What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession.
Well, we’re three days into Thailand’s official high season. So far, so good. But if it’s anything like low season, things are shaping up to be a scene. Tourist traffic barely slowed over the summer, as those scaredy cats who cowered in their basements for the pandemic plus an extra year for good measure finally gain the stones to step out and take a holiday. And with Thailand streamlining the entry process, it’s looking like total chaos in the streets of Bangkok, Pattaya, and Phuket. Gird your loins, locals. It’s going to get rough.
At the same time, the West is poised for collapse. The US will plunge into civil conflict at the same time that the Dollar shrinks to zero. Europe is set to bankrupt itself, and at the same time Russia and China are joining forces to both militarily and financially crush their enemies. It’s enough to make a monger furrow his brow.
But I did my part. I actually made the effort to vote this year for the first time since 2000. It was no small feat. First, I had to register online as an overseas citizen. Then I was emailed a blank request for an e-ballot from the military, which I submitted. A few days later I received it, then printed and filled it out, then emailed it to a US fax office that would fax it to Los Angeles (because nobody in Bangkok can fax internationally, apparently), whereupon some undoubtedly brain-dead fuckwit was entrusted to fax it on my behalf to the correct fax number. In other words, I went through a bunch of shit this year to not have my vote counted. And really, does it matter? Regardless of who wins, the country will be torn apart. The Dollar will crash. The New World Order cabal will retain power. The only difference is, if Trump wins, the 3-letter agencies will eliminate him, shortening the timeline of collapse.
And so the US—and by extension, the world—is doomed. Nothing to do but bang harem girls, eat well, and hit the redlight for some tactile Thai therapy, or tactail for short–copyright BKK7.
On Sunday I finished watching Tulsa King and suddenly realized I hadn’t paid my water bill, so I’d no choice but to head to 7-11 and then swing through the Pong. As you know, it was sweltering, as it’s been for several nights running, so I skipped the terrace and found a comfortable seat inside K1. ‘Twas an irregular Sunday, in that the stage was rammed with chicks. Sabbaths are typically quiet on the Pong, but King’s 1 was jumping. My hands got tired from returning wais. Offy was off her head. She was so hopped up on something, she couldn’t keep still or stop groping me. It was a nightmare. Luckily she got up to pee so I quickly paid the bin and got the fuck out there. New2 was more wais and bows. One good thing about Cowboy—maybe the only good thing—is I don’t get recognized that much. Only the odd exPong employee makes a fuss. But in the Kings and Virgins, I’m a goddam celebrity. It’s exhausting. Many familiars adorned the stage in New2. Looking at some, I realized I have Halloween pics of their costumes going back 8 years.
Whatever the dealer gave to Offy also passed through Virgin, where half a dozen girls swung around the poles like monkeys escaped from the zoo. Yok was finally back. She said she’d been in hospital for four days with a case of bronchitis. As a child of the 80s with a father whose health insurance came from the State of California, no one in my family would consider going to hospital for something as minor as bronchitis. But the Thais seem to go at the first hint of a sniffle.
On the 30th I’d planned to stay in and practice ukulele, but my conc messaged to say she got her period and so had to cancel. I told her I’d be happy to bugger her b-hole but she said no. So with boredom creeping up my spine like an itch I couldn’t reach, I bounded out, Patpong bound. With a mini Cuban, a Chivas, and a Heiney, the world came into focus.
The night market was lousy with weird farang couples. Weird in that around a dozen of them looked exactly the same. The clam was short, a bit pudgy, and wearing a long tight dress, and the dude was an equally overdressed cuck with a matching shorts-shirt-satchel combo. As though a cruise ship had docked somewhere and minivan’d a herd of clichés into the Pong. One old fogie foursome sat in the furthest corner of the beer garden, which held around 50 people, raising their empty cans of Chang as though a western style server would just swoop in with fresh ones. Hilarious. The patriarch of the group tried flagging down everyone, even the ping-pong barkers. In the end, they gave up, and just got sober while sitting there, their eyes fixed on the K1 door.
Speaking of, later I popped into the Castle to check out the stage. It’s remarkable how much the average girl size has swelled since I first started coming here. I know I harp on it all the time, but isn’t it one of the world’s great tragedies that a whole country of fit, lithe beauties porked out in a matter of half a decade? Sure, there are still hotskinnies in TLOS, but the ratio went from 20 to 1 thin to fat, to 4 to 16. It’s truly incredible. Then the rotation changed, and the whole stage was hotskinnies, so I guess there’s still hope after all. Offy passed by me twice but didn’t come over. Either she didn’t see me or she’s mad at me for bailing when she went to the loo last time. Either way it’s a win for Seven.
The 2nd rota at New2 was 90% brand new girls. Three US army guys were finding their footing in that gogo. They had no idea what to do or how to behave. One dude eyed a lass onstage, but he waited till the end of the rota to approach her, and she scampered off to the toilet immediately. This is a basic newbie fail. If you see a girl you want, get her over. Don’t wait. Any number of mishaps can occur, not the least is she gets snagged by a different dude. Ah well, live and learn, as they say.
There’s a fairly new, stupidly hot girl in New2 who for some reason has locked onto me like a barnacle. Pulling her into the harem would be effortless, but I know she’d get addicted to the Seven gravy train and then I’d either be stuck with her or I’d have to evade that gogo for a time, which I’m not willing to do. It’s what we in the trade call a Thailand problem—whether to take on a new conc and all the annoyance that comes with her.
I started off Halloween by popping into the 2 Virgins with candy for the girls—a bag of lollies for VX and a bucket of gummy bears for Virgin Original, which garnered a chorus of “Eyyyyyyy!” plus applause in both joints. There’s something about gogo dancers when they get all scary made-up. They’re more loosey-goosey. They’re thinking naughty things. And that extra eyeliner doesn’t hurt. Most of them just did the bar minimum, which was to take black eyeliner and draw scars on their bodies. But some donned actual costumes. ‘Twasn’t nearly as festive as years passed, but I saw a dark angel complete with wings, a ladyzombie, the chick from The Ring, and a couple of sexy witches. I had one vodka soda in Virgin, and when I went to leave a new security guard came after me yelling no photo! I though he was going to assault me, but another guard grabbed him and said, “He’s not a tourist.”
It was black lingerie Pong-wide on Thursday, which made for a very cool dynamic. The girls get more horned-up than usual on Halloween, as well. It’s probably to do with the combination of black lace, vamp, and being scared. Fear can be an aphrodisiac when applied correctly—for women, at least.
Whilst on the terrace with a mini-Cuban I witnessed a carnival row of weirdness. There weren’t many costumed tourists, but a contingent of Thais came t’Pong to get their spook on. This holiday is one of the few times Thais feel comfortable going to Patpong—an area that normally no self-respecting hiso would be caught dead in. But in the same way that “nice” girls in America give themselves permission to slut up on Halloween, these Thais forgive themselves for slumming around the Pong just this once.
In New2 I was visually accosted by the hottie in there who for some reason has taken a shine to me. She stared from the stage for 15 straight minutes. Id’ve felt uncomfortable if that was something I was able to do in a gogo bar in 2024. This hold redlight rat doesn’t get flustered anymore. I can’t remember the last time I blushed. It must’ve been around 2012 or so.
King’s Corner bucked the black lingerie trend. Instead, everyone wore red. And on this night, the Corner had the highest number of smoking hot girls. I counted a dozen superhotties whom I’d never seen before. It was a Halloween miracle, Charlie Brown. Though when nine Nipons came in and forced the off-duty girls out of their stageside seats, I knew it was time to leave.
VirginX has established itself as the Patpong gogo where, if you want to have a girl or 3 over to a corner booth and do whatever feels natural, you can. The amount of dark mischief dudes were up to when I rolled in was nefarious. I again caught the attention of a newbie who didn’t know to not mess with Seven. She pit on the hard-flirt with the enthusiasm of a pro, despite looking barely 20, and got my polite but curt denial for her efforts.
Halloween 2024 in Patpong was lackluster compared to previous years. 2023 was a shaky one Bangkok-wide, because it was the first since the Plandemic and subsequent lockdown. In 2022 the tourist ban was still on—or at least, tourists were too chicken-shit to get on a plane. 2021 was just me and a couple other punters sitting at tables outside the gogos, thanks to govt stupidity. 2020 was insanely good. By coincidence, the Thai govt loosened restrictions on gogos for a couple of weeks that coincided with the 13st, and the gogos were a sexy den of spooky iniquity. In fact, that might’ve been my best Halloween in Thailand. Though having said that, pre-Covid there was an overall air of fun and frivolity on Halloween that has yet to fully return. Maybe it never will. And it’s certainly more pronounced in Patpong, where the combined devastation of the pre-scamdemic economic downturn combined with the Covid lockdown and then the closure of XXX Lounge, Black Pagoda, and The Strip at the hands of the police proved to be too many wounds for one redlight. Somehow Patpong endures, despite the setbacks. But the wild-west ambiance and sense of abandon in the name of fun that once characterized this redlight might be gone for good.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a photo record of the 3 Kings during 2022. The link can be found here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-the-3-kings-in-2022/
but only if you become a Member. The price tag is $1 per month, and new content is added weekly. I’m too dumb to figure out how to link the weekly posts to a single button on my website, so I post the links on my social every Friday, and provide a summary of all posts at the end of each month. Sorry for the inconvenience.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@bar_thigh
@BangkokNightli2
Thai chick-related artwork can be purchased at
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: Everyone already knows how great the dental industry is in TLOS. People plan their holidays around coming here to get work done. But as an American, I’m still astounded by how cheaply and easily one can get into a clinic and get work done. In the US, it takes months, and several consultations, plus a blood contract with an insurance company that’s billed thousands of dollars for what should cost around 20 bucks. I broke a tooth the other day, walked into a dental office without an appointment, and 30 minutes later left with the tooth fixed for a grand total of 1,200b. Amazing. So the pro tip is—for those of you not in the know—get your dental work done in Thailand.
