Patpong Rewind/Nana Update for 24.7.22

Salutations reader, how they hangin’? My name’s Seven and this is my blog.

For the past 3 and a half weeks, Thailand has been Covid restriction-free for nightlife venues and tourist entry, which has caused a tsunami of people, partying, and pleasure-partaking here in the Eastern City of Angels. My stomping grounds of Patpong once again played hostess to the kinds of crowds that crammed the crannies of gogo bars—not just pre-Covid, but pre-Tinder. It’s been exhilarating to watch. And with the decriminalization of weed, Thailand is poised to become the number one holiday destination on the planet. Last week, I was told the gogos of Nana Plaza were already peddling herb, and so I swung by to get an eyeful—if not a bowl-full—for myself (I’m joking. I don’t smoke ganja except on rare occasions). Here’s what I found…

Soi 4 was complete pandemonium by 8 pm. The hustle-bustle is back to prescamdemic levels, with standing room only in MNSIBD (Morning/Night, Stumble Inn, Big Dogs). The street was lousy with rude tourists shoving their way through bystanders. The “ethnic representation” in Nana is crazy compared to Patpong. Freelancers were out in force. I passed it all and made for Blarney Stone. After the constancy of 99b Tiger pints at Shenanigan’s, the 140b price stung a bit. I ordered a steak and mushroom pie (295b) after my 3rd attempt to flag down a waitress. Aside from myself, the pub held three lone punters, a birthday party (comprised of three old ladies, two kids, and a disaffected-looking hottie with her clearly paying for everything farang boyfriend), and a Thai couple on a date. There was a trio of shirtless tourists on the stools outside. Thanks to Covid, I’d forgotten about dickhead tourists who somehow can’t tolerate the heat and have to take their shirt off like a gang of witless baboons.

As I finished the pie, the place filled to capacity and the children from the birthday party began chasing each other around the bar whilst screaming. Most of the patrons seemed bemused and it was clear they knew the kids. Then I realized everyone there was a local except me. I paid and bailed.

The first gogo I hit in the Plaza was Random. No, not a random bar—the name of the bar is Random. The stage was rammed with cuties in bikinis—all my type, which is petite. I like skinny girls. I’d even prefer a flatchested girl over one with big fake tits, as long as she’s thin. They’re getting harder to find these days in BKK since everyone and their mother is getting bolt-ons. Don’t get me wrong, fake boobs can be fun. They’re like whipped cream on a sundae. All fluffy and sweet. But I don’t want whipped cream on everything I eat.

I asked the waitress if they sell weed, and she said no one in Nana sells weed. The cops are too strict. But she could go out and find me some if I wanted it. I politely declined, finished my 140b SML and went straight to Billboard. It seemed I’d been fed bad intel on the state of ganja in Nana.

As I passed through the door into Billboard, the bouncer leaned in and said “No photo no video.” Never mind that in 10 years I’ve never snapped a pic inside Billboard, why would he feel the need to tell me that? Nobody knows me in the Plaza. Was it just a coincidence? At any rate, I then asked my waitress for some weed and she nearly had a heart attack. The rumors of herb in Nana were greatly exaggerated. So I nursed my 160b SML and watched the carousel, where for the first time ever were a couple of chubsters. It’s not for lack of fit girls, so it must be because in current year, there are more guys who like rotund women. I’ll never understand it, but to each his own.

When I left Billboard I momentarily thought of trying a few of the bars that I’d missed on the last visit, but instead I just ended up going to Butterflies and the other Random. They were all rife with PYTs, hordes of customers, and wild goings on. As I wormed my way through the sea of people in the Plaza and then Soi 4, trying to get to a motorbike taxi, I realized yet another reason why I prefer Patpong. It’s never as crazy, crowded, or claustrophobic as Cowboy and Nana. You can always find a seat and a girl or three to chill with. No asshole from Addis Ababa steps on your foot. No dickhead from Dubai stands agape blocking the door to the gogo. No idiot from India leans his sweaty back against you while you wait for the loo. No cunt from Canada politely apologizes for a thing he ain’t sorry for. No bastard from Bengal farts a cloud of obscenity in the booth behind you.

Nana is like Disneyland in the summertime. It’s packed with the unwashed masses all violating rules of decorum like a symphony of shitty vagrants while normal people suffer in the suppressive shadow of their uncouth chicanery.

And so like most of the rest of the week, I retreated back to Patpong—my home away from home away from homeland for the last decade and counting. And I’m chagrined to say, I had my 2nd worst day in Patpong ever last week. The first came earlier this year when The Strip unknowingly hired a thief for a cashier whose brazen stealing caused me to write them off until she got fired—which happened a few days later. Until last week, that was the only bad day I’d ever experienced in the Pong. On Friday, misfortune struck again twice in an evening. First, I was in a popular gogo bar doing what I do—drinking, grabbing asses, and paying random girls to take photos for my FB and Twitter. This time, however, when I brandished a fistful of 20-baht bills, the girl in question denied me with an air of disgust whilst also telling all the other girls in the bar to do the same. Then a moment later, the mamasan ran over to wave a hand in my face and shout “No no no!” before turning away and ignoring my attempts to explain who I am and what I’m doing. Now, I have no problem with girls who don’t want their photo taken. Some have jealous Thai boyfriends, and internet pics create unnecessary problems, and I understand that completely. But that’s not what happened here. These bitches treated me with open contempt. After 10 years of buying drinks, covering rent, supporting kids, and paying the hospital bills of hundreds of Patpong gogo dancers, I was relegated to the status of a tourist fresh off the plane. And since I typically don’t name and shame, I won’t say where this happened, but I will say that I’ll never darken the door of this bar again. The Bible says to forgive and forget. Coldplay says forget but not forgive. Seven never forgives, and never forgets.

Then an hour later, I was accosted in another gogo by a girl who’d inadvertently been caught in the corner of a photo that I’d posted on Twitter wearing bikini bottoms and pasties on her nipples…and her farang customer who follows me and who lives in some European Union nation thousands of miles away messaged her to scold her and demand she force me to delete the photo. I told her to tell the dude to go fuck himself, and then Tweeted a drunken screed before stumbling home and passing out. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t respond with anything resembling decorum, and I probably should’ve been less-pissy about it. My excuses are, I was intoxicated and my ego was already bruised from earlier in the night. So I guess when I say it was my 2nd bad night in Patpong, I could more accurately describe it as another of countless nights where I behaved poorly and regretted it the next morning. It’s not the girl’s fault her cunt of a customer got a yeast infection over one of my photos. It’s not even the cunt’s fault. He can’t help being a cunt. He’s probably been a cunt his whole life and doesn’t know anything different. As a seasoned whoremaster and gogofly, it falls to me to be more understanding than the random doucher whose only good experience with a woman happened when he saved up cash for 5 years to spend a week not scoring in Thailand, only to finally cross paths with a sympathetic 6 in Patpong who then became the object of his fantastical dreams from that day onward and who last week found himself screaming at his phone from a basement in Denmark, “Don’t look at my girl’s pastie-covered boobies!” That’s not wrong. That’s fucking adorable. That said, I ain’t deleting a photo for anybody.

It wasn’t all bad on the Pong last week. In fact, ‘twas mostly awesome. XXX Lounge had their weekend “bunny” theme party and BOGO drinks. The Strip was raucous and fun as usual (the link to a photo slideshow can be found below). In fact, every gogo was packed with girls and good times. And occasionally, the wafting scent of ganja. None of the bars are selling just yet, but there are Thai dudes hawking it on Silom Road and you can get really gourmet stuff in one place in the Pong. I won’t name it but if you ask around or follow Pong-related Facebook pages, you could figure it out easily enough.

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: I’ve a new article coming out next week.

A video montage of companion photos for this post can be found at

For racier content, you can join a members only site dedicated to Patpong gogo dancers for just 5 bucks a month over at

Until next time, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.