ANARCHY ON THE K.S.

On the Saturday, James arrived from the UK. Within an hour Natalie had told him she didn’t want to be with him. She didn’t want to tell him about us which is fair enough and for the next four days I tried to stay out of the way and let her deal with the situation. Numerous text messages in stolen minutes when he wasn’t watching over her all containing phrases like “excruciating being without you” flew back and forth while I sat in the Crow’s Nest drinking Singhas and watching Premiership football with the landlord. On two separate occasions during those four days I bumped into the most annoying man I’ve ever met. He described himself as a Communist Anarchist. When I pointed out that the two could not co-exist he became brilliantly shirty accusing me of being “a privileged university type” I was quick to point out that I don’t have a degree and my one-parent family bought me and three other children up on social security. Ha! When I asked which communists he cited as influences he stated the obvious Karl Marx so I asked him what he thought of his rival Mikhail Bakunin’s politics. Tee heee! Oh and by the way, what exactly is there to struggle against on Koh Samui? It amuses me to fuck with idiots heads, especially when you tell them that you are in your early twenties and all your knowledge of Thatcherite Britain is from The Specials song “Ghost Town” How I kept a straight face I do not know. The second night I saw him I had ninety seconds in the bathroom to come up with a put-down in front of the rest of the pub so on the way back passed him I asked him how the struggle was going and “how his political party “Comrades On Koh Samui was…“C.O.K.S” I declared in a very loud voice.