1) The Pub Crawler
The Pub Crawler often travels in groups from Khao San road to Phuket then around a few of the major islands.
They have only seen the street that leads from their shabby backpacker hostel to the bar that does the best 2 for 1’s and they quickly adopt a routine of drinking until 4am, sleeping through the day in a sweaty, humid room, then crawling out of bed near sunset to start drinking again.
The Pub Crawler will be the first person to sign up to fight in the ring
Consequently, the Pub Crawler returns home even paler than when they left for Thailand, but sporting a red nose and shirt marks from the one day they had to lie on the deck of a boat transfer to sleep off their hangover.
The Pub Crawler will be the first person to sign up to fight in the ring for free buckets in Koh Phi Phi’s Reggae bar and will inevitably be knocked out by a slightly more sober Pub Crawler.
Collective noun: A punch of Pub Crawlers.
2) The Full Mooner
Post-Gibbous, an uneasy feeling crawls across the Southern islands of Thailand. The growing moon begins to cause a stir in the blood and Full Mooners feel intrinsically drawn toward Koh Phangan.
Each begins to gradually clad themselves in more and more neon and whisper in hushed tones of the encroaching madness.
At the moons fullest, both sexes don their mating colours and the frenzy begins. Alphas will try to peacock their way into the pants of their targets by dressing exactly the same as everyone else, but bigger.
Females will write “Put dicks in here” on each others arses…
Females will write “Put dicks in here” on each others arses in a subtle shake of tail feathers. The lucky couples who manage a kiss without glancing off each others gurns – then simply mate on the beach like they are attending a Dothraki wedding, or retire to a 94 bed dorm to join the 30 other couples going at it.
By sunrise, any shed inhibitions are washed out to sea along with the urine of thousands of pissed-up revellers, to return to the tides as a sacrifice to the next moon. A typical Full-Mooner will always say the previous was better… but the next one will be immense.
“Did you hit the 25 year anniversary full-moon? Man, that was sick. All I can remember is puking up a brutal mushy shake and digging the remnants of a broken glow-stick out of these burn wounds…” (Shows a scar that he has had underlined with a sketchy “full moon 2k13” tattoo).
Collective noun: A howl of Full-Mooners.
3) The First-Timer
Stepping out onto Khao San road at midnight, 40 minutes after landing at the airport, the First-Timer will walk down the street with a wide-eyed panic on their face that screams “COME AND HASSLE ME. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I AM DOING!”
Within minutes they will have been taken under the wing of a ‘friendly’ local who will guide them to book a week long premium tour of service station restaurants and wood-carving shops, and put them up in his mate’s little shit-hole for 40 quid a night because of “high-season prices”.
Within minutes they will have been taken under the wing of a ‘friendly’ local
They will have been forced into several suit shops and bought their way out of the pressure cooker by purchasing two pairs of ill-fitting pants.
Those that make it through their first week often evolve into the Pub-Crawler or the Full-Mooner. Those who crumble at the sight of fried locusts or fall into the trap of “Tuk-Tuk, 1 dollar, anywhere you want”, often phone home for flight change funds to replace the £1,000 cash they had pick-pocketed by the ‘friendly’ local.
Collective noun: A target of First-Timers
4) The Beach-comber
Whether touting tickets for dodgy boat trips or herding a crowd like a pied piper, the slimy beach-comber knows his audience. He will skip the pasty beer-bellied males in favour of the bikini-clad groups of girls to offer free shot vouchers and 2-4-1 deals if they bring more of their ‘hot friends’.
Don’t worry pasty beer-bellied males, he’ll pick you up on the return trip with the promise of said ladies as a ‘guaranteed show’.
The beach-comber worked in telemarketing in Scunthorpe for six years
The beach-comber worked in telemarketing in Scunthorpe for six years before he decided life was not just about selling life insurance, it was about selling cocktails and foam parties.
He swapped the suit and steady income for dreadlocks and his very own hammock behind a bar. He’s not bad looking, despite the dreads not quite reaching the front of his forehead anymore, but surely any girl who’s savvy cannot be attracted to his savage douchery?
Inexplicably, the Beach-comber will be seen at the end of most nights with a different girl on his arm from the night before.
Female Beach-combers seem to find it even easier to bring all the boys to the yard. They just bring their bikini and their milkshake and the pasty beer bellies will follow.
Collective noun: A slither of Beach-combers
5) The Disgruntled Local
From the kitchen of her tiny cafe she has seen Bangkok sprawl and transform to a Bladerunner-esque world of neon and steam.
20 years ago she served good food to happy customers and now she serves novelty barbecued scorpions on sticks and liver-destroying Thai Redbull vodka buckets.
She is the mama of her corner and even the local street dogs know not to take the piss
She is the mama of her corner and even the local street dogs know not to take the piss, or suffer the high pitched screech that only Thai women over 60 and under 5 foot seem to be able to make.
She works next door to a street-side massage parlour and, in their busiest times, she steps up to beat the shit out of punters with elbow drops and years of pent up frustration.
She couldn’t beat the changing face of Bangkok so she joined it. Doesn’t mean she has to like it though.
Collective noun: A lecture of Disgruntled Locals
6) The Sickly One
Everyone has one of these poor sods in their group. The Sickly One ate a dodgy prawn on their third night on Koh Tao and spent the next 18 days sweating through an arse exorcism.
They finally re-emerged a stone and a half lighter and in search of wifi to book a flight home. They have potential kidney failure from the cocktail of incorrectly prescribed trial and error drugs and they probably have a broken toe from foot braking with flip-flops during the one attempt they made to ride a scooter.
The Sickly One ate a dodgy prawn on their third night and spent the next 18 days sweating through an arse exorcism.
The Sickly One will always be scarred by the memory of eye-rolling stomach cramps and vomiting to the point of hallucination, and will never be able to eat foreign food again.
With almost no money left, due to the no-refund scuba lessons they booked on arrival, the endless prescriptions and the £500 extortion they received for a broken headlight on the scooter they crashed, The Sickly One will be quite happy to get back to the safety of their 9 to 5 and a toilet that doesn’t require well developed thighs.
Collective noun: An explosion of Sickly Ones
7) The Lost Soul
The lost soul travels alone. He/she has been on the road for 15 years in a search for themselves but are “still searching”. They will talk to you all night about how long they have been travelling, whether Railay or Koh Lipe is more chilled out and the benefits of slack-lining.
They watched The Beach back when it first came out and have been living by it as mantra ever since. They will reminisce about how sun salutations changed their life and how you should have seen Thailand 12 years ago, before we ruined it with bar crawls, despite the fact they just met you on one.
Most are harmless but it’s just a matter of time til you meet the one who legit killed a guy…
But try pushing them to talk about life before they hit the trail and they will sheepishly shut up shop and stare into the middle distance. The Lost Soul’s constant smile and huge personality is an obvious front for someone who has run away from something.
Most lost souls are completely harmless but, surely, it’s just a matter of time until you meet the one who legit killed a guy or two.
Collective noun: A murder of lost souls.
8) The Sexpat
Nobody wants to be in the Sexpat’s gang, despite them adopting it as their anthem. The Sexpat takes full advantage of Thailand’s loose law enforcement and blind eye to sex tourism.
They can be found congregating in the seedy haunts of Phuket and Patpong, sitting with young prostitutes and silently hating each other for reminding them of themselves. At best, their conversation is a quiet discussion of the price of a slave.
They sit with young prostitutes and silently hate each other for reminding them of themselves.
At worst, they openly brag about their salacious and slimy deeds. They come from all over the world but there seems to be a surprising amount of them from the North of England.
Ah Thailand: One of the only places in the world where blokes from Blackpool can bemoan the extra cost for proper bacon in a fry-up and simultaneously barter to stick their mouldy oldies into a young girl’s life for less than a fiver.
Fuck you, Sexpats.
Collective noun: A Yewtree of sexpats.
9) The Possible Ladyboy
She’s been flirting with your pissed mate Gaz all night, and he’s already bought her a few drinks.
Things look to be heating up a little between them but you’re not sure Gaz has noticed the suspiciously large hands and, more importantly, suspiciously large dick.
Do you tell your mate Gaz or just let what happens happen?
A lot of people who travel Thailand find themselves in this very predicament: do you tell Gaz what you suspect or just let what happens happen?
Collective noun: A smirk of possible ladyboys.
10) The Definite Ladyboy
As above, but Gaz drove for 40 minutes on the back of a scooter to her house and found out the truth.
He was too knackered to turn back by the time he realised, so he just kipped on the couch. That’s what he says happened anyway.
Collective noun: A gasp of definite ladyboys.
11) The Fauxtographer
For the Fauxtographer, everything is a photo opportunity or a social media scam. From pictures of every meal and their receipts, to forced contemplative poses in front of sunsets, the Fauxtographer sees the world as an album of chances to show off.
Their tag and share skills are almost instantaneous and thus a steady stream of happiness sears the eyes of the jealous friends back home.
It’s impossible to talk to a person who is taking 18 photos of the same fucking coconut
It’s a shame the Fauxtographer hardly finds the time to enjoy the scenes they are desperately trying to document due to hardly ever taking their eyes off their phone.
Those that try to strike up a conversation with a Fauxtographer are wasting their time. It is almost impossible to catch the attention of a person who is taking and deleting 18 photos of the same fucking coconut until it has become too warm to even drink.
Collective noun: There isn’t one. The selfie stick has finally allowed these creatures to branch out on their own, and no-one can stand them long enough to hang around anymore.
Bonus: The Average Thai
Warm, welcoming and fun, the Thais are incredibly friendly people who maintain a long history of beauty in their tradition. Monthly festivities and an incredible pride in their hospitable country is one of the main reasons so many of the above return to Thailand year on year.
If you haven’t been, you should check it out. Just don’t be one of the shitty stereotypes above, especially the Fauxtographer. Thats the worst one. Wait… Sexpat. No, Fauxtographer was right.
Collective noun: A group of Thai people (durr)