What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my blog.
How’s your cough? If you’re in Bangkok right now, there’s a 90% chance you have a cough, either from the cold virus that’s going around town or the horrific pollution. I’ve started wearing a mask out of doors again, but it didn’t stop me from getting a lung full of phlegm and a nagging, hacking cough. The only thing currently plaguing the city worse than the PM2.5 are the teeming hordes of stinking tourists. Yeah, I know. I sound like a broken record. But I digress.
At time of posting, there are several redlight bars that were closed during the Covid travel ban that remain closed. There are…I think three dark venues on Soi Cowboy, a slew of ‘em in Patpong, and so so many still shuttered in Pattaya. And for the past year, venture capitalists have been reluctant to come in and reopen them. But there’s good news. It seems that fear might be waning. Last month, the two short-time hotels in NanaP were converted to brand new gogos, and a new adult playground venue is opening this weekend in Silom. But more on that later. My point is, things are looking up—at least in the ‘new bar’ arena. But I digress again. Here’s how this portly poon hound’s week shook out:
On Monday, after my harem girl put me through my paces, I had to pop out to the pharmacy for more antibiotics. The first round didn’t take, probably because I drank too much booze all week, and after two days of respite my sore throat returned. ‘Twas a reminder that every year, bacteria mutates, getting stronger, and that one day science will not be able to make an antibiotic strong enough to kill it, and then we’ll all die. The pharmacist swapped Moxy for Zithromax—the stuff they give you when you get the clap—and that did the trick, despite washing the first dose down with a glass of vodka. Little did I know that, mere days later, I’d catch the Bangkok-cough. ‘Twas at 23.00 when I took the Zithro in K1. Normally I’m fast asleep by that time, and nowhere near the redlight. Patpong was utter mayhem. I could barely squeeze through the Night Market, and the gogos were a drunken frenzy of heavy petting and tip-getting. Of appetites whetting and barfine netting. King’s 1 had a bunch of old veterans who I hadn’t seen in years, and I wondered if it was just because they come to work after I’m already in bed.
I bounced over to Virgin where Best and Nat were not on the clock. They were just hanging out there, getting hammered with their friends. I bought them some tequila, so they proceeded to molest me and take selfies with my phone while I sipped a Heiny (see this week’s slideshow, at the bottom of this post).
On Tuesday I did an afternoon Pong, starting with pad thai at Derby King and then a DE Factory Smoke with a black ‘n smooth at Shenanigan’s. The Night Market was already up and running. Half the food stalls were serving. Fat white couples roamed to and fro, seeming unsure about what to eat or do. The Shagz terrace was full of old locals and tourists, a hodgepodge of the kinds of people I despise. Whilst sitting there, Jack Nites suddenly appeared and sat for a chat. He moaned about the lack of professionalism among some gogo bar management. I understood completely. It’s not like they’re hiring rocket scientists.
Then I made a quick run through the 3 Kings and Virgin. ‘Twas a blur of tits and ass. None of my usual girls were around, probably because it was too early.
After battling the smog cough for a couple days, I headed out on Friday, not quite healed, stopping first in NanaP for Stumble Inn gai medmamuang in the beer garden. I’m really disappointed in the food around Nana. There are really only two choices: Hooter’s or Stumble. Everything else is a mouthful of ass. The Game’s good, but they’re too far away. Once you reach the Plaza, you don’t want to hoof it another 6 minutes down Sukhumvit. If only there was something like District B at Backyard69 in the Nana area. That food court is the tits. I might have to start getting Gallery Pizza delivered to Angelwitch on a Friday, like I used to do with Domino’s at The Strip.
A while ago, the walking shit-covered dildo who writes for Dave the Rave (not Dave. Dave moved back to the UK) wrote a blog slagging off the two new gogos that replaced the short-time hotels (Bun Bun and Bun Bun 2) and also went on to insult Twister, the Rainbows, and Bunny2, all but accusing the owner of human trafficking. The post was quickly shared among bar owners from Cowboy to Patpong who all agreed it was out of order and strange. Typically, that kind of sass from a farang against a Thai gogo mogul with police connections would earn him a shallow grave in Rayong. Many bar owners expressed surprise, as well as fear for the dumbass’s safety. I wasn’t surprised. He has the IQ of a bruised apple. Still, it was a weird flex, especially since he’s built like a big marshmallow. A six-year-old girl could beat him in a fight, so it’s obvious he didn’t think it through. His only defense—and I’m not joking—is, if anyone confronts him he’ll just lie and say Dave wrote the blog. So not only is he a slice of dogshit casserole, he’s also a coward.
Personally, I’m excited to see what transpires. If he dies, it’ll be like having a wart burned off the ass of the world. And since he had nothing good to say about those bars, I decided to check in on them myself, and give you an honest take.
Bunny2 has a dancer who is easily the best body in Nana. She’s built like a brick house, and she’s up for the naughty as well. And I only noticed on Friday that the Rainbows and Bunny/Buns all open at 19.00. For some reason I thought the gogos all opened at 20.00.
Rainbows 1 and 2 are relegated to the far end of the ground floor so they don’t attract a lot of punters or girls. That said, there was a statuesque blonde in R1 when I walked in at 20.30. 165b SML (the same in every Rainbow). There were lots of hungry-eyed girls in both R1 and R2. If you’re not picky like me, it’s an easy hunting ground. Hell, even I wouldn’t through that blonde out of bed.
Rainbow 2 is set up to fail. It’s wedged in the corner next to a huge ladyboy bar, which I’m sure scares off a lot of bros. Then again, it makes for another barrel in which a clever monger might fish. And there were a coupla hotskinnies in the mix as well. I remember back in the day, when that gogo was searing hot, and rammed with customers and 10s. It’s a bit sad to see it now, compared to then. But flux, as we Bangkongers (Bangkok mongers) know, is the permanent state of the redlight. Permanent in its constant change. Girls flit back and forth like schools of tuna. Economic forces ebb and flow like the tide. And punters and bar owners must go with that flow. What Lao Tsu called “The Tao.” The Way. A wise man bends with the wind like bamboo. Like the back of a harem girl in the doggy position. Like my wang without kamagra. In apparent defiance of my statement about R2’s bad location, 10 customers rolled in in the space of 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, Rainbow 4 (I got too drunk before making it to R3 so I had to skip it) was breaking all records before 21.00. It looked like Nana circa 2012—absolute pandemonium. There was more ass than I could even survey, and a punter in every seat. No wonder the humorrhoid (human hemorrhoid) was talking shit. He works for Mandarin, Red Dragon, Angelwitch, and Lollipop. So basically, Rainbows’ competition. And get this, this is how stupid he is. He thinks that shitting on his employers’ competition is akin to promoting their bars. Every time the Rave posts a negative review, it’s always some made-up horse shit about a bar his bosses compete with. Here’s the truth: Rainbow 4 hosts some ridiculously hot girls. And a few uglies of course, but I did spot three 10s.
Rainbow 5 was much the same, with 40 girls, nearly half of them hot. And I suppose that’s why the cunt feels he has to lie about these bars. Sure, Red Dragon is rife with hotties, but it’s what I call “farang owner hot.” There’s a caliber of girls who work for foreign owners, and then there are the Thai-owned juggernauts that operate on a whole other level of hotness. It’s why the King’s Group in Patpong destroys all other gogos in Bangkok and why the Rainbows, Bunnys, and Twisters are head and shoulders above the rest in the Plaza. For some reason, hot Thai girls gravitate to the Thai-owned joints. Not all, but most. And so what else can a brain-dead pile of excrement do but tell lies about those bars in a pathetic attempt to ward off customers? If I’d grown up eating paint chips in California’s Inland Empire I might be as stupid.
But since I’m not paid by any bars, I’ll tell you the truth. The hottest girls in Nana work in Rainbows 4 and 5, Twister, and Red Dragon, with a 10 in Bun Bun 2 and another in Bunny2. I didn’t hit the Bun Buns on Friday because I was just in there a couple weeks ago, and I still needed to hit Cowboy.
Walking down Soi Cowboy is a lot different in 2024 than back in 2014. Gone are the gangs of superhot, super skinny girls outside Tilac and Cowboy2. They’ve been replaced with herds of cattle. The last decade has seen a reciprocal trend. As more Western fast food joints appeared in BKK, the skinnies gradually vanished. We went from 9 skinnies to one fatty, to 19 fatties to one skinny, which is fine for someone like me who’s had the same harem for a decade. But for my LA friends, who I tried for years to coax into visiting, it’s too late. They missed the hottie window. And so did everyone who waited till Covid to get inspired to finally take that holiday.
Dollhouse had no open seats downstairs so I was relegated to the balcony where I found Jack Nites chatting up the manager, Dennis, who in a weird instance of kismet, used to manage a bar in West LA where I would often go after acting class back in the 90s. We were likely there at the same time. Carl Jung would’ve called that synchronicity—meaningful coincidence.
The DH hot girls that I usually drool over weren’t in, so after finishing my beer I bailed. Rainbow’s stage was stacked, and I wondered if it was just coincidence that all the best-looking girls were former Patpong dancers. I’ll say this. Regardless of size and shape, there’s a shit ton of sexual energy coming off that stage. Three 9s and two 10s in the first rotation. The 10 was just magnificent, though I got the feeling she’d be a bad lay. The perfect ones usually are. When she’s that hot, she never learns to make an effort. The best sex partner is an 8. She’s hot enough to get up for but imperfect enough to’ve learned a few tricks.
I saw Satang but she didn’t see me. Just feasting my eyes on her trim body and sixpack abs was sufficient. I remember a few months back, Bee told me they were planning to open the upstairs portion of the gogo. It never happened but things seem to be going well now, so there’s still hope. The 2nd rotation had two 9s. It feels like a waste to schlep all the way to Cowboy for just two bars but I still do it, because you never know. In fact, as I was leaving I spotted the hottest girl I’ve seen in Cowboy in years. She was standing outside a money-suck of a gogo that I swore I’d never hit again. I dropped 1500 in there on two drinks for her, one for me, and every barmaid and dancer bugging me for tips.
Somehow I knew she’d say she doesn’t go with customers. I find them the way I used to fall in with LA girls who were mentally broken but awesome in bed. We gravitate to each other like celestial bodies. And my record for converting no-go’s to harem girls is 9 for 10. I like my odds with this one.
Then I hit Patpong, where Virgin was completely crazed. There was so much poontang being slung around it was hard to know who was coming and going. I saw six barfines in 30 minutes. The stage was so crowded that many of the hotter girls were stuck at the back. I managed to spot four new lookers, a trend that’s increasing across all redlights. And management pain my checkbin again. I love that gogo.
From my seat, I watched a pudgy Chinese dude molest Luktal (informally known as catgirl from Bada Bing) and Nat sitting with a rotund American who was too scared to touch her. In Virgin, a customer who isn’t sitting with a girl is an oddity. I get away with it for the most part, because I’m Seven. Even still, newbies try to come over. There’s a lot of flirty hunger in that bar. If the DJ turned the music down, I bet you’d hear them all purring like cats in heat.
King’s 2 was a fever dream. I’m almost never out past 23.00 but my Nana-Cowboy odyssey took up most of the evening. Latepong is a unique setting. Everyone’s drunk, and there’s a hallucinogenic vibe in the whole of the Pong. I don’t know another way to describe it. The night turns dreamlike, and mongers begin to consider avenues they wouldn’t normally take. I almost barfined a girl from virgin before regaining my senses. K2’s hottest were already gone by the time I sat down. The vodka was mere perfunctoriness. I snapped a photo, which normally wouldn’t be a bid deal, but I’d accidentally left the flash on. It traumatized a few girls, and I ended up having to tip the entire rotation to calm them down. Then two galpals insisted on having their photo taken outside. I almost forgot to finish my drink. And crazily, I almost barfined a girl in K2. She’s a skinny little thing. Blonde. She kept smiling at me in that way that says, “I wanna do dirty things to your wang.” Mongers know that smile. It’s very distinctive.
On Saturday I got a surprise Line from a long-lost harem girl who needed fast cash and so begged to come over. I said “fine.” This was at 11 am so I jetted out to Paddy Reilly for their new weekend brunch. It’s a bit like a carvery, where you choose your meat: lamb, chicken, pork, or my choice—prime roast beef (425b) and a glass of red. Everything was excellent. I normally skip the veg, but the peas, carrots, potatoes, and cheesy cauliflower were all superb. The truffle mash was outstanding. The beef was tender and delicious, and the gravy—which is surprisingly hard to get right—was simply sinful. The wine paring was perfect, and when I emptied my glass and the server came to offer me another, it took my retarded brain a minute to figure out that I hadn’t purchased a glass of wine, but a 2-Hour free-flow of endless booze for 399b. So I switched to Heinies and carried on imbibing. In all, ‘twas lunch and 4 drinks for 824b. That’s a sweet deal.
Then I went home to sleep off the daydrinking and woke up just in time for ye ole harem wench to say she was on her way. Then I had what I call a Thailand problem. I’d run out of sex lub and had to rush out and buy some from the nearest location, which was the supermarket where I buy all my groceries. The knowing smirk on the cashier’s face was sufficient penance for not being better prepared.
When the girl and I were properly exhausted, she took off to Nana and I slipped into Patpong like a hand into a glove. Soi 1 was a zoo. I found a seat in King’s Corner for their 60 smoking hotties in red lingerie. Lots of girls had the ‘flirt’ setting turned up to 11. I wasn’t sure if they mistook me for a tourist or knew me as the Patpong gravy train that so many girls describe me as.
K2 had mostly chunkers onstage, with two skinnies, one of them a newbie. I’ve managed ot get a couple of girls in there nicotine-addicted to cigars. What started as a lark—me laughing at them as they try to smoke my stogie (heh heh)—has turned into getting hassled for daring to show up without one.
K1 was too crowded. I did two laps in search of a seat while Offy shouted at me from the stage like an angry mom. I promised to try back later and took off to Virgin which surprisingly wasn’t busy (20 minutes later, all seats were taken). Only one galpal (catgirl) graced the stage, plus the two ultraskinny girls who I can’t decide whether to make part of my harem. I don’t like to bring in girls who’re still on the pole. It’s risky. But after five or six vodkas, my common sense vanishes and I start throwing my Line ID around like hotcakes.
By 22.20, Virgin was an insane asylum. A farang clam climbed onstage—I haven’t seen that in a month or two. I threw up in my mouth and then snapped a photo, hoping to make her infamous on the interweb in hopes of getting these cunts to stop. But I know they never will. Like a turd in a chocolate factory are these foreign skanks when they invade the sacred space that is a Thai gogo stage. And FYI, the bitch didn’t just swing her fat hips a few times and exit. She stayed up there. And her swarthy boyfriend and his fat wingman even joined her. They were a trio of idiots making complete assholes of themselves. I’ve included their pics in this week’s slideshow (scroll down to view) hoping to shame them.
At 22.40 a new girl tried to come over and put on the hard-sell but another dancer grabbed her arm and pulled her away saying, “That’s Seven. He’s not a customer.” Which is only partially true. Then three more skinnies attacked me, and I suddenly realized that there are five nearly-identical slim girls in Virgin, and I couldn’t remember which one I was drunk-pursuing. That’s another Thailand problem. Getting blasted and not remembering which hot piece of ass you were tryina bang.
The vibe in Virgin was so good, I stayed for three beers. That’s a thing unheard of since the days of XXX Lounge and The Strip circa 2016. And get this—the farang snatch who got on stage earlier found a pole in the corner of the gogo, changed into one of the dancer’s outfits, and carried on shaking her flabby ass. I tried to snap a pic but it was too blurry. Still, I snuck it into the slideshow. Some sad random customer came over and tried to get in on that action. It was Loserville from soup to nuts. I nearly choked on my own vomit.
Then I tried K1 again but it was still full, so I gave up and went home.
Many years ago, I was a part-time writer for bangkoknites.com and patpongnightlife.com. On one of those platforms, I can’t recall which, I wrote a post called “Seven’s Dream Gogo,” where I described what in my mind would be the perfect gogo bar. In short, it was a multi-floored wonderland with a gogo bar on one floor, a tattoo parlor on another, a regular bar where you could take your girl off the stage and sit down for a quiet cocktail and canoodling, a cigar lounge on the roof, and other Disneyland-like amenities, but for adults. In my mind’s eye, it’d be an all-inclusive playground with so much to do and see that there’d be no reason to go anywhere else, and I ended the blog by begging for some rich benefactor to step forward and build it.
Well my friends, somebody has beaten me to the punch. It ain’t an exact manifestation of my fantasy, but it’s damn close, and goddam if they didn’t put it smack in the middle of my home turf. The only negative is, it’s not in Patpong. It’s a 3-minute walk from Patpong. Or a 20-second motaxi ride. Anyway, here’s the lowdown:
Miami Vice is a 4-level naughty playland situated next to the stairway to the Sala Daeng BTS station on the north side of Silom Road. The ground floor is a cannabis dispensary (no word yet on what they’ll convert it to once the new govt recriminalizes ganja). The floor above is a lounge/hangout spot (presumably to consume the ground floor purchased product). The 2nd floor is a gentlemen’s club. The 3rd floor has private karaoke/party rooms for rent, and the rooftop is a jacuzzi bar. Mother. Fucker.
As someone who doesn’t smoke herb, I’m only interested in the girls on the 2nd level…and maybe the prospect of smoking a cigar on the roof. But goddam, talk about the entrepreneurial spirit. These dudes aren’t messing around. And with all the nearby restaurants, I wouldn’t put it past them to have some kind of food delivery system, so someone like me could munch on Texas Chicken whilst squeezing the tits of a gogo dancer and ostensibly never need to leave, except to go home and sleep.
The owner’s main aim is to sell packages, eg you pay a flat fee and get access to unlimited booze and ganja, plus a VIP room and a gaggle of female companions. If you just want to come for a drink and bail, or come for a joint and bail, you can of course do. But the focus is on creating a 4-D party experience for serious revelers. A soft opening is set for Wednesday with an official grand kickoff on Friday.
In other news, despite a strict ban on Airbnb’s in my building, two condos on my floor are currently occupied with trios of holidaymakers. One’s from the UK, the other are yanks. They’re extremely loud, and I want to murder them.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-related stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Artwork and photo albums from inside the gogos are available for digital download at https://bentbox.co/bangkoksevenart at super-low prices.
A slideshow companion for this post can be viewed by scrolling down this page, and slideshows from previous blogs going back several years are archived at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: NATO is currently doing wargames in Poland with 90,000 troops. The World Economic Forum is calling for outlawing farming and global population reduction by 7 billion. China has created a strain of Covid with a 100% kill rate. Denver hospitals are vaccinating their staff for Ebola, anticipating an outbreak. All that is to say…get busy livin’ my friends, because we don’t know when the whole world will go tits-up. We only know that it’s inevitable.
