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The cripples of corruption stand upright in Cambodia. After renting a scooter from one of the guesthouses in the southern backwater town of Sihanoukville in Cambodia, no questions asked as to whether I have any form of international driving license, be it a legitimate shard of paper from the UK or one of the $5 fakes to be bought in Bangkok, I headed off through the bedlum of the town to see what this place had to offer.
Travelling down one of the streets there was the greeting of four cops leaning against their scooters. The mistake was simple, after being waved down, I stopped.
The way to get past any fine or bullshit tale spouting from the bored creased lips of an Asian cop comes in two ways. The easiest is to keep on driving. Most of the cunts are too lazy to chase you as they will just wait for the next westerner to niavely pass on by and stop. If they do give chase this is the part where you can really fuck them up. Go faster and careen madly across the road from one lane to the other. Only pull up when it seems the cop is too tired to keep going or looks truly like he wants to rip out your teeth which is where the fucked up, hedonistic fun can begin. Any story will do at this point. Most are only after a quick buck, the idea of fucking you over and taking you to the police station to write up the paperwork is too much hassle, he'd rather lean against his bike smoking a camel-shit Marlboro Red.
I made the mistake of the second option and stopped. It seemed the first problem was I stopped a metre too far from his liking so I was pulled back to his space. His three stooges leant against their bikes eyeing up any potential misdemeanor on the bikes facade. It was a brand new bike that I'd hired so there was not much happening to impress him here.
"Take out keys'", no eye contact, just a lazy glance at the front wheel. This is where one of the stooges decided his legs worked so he slowly walked over, starting to knock and tap each part of the bike.
"Good evening officer", it was 2pm but this went over his head."
"What seems to be the problem?" Nonchalance and a smile goes a long way.
The cop pulled a scruffy piece of paper from his pocket and told me to read it. I leant against my bike and read a letter from the Governer of Sihanoukville stating that all foreigners must have a valid license, the letter ended with 'Please enjoy your stay'.
Smiling, I handed it back.
"Where you from?"
This is a vague question. If I answered The Democratic republic of Congo, or Wisconsin, it would be irrelevant. England is always a good option, as it's inevitable that fucking Beckham will be mentioned at some point, which creates a good footing for a valued and ammicable relationship between the fucker and the fucked.
"I could take your bike, maybe one day, one week, one month get back".
This is an invite to any decent and condascending in attitude westerner, to simply answer ''Fuck it...the bikes not mine and I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. Do what the fuck you like with the bike''. But thinking that I was fucking miles away from my room, this was not an alternative.
''Look, I am working in Cambodia for the UK organisation Two Wheeled Automotive Testing, better known as TWAT, are you familiar with this description, it seems most likely and inevitable that you should be?''
''Liverpool good team''.
Nothing much gained, nothing much lost with this comment, but the potential for further fun was too tempting.
''See I am travelling around Asia renting $5 scooters to see if they are road worthy and I am assigned to speed past cops so as to be stopped, solely with the intention to see how much is demanded on the spot from country to country. At the moment you are the first so I am eager to get this over with.''
''I need gas from you".
Nothing much wrong with this, but the price of gasoline is in a stae of flux, so let's agree on a figure. I delve into my pocket and pull out an English Queen's head, the respectable figure of 20 quid. This throws the fucker.
''It's good in Liverpool''.
''Need US dollar''.
The other stooges now have all decided to lean on the bike, sucking on a Marlboro each until this dumb arse, babbling westerner pulls out an ex-President.
''I am happy to report that you will be acclaimed highly on the international TWAT list, for this I will like to reward your services and courteous attitude with a five dollar bill. In return I ask that you leave the bike alone so I can resume with my TWAT testing."
Vacant looks are always welcome when dealing with cops, but the vacancy in each of the stooges eyes lit up when a $5 bill appeared.
Situation over and I was happily told to go on my way, and told that if I carry on for five kilometres in the fucking direction I was first going, I will reach one of the tourist delights of Sihanoukville, some waterfall which in the dry season suggests a trickle over a few rocks and mountains of polystyrene food trays.
''Have good day".
The moral of the experience, fucked if I know.
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Kit Johnson
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Good to hear from you and how things are going. You've got a knack of creating images with words, and photos of course. Can I ask the horridly cliched traveller's question: how much longer are you travelling for? Kit