To a small shop near the British Embassy which does a brisk trade in passport photographs at 320 baht a time. The rules are very clear: no smiling, no grimacing and no parrots on your shoulder; which makes for a very boring photo which will humiliate me for the next ten years.
With forms and photos complete, I present myself at the embassy entrance where they proceed to relieve me of my phone and camera. The guy in front of me is relieved of what appears to be an anal vibrator, not entirely clear what he intended to do with it in the embassy, although some amusing options come to mind. After a body check by a man who seems to enjoy his job more than he should, I am let inside.
The consular section is a small room which bears a sign advising all who enter that anyone who causes a scene by shouting, tearing down the ceiling tiles or frightening children by waving an anal vibrator will be ejected by the police with extreme prejudice. The need for such a sign is a clear indication that mayhem has occurred in the past and I am sure that all of those waiting to be served are hoping that it may happen again real soon for the purposes of our entertainment. Sadly, this is not the case, although an old chap with a loud voice spends fifteen minutes detailing every aspect of his financial income to a bewildered clerk behind the counter. Much of it stems from income from stocks which are held for him by his mummy, which elicits a couple of sniggers from the captive audience.
Finally, my number comes up and I am served by a very friendly and efficient lady who promises me that my new passport will be on the way to me in three weeks. I tell her that, if it isn’t, I will be back with my anal vibrator to remove the ceiling tiles. Actually, I don’t say that, but she can see the threat in my eyes.