One Night in Bangkok

As dawn breaks over Thailand, I regret to say that nothing terribly amusing has happened yet. There is, of course, the usual level of disruption to Bangkok that goes with hosting one of these big global conferences. Ordinary people aren’t allowed to use the main roads, or go near the centre of the city. Everywhere, the secret service of 22 nations eye passersby with suspicion.

The protests have been shunted away from anywhere where they could possibly be visible to the visiting dignitaries. Bangkok’s legion of homeless people have become invisible, though no-one seems entirely sure where they’ve gone. One suggestion is that they’ve been sent to the pound along with all the stray dogs that were rounded up in an epic effort in the week before.

Having international meetings is great fun for our leaders, but I’m glad my city is too uncool to ever host anything like that. When Pootie-Poot invited the leaders of the world to the 300th anniversary of St Petersburg, the city became unrecognisable to its residents. Manhole covers were sealed, all weapons were confiscated, and locals were forced to allow snipers to use their bedrooms as bases.

Evian had it worse when it hosted the G8 summit. A 15 kilometre exclusion zone was set up about the city, causing untold annoyance to anyone within. Protesters massed instead upon Geneva, and a three day rolling riot left 16 million euros of damage.

Ah, sweet unimportant Norwich.

Pity then the good people of Bangkok, who I’m sure can’t wait to be rid of these troublesome and turbulent foreigners, as they awake to another day under siege.

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