My Friend Costa The Rosta
Yes, he’s up to all his usual tricks here in Pattaya, and many more into the bargain. Last night he stood up a group of friends, some of very long standing, for a whore he said he met all of a sudden. Whether that’s a tall story is immaterial. He searched for excuses not to meet up and found them. To add insult to injury he never ‘phoned to say he wasn’t coming.
Now, while being used to unreliable Pattaya punters, his is bewildering behaviour towards friends UNLESS he’s jealous, resentful and in denial. Which he probably is. Add the fact that the meeting was in Walking Street where he might have had to spend the odd few baht more. Add the fact that he couldn’t drive for fear of being breathalysed, and his motives may become clearer. But at the end of the day who can explain Costa The Rosta? Possibly those friends who never want to see him again? The ones who have left friendship behind after quarrelling too much? I cling on in there because it’s not worth the effort to exit, and he provides me with laughs by the week and thoughts like the ones here by the minute.
My son offered to pay his motorbike-taxi over to Walking Street to motivate him to come. (However, once he turned up maybe we would have taken it for granted that he would not stoop to asking for taxibike fare.) Costa The Rosta (And Hustler), wily old fox that he is, didn’t come so even if we’d wanted to have a laugh on him, he did us out of that pleasure.
Costa remains to this day the super hero and antihero of “Great Tits I’ve Known and Other Species”, creating his fictions by the hour. Should he fly away with a squawk I’d be happy and sad simultaneously. In two hours’ time I’ll meet the hustler and listen to him burbling his copious excuses. The entertainment awaits me. He is going out on a regular basis with his best friend at the moment, a Scottish kangaroo who resides in Australia and doesn’t wear a kilt and if that friend will contact me and explain Rosta The Costa, I will be happy. Only problem is he won’t. He dislikes me for writing about the guys and gals I meet here in Fun City, Pattaya.
Shame, i’n’t it?