip described was very hard work for the Thai locals and for that I am appreciative and mean no disrespect. As ever a little light ribbing is not uncalled for. However a fairy is to blame for coercing my group into attending and really should have been more forthcoming with the conditions and requirements of the area. I told him as much during the past school week. If I'd been in possession of the facts I would never have agreed - or dragged along my cohorts. Even though I come from a rural area and am used to roughing it, there is roughing it and then there is roughing it. Our experience was the latter and I am indebted to Brad and Natalie for coming along so I didn't lose my mind with the snap-happy Japanese (who were ridiculous!) or commit violence to an overly-eager headmistress.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

.

Homework: Put that lime to use and make me a little gin and tonic, sweetie.

.

x Teacher

Post VI - 10 Things I (Love) about (Me)

Students,

As I recline on the couch today I would like to share some things about myself you may not already know. Perhaps doing so will give valuable insight into the quick and brilliant mind of your beloved teacher. I have somewhat of a penchant for lists, in fact I make them all the time, and so this blog will follow that format. It may also take some time so you might want to grab a snack…

· The greatness of Great Britain or ‘Lie back and think of England’. I am very proud to be British, and more specifically English. While my home nation is actually quite irritating should you have a home there, it is wonderful in many many ways and as a Brit abroad any mention of it inspires warm feelings and the need to wax lyrical for a bit. I suppose what I particularly enjoy and yearn for is the ‘classic’ Britain with all the trappings of ‘proper’ society. I do not mind a bit if dumb Americans think we all live in castles or talk in faux Hugh Grant-esque sloane accents as long as they also notice such joys as tennis at Wimbledon, the ritual of afternoon tea, HRH the Queen, our fine theatre actors, history and beautiful architecture everywhere, clipped vowels, and our cutting sense of humour. I plan to remain an English gentleman to the core because I put to you the world is a better and more civilized place because of us. This means that I will never be heard telling unnecessarily dirty jokes or (shudder) discussing bodily functions, specifically pooh. I remember times after sharing this information where irritating friends have began describing the messiest do-dos they have ever done done. My simple solution in these situations is to share back with some explicit descriptions of gay sex. Be warned!!!!
· Phobia of old persons. This all started a little while ago in Edinburgh with an unfortunate incident on a bus. One crisp dewy morning I was on the way to the theatre to partake in a tone meeting for a play I was directing. I was running late and Id/Ego/Superego were all bellowing in annoyance at people getting in my way. I had only been seated for a few moments when from behind me I heard some unhealthy wheezes then a loud sneeze. What followed was a sensation that still haunts me. A jet of cold sticky mucus hit the back of my neck with sickening force. I had the germs of an old person on my person. Ever since I have taken more note of the aged population and they continue to alarm me… Why do they wear heavy coats in summer?? Why oh why do they use the doctor’s surgery as a place to congregate and socialize?? Although the phobia – as my friend Rosie told me it was – has slightly abated, I still inform employers if any event arises that requires me to interact with someone who is 60+ I am not the right man for the job and this was made painfully clear when, also in Edinburgh, I gave a historical underground tour to a group from the WI (Womens Institute – another quaint British tradition of old biddies meeting weekly to bake and gossip). As we were underground and in the dark, several of the ladies required me to hold their hands (!) and talk to them IN A VERY LOUD VOICE so they could hear. Students I will just say that I can’t quite do justice to the violent thoughts of Id/Ego/Superego that day. Strange that (similarly to cats) even though I put out that I don’t like them, old people do like me… Let me be clear: old people (apart from my delightful grandparents) are unacceptable to me, they are not as dumb as they like to suggest, and they should not be in my personal space. Which leads to…
· Issues of personal space. It is a sad truth that people violate my personal space on a regular basis. These people are the type not to read my face or body gestures and so they must be stopped. The latest example of personal space violation was last night, and actually the incident not only combined this issue but also my aforementioned phobia. Let me explain. I was with some dear Lopburi friends and a not-so-dear old ‘exception’ / ‘penguin’ at a music gig when said old ‘exception’ informed me I was wearing a serious look on my face. Not realizing said look is reserved specifically for social interaction with him, the ‘exception’ then proceeded to enter my ‘intimacy’ zone. This zone is usually only reserved for occasional familial affection, affection from likeable dogs, and affection from agreeable members of the same sex. What happened next was shocking to say the least and I can only suggest was karmic revenge for my laughing at a Thai man who thought it ok to pick up and lift Brad so he could have more space to sit down. Anyway, the ‘exception’ took his chubby little shrunken hand and rubbed it across my face, pulling my features into a smile… My reaction to this is probably best summed up by the following smiley, since I have yet to find words to capture my true feelings: O_o Please now click on the diagram above for a handy guide but note that the distances displayed must be x3 for me. Easy. Now there are no excuses. However please also note for future reference that if you are someone who enjoys physical closeness with casual acquaintances and you try that shit on me then I am likely to use the same loud command I do on Thai dogs: “Back. It. Up.” That I did not use this command on the ‘exception’ or else connect my hand with his face (using a lot more force than he) is surprising. In the end all I was heard to mutter was “But I’m English…”
· Pointed shit pointing at me. As revealed to close associates earlier last night I am not fond of inanimate objects pointing at right angles to me. If you are lucky enough to lie with me on my bed you will note that nothing in the room is angled directly at me. I know this suggests OCD or addiction but it is not quite as bad as my teenage troubles with plug sockets. When I used to enter rooms and see them switched ‘on’ but have no plugs in them believe me it used to send me over the edge. Now my only addictions involve excessive consumption of water, excessive consumption of BBC World News, and (since ending the happy pills) excessive compulsion for ‘A’.
· Doodle dandy. Another bit of compulsion is my fondness for doodling triangles and stars at every opportunity (usually in my office when you’re talking and I’m not listening.) As the committed teacher I am I have referred back to Sigmund, co-founder of ‘doodleology’ and can tell you that my doodles are very masculine (hardly surprising, right?) as men tend to doodle geometric shapes. If you doodle human figures and faces you are a girl. Apparently my triangles suggest a logical, analytical mind (WTF??!!) while stars suggest I was emotionally deprived as a child (haha). So there, now you can never say you don’t learn things from my blog. Oh and Brad if you are reading this, there is only one interpretation of your doodles and that is that you sir are sick and wrong.
· Syllable satisfaction. One final bit of obsessive compulsion I will share (for if we go into issues of my competitiveness, inability to walk along the street with someone else without walking diagonally into them, and crazy driving rituals then I won’t have any readership) is my compulsion to count syllables when listening to others speak. If you are talking to me and you notice my thumb tapping the fingers of my right hand you can be sure I am counting the vocal syllables in your every word. This crazy shit has taken over my life on many important occasions especially back in the dark past when I was a student and really should have been listening in class. My syllable hell pales however when compared to the weird compulsions of many of my favourite students in England…
· Toxic teens. As Brad already knows I am possessed of a cloying soft spot for maladjusted teenage tearaways and would happily adopt any filthy street kid who came my way (as long as they are not a chav.) Now now students don’t worry, I am no paed. What I mean is that where some folk coo over babies and kittens I cannot help but be charmed by snarky back-chatting kids with behavioural issues. As a teacher I find that the students whom others call “a bad egg”, “nuts”, and just plain “satanic” are the ones I identify with and enjoy to work with most. This may be because I still remember my time at school and the cool stuff me and my gang (secretly) did as opposed to the squares that did such stuff as Young Enterprise – yawn! Never mind the bookish swots (American: nerds) bring on the hoodlums!!
· Sweetcorn. Even saying the word sends shivers down my spine. It is simply evil, my arch enemy, and a foodstuff straight from the bowels of hell. What is to like? It smells AWFUL, has a weird taste and consistency, cannot be properly digested, and not even fish want to eat it when you chuck it in the water (not using your bare hands of course) because you’ve run out of maggots as bait. What concerns me most is how it seems to turn up everywhere. As you may know I regard tuna as the food of the gods so finding those heinous yellow things mixed in does not make me happy. In addition when first coming to Thailand I particularly enjoyed coconut milk for dessert. But one lunchtime at school I was heard to let out a horrified “WHAT??!!” upon noticing that also occupying the bowl were (yet again) those heinous yellow things. Now I know some Thai food does not make a lick of sense but I ask you whoever thought that sweetcorn be used for dessert??? As I said earlier sick and wrong.
· Shy bladder. Yes it is what it is. I admit my bladder is shy. I must say also I have no hang-ups about my body or social nudity so there are no problems with standing at urinals for that reason. But I have had countless incidents of social awkwardness while trying to go in company and being unable to produce the goods and the sound of piss hitting the porcelain that they expect. The worst was the pain I felt after attending an Edinburgh Hogmanay street party night. Facilities there were troughs populated by a mass of men standing so close as to be physically intimate – problem! It was an impossibility for my bladder to withstand it and the result was a severe guttural pain felt until I could get home and piss like a Russian racehorse so offloading the several boxes of wine I had downed. The whole business is especially tricky if my fellow man commits the cardinal sin of talking to me while I’m straining to go or (as Thai men do) check out the cock to ascertain size. Nowadays I find it safer to pop to the stalls and have a (hopefully) eyes-free experience in there.
· I LOVE the swinging 60s. I find that a lot of what I especially like in life (and what Id wants) actually comes from the 1960s. This has always been the case. As a young kid I had an obsession with 60s technicolour TV including Thunderbirds, Star Trek, Lost In Space (yes I am a sci-fi gay) and the Hanna Barbera cartoons. In addition the 60s gave us flower power, the moon landing, Carnaby Street fashion, (cool) hippies, and Elvis. It also produced such British notaries as The Beatles, Sean Connery and Roger Moore (James Bond’s), Lulu and Cilla (!), Julie Andrews, Twiggy, and Diana Rigg. I simply adore the colours, fashions, absurdist movement in theatre, and any collectable knick knacks from that era. I happen to slightly resent my parents for growing up at that time and have told them as much. Although I haven’t ever gone so far as to dress totally 60s (though I did do 50s with my James Dean phase) be warned it may still happen. You bet if I had a time machine, you wouldn’t see me for dust.

So there students. How privileged you are. Now you can step back a bit.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Do a little dance. Make a little love. Get down tonight.


X Teacher

Post V –

Id(iot) likes planting Seed

Students,

It has come to my attention that some of you may have observed myself and ‘good time’ girls Lady Tara and Lady Jasmine getting what the Thai locals call “mow” and what you may call pissed. Lady, I’d like to tell you you’re wrong, but that could lead to sticky situations and more than my story coming undone. In short, such lies would necessitate spankies. Our dear friend Sigmund may have been wrong about some issues (I have personally never thought of my mother in that way) but on matters of the greedy id when he is right he is right, right? And so for our blog today I wish to detail the (some say) wicked temptations in this monkey-sex town of Lopburi. One in particular comes to mind and that one is Seed Pub, a late-night establishment that students should - not ever – care to attend (but annoyingly, do.) At this point, a word or 160 from Ego, mistress (or Mr.) of ceremonies:

Ego: As the rational lez in this mind (f*ck) sandwich, may I beseech you to remember the high moral character I embody between the ‘anything goes’ Id(eas) and the yes sir/no sir top -> bottom imbalance of (NOT SO) Superego. Teachers have a duty to be everything to their students while fresh of face, young of spirit, and strict in action… (That’s action not in-action.) What must be kept frontal lobe is the oft-quoted “Work hard, play hard(er.)” Which, it is certain, is what this dili-gent teacher enjoys. “Youth is wasted on the young” is another of those academic sayings that drifts into my mind space from time to (closing) time. The point(s): “Learn it before live it.” “Work before play and play before work.” But separate the two. Always. Cooking in Hell’s fires is the result if you don’t… There that’s all the flogged-to-death analogies from me for now. Don’t have nightmares.

Now. To Seed. I would describe this Lopburian lounge as a place (It’s) Britney (bitch) would call home. As you see from her photo above, students she is an example of an individual of upmost class. Much like Seed. And, like Id, she would no doubt savour the crush of sweaty young bodies, appropriately inappropriate gropage while en route to the water closet, the series of catwalks populated by nudish nymphs bopping to stimulating (read: erotical) beats, and the hot (in the dark) waiters responsible for much of aforementioned gropage…

Saturday P.M./Sunday A.M. with my Ladies was tame compared to previous visits. You see I would never have came across this special devil’s playground were it not for my keeping company with some naughty (but nice) Thai associates. This gaggle of gays spirited me off there once, and I’m proud to say before we had the mainstream (as evidenced by my students) blocking the dance floor (read: dance square.) Back in the golden days of yore (not quite when all was still in black and white but not yesterday anyhow) it offered even more. It was simply Seedier. One could rub shoulders (and other body parts) with pimps and their prostitutes, various gender benders, and very many model-esque young upstarts in very little attire…

Possibly my favourite Seed-y night can be seen amid the photos of my earlier Picture Post, though sadly this does not quite do justice to an experience that saw Natalie mowed with the mo’s, Brad re-applying his clothes, and myself declaring “Anything goes!” Well actually I had a little (or big) bit more to declare but that’s best left as memory for the poor sober ladies of 7/11… At this midway point the gag will be removed from Id’s mouth so he can spew some muck:

Id: I’m a go-er that’s for damn sure. What goes on (with) the head is why I’m in this race. And the Thais they loves that honey, too. You gotta keep awake in this heat, see? Gotta be active not passive else you’ll be sleeping on the job. I am cock-sure about one thing though and that’s the education those students will get if they keep on going. No, I won’t be the provider. Nor will the TV… Unless of course it’s a different kind of TV…

Insightful. But students, what this really comes down to is the ‘A’ grade fun one can have as part of the after-dark crowd. While I cannot guarantee vampirism will provide you a tonsil-tickling social circle, what I will say is that the Thais do know how to party. And I will play Peter Pan on the club scene as long as I can. The Lost Boys would expect nothing less. Given my recent unfortunate (read: ‘A’aaaaaaaaaaa(h)!) ‘A’ge change, my only concession is rule #1: 'not on school nights.’ At this (jumping off a bridge) point the final thought is with the alter-ego, Superego:

Superego: (As you know) I swing both ways. But I dress just one way. To the left. Debauchery is all good and proper, but will somebody please think of the children?? Oh good. Job done then. Be a man, agreed? Go Seed!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Just say “No!”

Further reading: Today Teacher believed that the id of Student Chen could not possibly be heard from on a Creative Writing exam paper. How wrong. In answer to a question on using verbs to explain what you do at different times of day, under his ‘Evening’ heading he wrote ‘Having sex in bed.’ But it didn’t end there… In answer to a question on using 3 adjectives to describe Beyoncé, Chen chose ‘beautiful’, ‘sexy’, and ‘fucking hot.’ I of course expect him to achieve his usual high marks.

x Teacher

Post IV – The Good and the Bad (no uglies) of Thailand

Students,

I am often asked “Teacher, do you miss England?” The short answer is “Yes, you twit.” But to answer the question as thoroughly as you’ve come to expect, I will forego id/ego/superego this blog and instead employ a simple technique known as 'Pros and Cons'. I myself am a pro but a con is a person of dubious character and lifestyle. I’d like to tell you I have never encountered such persons. But I can’t. Another time we will use a top psychiatrical technique known as 'I Have Never' and information on con artists (read: a certain former live-in lover) will no doubt be recollected. But not this blog. The 'Pros and Cons' today regard the land of the Thai and my good/bad experiences therein. Probing psycho-anal-ysis is sure to find a hard answer as to why I miss England but am very happy Thailand is my home from home.

Pros: Mental health is taken care of here through sun, sun, and more sun plus ego is stroked through celebrity status of being one of the few young (and therefore attractive) whiteys in town. Lopburi is a rural area surrounded by mountains and sunflower fields where if one were feeling adventurous one could straddle and ride a throbbing motorbike yonder… Or a trip to 7/11 for more Sangsom liquor and an exciting Queer as Folk marathon with soul brother Brad could also do the trick. The tedious work of the house is done through hotel home staff, and the never-ending work of the teacher is made easier by (similarly) hard-working students whose (sometime) guttural minds mirror my own* My Thai students, and the people in general, are beyond gracious and kind. Though they think me ‘serious’ for not smiling quite as much as they, I have a lot to thank them for. And the men are pretty darn hot too. I would suggest that the Thai’s penchant for tight uniforms on soldiers, police officers, and doctors be shared in every nation.

There is however one more pro I will note and that is Bangkok. Though polluted, crowded, full of old ugly balding fat cartoon-bodied westerners, and frigging expensive, one night in Bangkok is a sinful delight. While there with friend Jamie (a man whose sexual drive surpasses my own) and Lee (a man who does ‘rabbit in headlights’ to a T before delivering a quip so cutting it draws blood) we ventured into the night on Jamie’s assertions that the good stuff would come our way through an (endlessly repeated) instruction to a cabbie of “No bom bom no pay!” For I to recall and accurately convey the sights of Bangkok’s dark underbelly that night would require a five-drink minimum. Suffice to say that each visit to the city has brought much reliable ‘A’ action and its innuendo-inducing name is not for nothing.

Cons: Aside from missing family and friends the last 7+ months have been relatively con-free. That is save for two western teacher ‘exceptions’ (now thankfully buggered off.) One important matter that I have said and said again is that yellow just does not suit me. In their devotion to the King many Thais wear his colour all day. I’d love to myself but all three of id/ego/superego would first have to be unconscious. As would I. The Dean may mutter but on this issue I won’t budge. Call me vain… but don’t call me fat. And if other Thai teachers would take that on-board too (perhaps by noticing the rage cross my face as they make that particular statement) I would be as happy and gay and light of step as they.

* As example, a whole blog could be devoted to Creative Writing student Chen. His ‘creative’ responses to tasks usually involve some obsecenely entertaining interpretation of his sex life. That is except for last week when in response to a fictional postcard writing task he explained his dream holiday as being a trip to the moon with his best bud to see how far they could shoot their body juices in the low gravity… In addition there have been some classic sexually-charged quotations purred by my ladyboy students, my favourite so far being “Teacher, do you have big boy?”

So you see what riles me about life here is far outnumbered by the delights of living in a country so unique and special. I am English so do have episodes of unimpressed-ness such as when forced to wait an age in check-out queues, but Miss Winter, if you are reading, you will be amused to hear of a reduction in slacker tendencies due to my working alongside colleagues whose own ‘relaxed’ approach often borders on inertia. My mind here is refreshingly clear, and students you will be pleased to hear that teaching is once more a real passion and reason to get me going each morning...

But one more thing to end, besides family and friends and f_ _ k _ _ g (more) what do I miss about England? In brief: food like lasagne, potatoes, good cereals, Dad’s fajitas and Mum’s roast dinner, hanging out and milling about shops like Topman, British music and music channels, British TV, Saturday nights with Morrell, long laugh-out-loud phone calls with Zoë, getting told off by Sister for not being her suitably brotherly role model, going to the cinema, red wine, hearing rain while I fall asleep, my books and DVDs, being able to teach more Drama, and… dogs that are well-adjusted and don’t want to jump out with their whole ‘all bark no bite’ schtick.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Take a long hard look at yourself.

x Teacher

Post I – They speak to me

Students,

So as I sit in my Reading Strategies in English exam watching (and listening) to my hard-working students minds ticking over, my own mind wanders and the head voices start talking again...

Id.
Ego, honey, you better provide some answers ‘cos I’m fittin’ to squash this shit! Xmas Eve was when my thing last went ding-a-ling and I want to put another ‘s’ in exercise. And no, a rude-arse dream in the Saraburi Hell HotelTM does not count for real-life arse. The horror. The horror. Bring it! Iiiiii.

Ego.
Get a grip n(a)gger and buckle up your overalls… HUNTING the bone will lead you to nowhere but a museum of relics. Yes, I’m talking troll-like farangs with bald spot and fat cartoon body… So let’s stick with the brown skins and come up with good options. Then you can come down. Then you can come. There’s:

#1. And Mr. did you think him #1! Action Man. What’s not to love? H-O-T body (check), regular texts (check), money (cheque.)

Erm… maybe TOO good-looking so probably a player (takes #1 to know #1), and busy in Bangkok.

#2. The boy. Student (not mine.) Murder on the dancefloor = killer in the bedroom. Triangle possibilities as possible boyfriend already (whom you went through to get to him – naughty!) May mean drive-by death possibility due to Thai’s crazy-inducing angst rock music tendencies and crazy gun-toting tendencies.

#3. The older man. Haha yes – makes you feel young after recent ‘day that shall not be named’. Tarzan-lookalike, Olympic energy… Cons: may be conning. 35 and no English. 35 = wife possibility.

So. Pick and mix. Over to you….

Superego.
Ok. As you know I go both ways. I have another option. One word. Massage...
The Thais do it so well. Just put yourself in the hands of that handy masseuse again and you will forget your cares and your clothes. It’s not wrong that you help him jerk for work. TLC (To like cock) is not bad. It’s good. Be a man. Put your money where your mouth is.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Help teacher get ‘A’.

x Teacher

Post 0 - The Making of a Blog

Students,

Welcome to my xclassx blog. The first thing to say is it is damn hard to do a blog. I am one of those types to start these things then get bored at the sound of my own angst and give up. I’m sure any readers would do the same if they had to decipher the back-and-forth contradictions of my mind. Not only am I not straight, I am not straight-forward. So that is why until now I have not done much cyber-sharing. But here I am in Thailand, far from my native friends, and still with plenty to say for myself and situations (usually involving our gang of miscreant Lopburians and naughty monkeys) to describe.

As mentioned, I don’t want to give you update monologues about me and my life and ‘where I’m at’ for we already have such shows as Dawson’s Creek and such warblers as Celine Dion (sorry, I know I should have put a warning before THAT mention) to give us that brand of introversion should we need it. And if you DO need that – or use your free time to pursue enjoyment (shudder) of either of the above – may I recommend medication. Or a gun. But I digress. What I’m trying to say is there will be no anal probing in this blog (though I’m sure even before the end of this post my favourite ‘A’ word after ‘arse’ will be used once more.)

But you see, why would I use this opportunity to attempt to unlock the mysteries of my inner and outer worlds when there are MANY more important things to discuss e.g.:

WHO will I bump naughties with next?
WHAT in the name of holy Hell is happening with Britney?
WHERE on (God’s) earth are those pesky missionaries gonna pop up next?

WHEN will I ever taste decent lasagne again?
WHY does it (never) rain on me? (was it because I lied when I was 17?)
And…
HOW exactly do Thai males AND females think they can look good with a
m-u-l-l-e-t??!

After a recent ‘iffy’ (read: shit) class I gave to my university students on Sigmund Freud (!) I have decided that the sex-obsessed, and therefore relatable, old fool may have been onto something. So that we can get to the bottom of all my questions (so to speak) from now on some of each blog post will be divided into comments from each part of my mind: the id, the ego, and the superego. To top it all off (so to speak) I will also very occasionally probe the MINDS of others to see what makes them tick…

Firstly though, so you know what I am on about we need a quick bit of cod psychology. Here comes the science bit…

Id = Our basic “I want!” instincts (sex, food, sex, drink, sex, toilet, sex, bitch, sex.)
Ego = Our rational mind. Seeks answers to those elusive questions and tries to help the Ego get what it wants.
Superego = Our decider of right and wrong. The conscience. Or the devil / angel thing. (Some of us) feel guilt here (some of us.)

So you will hear from my two blokes of the head and one questioning lady…
…What? I have a feminine side you know even though to look at I am All-ManTM. Matter of fact I think the lady may be a bit… dyke-y… but we’re all lovers not haters, right?

There. That was a great lesson, wasn’t it? And not even a lick of inappropriate innuendo. Please come back next time for the first official blog post. No homework this blog.

x Teacher