The scene: A suite in the Pullman Hotel one evening last week.  An MP is being escorted to his room for the night.

‘Get you filthy hands off me.  I’ve got some important business to attend to.’

‘Yes, sir.  We know, sir.  And Mr Newin says you can attend to it just as soon as you’ve voted tomorrow morning.’

‘You can’t lock me up like this.  I’m an MP for heaven’s sake.  I know my ri-’ 

The door is slammed, followed by the sound of a key being turned and locks being bolted.  The MP, who we shall, out of respect for the honour of Parliament, refer to simply as Dam, starts rattling the door handle.  A voice calls to him from the sitting room of the rather palatial suite.

‘You’re wasting your time, Dam.’

‘Moo?  What are you doing here?’

‘It’s a two-bedroom suite.  I’m locked up just like you.’

It should be explained that Moo, like Dam, is an MP from the northeast.  Based on their proven expertise in managing resource extraction businesses (they both made their piles from gravel-hauling), they entered national political life with whichever party made them the best offer. 

Sniffing a good thing, they joined the Thai Rak Thai from its inception, loyally transferred their allegiance to the People Power Party when TRT was dissolved by court order, and then onto Phuea Thai when PPP was in turn disbanded.  They have now joined a breakaway faction that should be called Phuea Tua Eng, but somehow isn’t.

They are having second thoughts about this move now that the bag lady with ginormous bags has come back to town with seductive offers of largesse.

‘Have they taken your mobile away, too?  It’s an outrage.  I’ll be on to the National Human Rights Commission in the morning.  Violation of my right to a mobile phone.’

‘Lots of luck.’

‘Ah-ha!  What about the house phone?’

Dam picks up the receiver and starts dialling.  A pre-recorded message plays in his ear:

‘Normal telephone services have been suspended.  In the event of an emergency, please press 9, and your call will be transferred to Mr Newin’s security officers who will …’

Dam slams down the receiver. 

‘And if it isn’t a real emergency, they give you one.’

‘Calm down.  We’re stuck, so just enjoy it.  There’s some hot porn on Channel 69.’

‘Is there?  Let’s see.  Oh bugger, that reminds me.  I promised to phone my lady tonight.’

‘I think they’ve taken care of that.  Your wife will already have been warned.’

‘Not the wife, the other …  This is getting frustrating in more ways than one.’

‘So how much were you offered before the snatch squad brought you in here?’

‘20 mil.  And you?’

‘25.’

‘25?  Why do you get more?  I was private parliamentary secretary to wossisname when he was deputy at interior.  Does that count for nothing?’

‘Neither of us is getting anything.  And you could have bargained for 25 easy.  30 is the real price, so I’ve heard.’

‘See, that’s it.  They always make you negotiate.  I mean, if they just put a price sticker on it, take or leave it, like in a shop, I could be sitting home now counting the lolly.  Making us sell ourselves to the highest bidder, well, it’s demeaning.  Makes me feel like a, a, …’

‘Prostitute?’

‘No, professional footballer.  So what’s this lot got on offer?’

‘Well, the Democrats have this strange idea about ministers being properly qualified and having integrity.’

‘Ha!  The wusses.  How do they expect the country to be properly managed with ideas like that?  You need ministers with strong grassroots connections, cemented by decades of vote-buying and pork-barrelling.’

‘Well, they reckon that a squeaky clean image is the way to go.  Look at Mark himself.  He’s been kept in cotton wool all his political life, not a stain on his character.’

‘Not till he had to be photographed shaking hands with our man, anyway.  Hope he counted his fingers afterwards.’

‘Anyway, unless you want to fake a heart attack in the hope of 5 mil, I think you can forget about a lump sum up front.’

‘Well, there’s always the vote of confidence, I suppose.  Hope it comes soon, my bookie’s getting a bit antsy.’

‘Think long term.  What’s 30 mil today compared with what you can slice off a couple of juicy road building contracts?  Word is our lot have got a lock on Transport.’

‘I suppose you’re right.  I know, let’s make ourselves cosy and I’ll phone for a pizza and a ….  Oh bugger it.’

 

About author:  Bangkokians with long memories may remember his irreverent column in The Nation in the 1980's. During his period of enforced silence since then, he was variously reported as participating in a 999-day meditation retreat in a hill-top monastery in Mae Hong Son (he gave up after 998 days), as the Special Rapporteur for Satire of the UN High Commission for Human Rights, and as understudy for the male lead in the long-running ‘Pussies -not the Musical' at the Neasden International Palladium (formerly Park Lane Empire). And if you believe any of those stories, you might believe his columns.