What’s up, reader, how’s your summer going? Man, the weather’s been fickle lately. It’s hot, it’s cold, it’s breezy, it’s rainy. Thank God the Thai govt doesn’t strafe the sky with heavy metals and nanoparticles like they do in the West, ay? But I digress.
My name’s Seven, and I’m a pretty big deal…in a 200-meter stretch of seedy alleyway between Silom Road and Surawong. Though lately, I’ve spent more time haunting the gogos of Nana and Cowboy, since my fave pole kitties have spread out over all three RLDs in BKK. On Sunday, though, shortly after posting my weekly blog, I stomped over to Shenanigan’s in Patpong for a roast. I had to eat it fast, as the joint was fully-booked for the soon-to-air cooter footie, a thing I loathe both for the farang attraction factor and the fact that it’s chickball. Or vagoccer, if you’re American. And I’m bored to tears by televised sport. The roast hit the spot, though, and the owner slipped me a free glass of vino to soothe my tourist-weary bones. That’s class. And I have to think his presence had some effect on the music selection, which leaned heavily toward 80s classics (Erasure, New Order, Depeche Mode, Yes, Romantics, The Damned). Last week, somebody put Justin Bieber on. I about had an aneurysm. Despite the awesome tunes, I knew I had to get out before the gashball began, and so I beat it over to G’s for some soul-sating beer, where the great music motif continued with Howard Jones, Human League, Blondie, Prince, Ramones, Bryan Ferry, Mister Mister, Ultravox, and “Sheila Take a Bow” by The Smiths. That was the first time I’d ever heard that song outside of my own headphones.
I kicked off with a Paulaner Munchner Hell (150b). I haven been back to Munich since 1988 but that beer was good for a quick flashback. Score Seven—one nil. Then a Duvel 66.6 (300b). No, not the CBDC, New World Order mark of the Beast. ‘Twas a 6.66% elixir with six different hops in the mix. Two-nil. That’s when Guido showed up and bribed me to linger longer with free lamb larb, so I got a boot of Weihenstephan pils. That’s three-nil in favor of Seven. I don’t know of any opponent in this match, but competitive drinking is a sport I can get behind. It beats a game of clungeball any day of the week, and higher-scoring.
I got laid-up most of the week with a case of arthritis in my toe. Like what Shaq had when he was with the Lakers, only without the talent, money, or fame. When I couldn’t stand the sight of my apartment any longer, I limped down to the street and grabbed a Bolt to Pink Panther. ‘Twas a rainy evening, and so the joint was quiet. Within 30 minutes, though the population of dancers and punters doubled. One of the latter was toking so hard, the rest of us all got high. None of my girls were on hand, so I polished off my vodka soda and slid into King’s Castle 1 to have a beer with Jack Nites. What a zoo that place is these days. In fact, all 3 Kings are constantly packed from about half 8 to closing, 7 nights a week. The other Patpong gogos fluctuate, but the Kings are consistent.
The King’s girls relentlessly harassed Jack and I for photos from his shoot last week. I took the Lines of more girls than I wanted and had to hustle to send them their pics while they leaned over my shoulder, gently poking me in the ribs. The manager placated us with free beers. If you’re keeping track, that’s 860b in free stuff for Seven at the week. I fantasize the bar bosses do it in hopes of getting a mention in my blog but the truth is, I’m just a fiercely loyal customer. And as the number of good establishments in the Pong continues to dwindle, thank Buddha for joints like Shenanigan’s, G’s, and French Kiss for sticking around.
Bada Bing was half-full with lots of buxom belles onstage. None were in Seven’s range. Radio City had a bunch of new faces (new to Radio, not the redlight). I recognized one girl as someone I’d bedded many years ago. I couldn’t recall her name for the life of me, but I recognized her leg tattoo. She previously danced at Bada Bing, Panther, and King’s Corner. Once again, some downright hot girls were in RC, like unmined diamonds in the dark.
Friday started in NanaP after two failed attempts to get to Soi Cowboy. First, I boarded a tuktuk in light evening rain, but traffic was so bad I only made it a half mile before giving up and paying the dude to drop me off. Then I got a mo’taxi but he couldn’t find a road that wasn’t gridlocked. We ended up tooling down Sukhumvit but got stuck right at Soi 4, so I took it as a sign from the universe to give up on Cowboy and head straight to Twister. All my galpals messaged with pics of them stuck in traffic. The only familiar face at 20.08 was Jane, of Glamour fame. She gave me a nod of recognition and naught more. She knows I won’t buy her a drink or barfine her. Those days are long over for us.
Oil sat with me on the terrace for a spell while I smoked a cigar. I bought her a couple sojus and then paid my bill. As I collected my change, I heard someone shouting my name from the stage inside Twister. ‘Twas Jane, pumping me for the coins I slipped into my pocket.
From there I popped up to WhiskeyNGogo to find it shut. It’s closed for a 10-day remodel at the hands of the new owner. I messaged Beer, in case she was moonlighting at a different Nana bar. No joy. She said she was at home, broke, and heartbroken, and asked if she could come over and share a bedroom workout. I said I’d think about it.
Then I made a crazy lateral move and went to Billboard. These days the joint seems unviable for locals. It’s strictly for douche tourists, unless you’ve got a regular girl in there but even then, the sheen of drool you’d need to towel off her just seems too much. There were only two open seats and they were next to the bath tub. It was such an awful clusterfuck of in that gogo, there wasn’t really any point in being there. Anyone looking to barfine stood zero chance of nabbing the girl they want. If you just want to sip a beer and watch the show, you have to do it amid a sweaty crush of human slurry that resembles a prison riot. I had one sip of beer before the last empty seat in the joint (next to me) was filled and I was overwhelmed with the feeling of being a sardine in a dirty can. I paid my bill and left.
From there I poked my head into a Random, three Rainbows, and Spanky’s. They were all filled to the brim. If it’s this crazy now, in the deep end of low season, I can’t imagine what the redlight’ll be like come November.
I decided to check out Red Dragon again, as it’s been about a month since I was last there and because some retarded asshole on the internet claimed they got a bazillion trillion hits on Facebook last month—a lie so stupid, only a brain-damaged cunt would tell it. But I wanted to see if RD deserved that kind of attention. The last time I was there, they had the best lineup in Nana.
Here’s what I’ll say: they have one whole rotation of skinny girls. I haven’t seen that since 2016. But none of them were what I’d call “beautiful.” Twister has beautiful girls. Even Billboard has a few. RD had skinny girls. And don’t get me wrong, I’m a skinnygirl fan. But nobody in the D was above average in the looks department. I prefer that to a stage full of fatties, but worth of a zillion hits on FB it is not. And the joint wasn’t even half-full with customers. Somebody’s full of shit.
…I take it back, there was one gorgeous girl in the 2nd rotation, but her body was just OK. I guess in RD you can have a skinny girl, or you can have a pretty girl, but you can’t have a skinny pretty girl. The girls are friendly, though, and fun. So more pluses than minuses.
Then I swung round to Angelwitch to hang with JoeyD for a bit. He had a dancer in for a special pole dancer show.
On Saturday I made my way to Soi Cowboy, having missed it the night before. My Bolt driver took me on a 40-minute scenic tour of the city. I’m not sure anyone’s told Thais about the geometrical concept of a straight line being the shortest distance. But he got me there, so II shouldn’t complain. I plopped down in Spritz—the eatery next to Oasis—because they never seem to get much love. They had two menus: pizza and Thai food. Like Johnny Depp’s character in “Once Upon a Time in Mexico,” who tries the pork in every restaurant, I ordered gai medmamuang (260b). Though regardless of its quality, I never kill the cook. Spritz’s décor is reminiscent of a New York diner, or a Paris café. It’s quite homey. I asked for a Leffe Blonde but the lady shook her head and pointed at the part of the menu listing Chang, Heineken, and Singha. I got a Heiney (120b) on account of the non-GMO. The food was very decent. I prefer Derby King’s version, but ‘twas still good.
From there I slid into Shark, because as I said last week, it’s not fair to judge a gogo based on a single visit. The first plus was, the DJ was pumping Lil Dicky, which if you know, you know. That’s straight awesome. The second plus was, the girls weren’t as ugly as the week before. I counted a dozen skinnies and three PYTs. That was out of two rotations of 20 , and there was still plenty of pudge and scars. But it was better than the previous week’s shitshow. Last week, I’d’ve put Shark at a 1 on a scale from 1 to 10. This week they were a solid 3.
Dollhouse was packed already at 20.37. The girl I love to stare at who never takes notice of me…took notice. She made eye contact from the stage, smiled, and imitated my head-bobbing to the beat. Which is not what I want at all. I want to continue ogling her in anonymity, for her to look past and through me. In order to rebalance the universe, I had to ignore her for a good 30 minutes. Luckily, there were three other newhotskinnies in her rotation to grab my attention. One sported the sexiest dance moves I’ve seen in a long time. In the 2nd rotation, there were four more lookers, one of them a near-perfect 9. What’s going on with DH these days? Hotties be springin’ up.
A douche farang tourist in a vest and carrying a backpack sat too uncomfortably close, ordered an orange juice, paid and left in under 5 minutes, violating redlight rule number 1. Maybe he just wanted to be able to say he went into a Bangkok gogo, but I had the feeling he was trawling for strange. If so, he was doing it wrong. Still, it’s good to see newbs making the effort. Prescamdemic, that dude probably hadn’t left his hometown. An Asian girl took his seat and ordered a bottle of Chang. When she went to pay the bill, she was shocked to learn it cost more than a glass of draft. As she fished in her wallet for more cash, I took her bill and put it in my bin. She then stuck around for another five minutes to thank me over and over. I hadn’t intended to make a friend, and did my best to smile and divert my gaze to the stage. Finally, she bailed.
In Rainbow, Bee came to sit in my lap for the duration of one SML. She looked quite fetching in a tube top and pair of Daisy Dukes. I snapped a few pics of the view from the back and included them in this week’s YouTube slideshow (link below). As I chatted to Bee, that song with the lyric “To the window, to the wall” came on. Bee likes to sing along to songs she doesn’t know the words to, so when it cae to “Till the sweat run down my balls,” Bee belted out “Ta da ba ba ba ba ba!” She’s fuckin’ adorable. Young Satang looked magnificent onstage, and put on a clinic for these hungry eyes. I didn’t stick around to chat with her, though, and made my way out onto the Soi. It was a veritable circus, as the tourist traffic continues to beat all records.
And then, ‘twas a hop skip and harrowing mo’taxi ride through the breezy Bangkok night to Patpong and King’s Corner and two rotations of 30 girls—a team teeming with T and A. One girl onstage wouldn’t take her eyes off me, to the point that I became uncomfortable. It took me five minutes to realize it was Som, formerly of King’s 1, who’d done a disappearing act some months before and who I’d taken naked photos of for my “Patpong Dangerous” exhibition back in 2019. In the interim, she got a back tattoo (photos included in this week’s slideshow, link below). And Som’s just one of a gang of hotties in K Corner. They should rename that place “Six’n’Tits” for all the girls with flat abs and fake boobs.
King’s 2 is still borrowing girls from K1 and Corner, but they’ve also got a core team of sticks of sexual dynamite who’re exclusive to their joint. One caramel-colored newbie in sheer white lingerie stole all the looks in her rotation. Like a fuckable candy bar in a thin white wrapper was she, as if a single taste would give a man diabetes. Sweet, sweet diabetes.
After K2, I surrendered to my intoxication and lumbered home. Everywhere I went last week, in all 3 RLDs, the throngs of unwashed tourists was at all-time heights for low-season conditions. Both Sai and Bee sent me some sexy at-home selfies which I posted to X, and will include in this week’s slideshow.
Somehow I found time to barf out a new vodcast on my YouTube channel last week. It’s the first in a series I’m calling “MG’Thai,” in response to the MGTOW movement in the West. If you live in Thailand, you probably never heard of it, because this monger’s paradise has no such problem. And I have some shit to say about it, hence the new series. The first episode is already up. In case you’re interested, here’s the link: https://youtu.be/oJW140IFvWM
I’m not gonna lie—it sucks. But hopefully with practice, I’ll get better at it. My equipment won’t, though, and that’s just the way it goes.
Currently there are 13 albums consisting of artwork with gogo dancers as models, plus photo retrospectives of XXX Lounge, King’s Castle 1, The Strip, Bada Bing, Black Pagoda, and Electric Blue. All are available for digital download at https://bentbox.co/bangkoksevenart
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of red-light events. In the meantime, you can read more about Bangkok life on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Photos of everything in this blog can be found in the YouTube slideshow companion for this post at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
Follow me on Twitter @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time, 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: If you live in BKK and your aircon starts to make a funny, rhythmic noise, get it serviced. It’s the first sign of future problems, eg expelling warmer air and leaking water. Unlike other popular Bangkok “bloggers” who are really just paid advertisers for bars and restaurants, I don’t get paid to write. So when I endorse someone, it’s genuine. I recommend a company called Borigarn. 600b for quick, effective aircon service.
