I was last in London Calling just after it opened and hadn’t returned until last night for one reason and one reason only. I don’t drink in bars with mixed line-ups.
I can’t remember exactly when they went from all ladies to adding a contingent of cocks in frocks to their line-up but I swerve all go-go bars that don’t deal in the “real thing”, however, last night I was outvoted and so there I was in London Calling for what I’ll now call my annual visit.
We grabbed a seat and ordered some San Miguel’s and true to form Budget Bobby lifts the bill to check the prices before a spot of beer passes his lips. I almost had to dial 911 for an ambulance as it looked like a heart attack was imminent when he seen the 185 baht price tag. He only recovered when he realised it might be one of the 2-metre-tall ladboys on stage that might give him mouth-to-mouth CPR.
Even if they hadn’t been takin’ the piss for piss we’d have been leaving anyway. Stroppy strumpets storming off when I wouldn’t buy her ugly ass a drink isn’t my idea of fun nor is having chrome pole crumpet you can’t barfine.
In a nutshell, London Calling has the most expensive San Miguel in the Plaza, grumpy dancers, coyotes who don’t do the horizontal mambo and sour-faced service staff. All reasons enough not to return for another year and that’s without the sluts with nuts in the line-up problem.
The Plaza has far too many fun bars like Bunnies, Billboard, Spanky’s etc that I’m happy to spend my hard earned in and that is exactly what the six of us did last night. Left and went to the third floor for a party with some barfinable babes.