“And you must be careful of the monkeys. They will sit on the inside of the corners and throw their faeces at you.”

Dear Mr George,

My name is Pranpriya and Mr Dall’Igna has asked me to assist you over the weekend.

He has told me to tell you that this does not mean I will bring you ivory, rub your feet, or pour warm butter onto your Mamba. He was very insistent about there being no warm butter pouring.

I am also to leave the room when you start yelling at Mr Jesus and throwing things, and if you try to put a hand on me my seven brothers will shatter your bones with steel poles.

Other than that, I am here to make sure your time in Thailand is a happy time.

So firstly, you are not in China, OK? I know it looks like you are, but you’re not. You’re in Thailand.

Thailand has a king, just like Spain. China does not have a king…well, not really. At least he’s not called a king, but he does organise tank parades, jousting competitions and boar-hunts.

Anyway, none of that matters. What matters is the Buriram track is unknown to everyone. I think they only put bitumen on it last week so some of the corners may be a bit skatey and I understand Mr Crutchlow will crash on all of them.

And you must be careful of the monkeys. They will sit on the inside of the corners and throw their faeces at you. Do not be alarmed. They will throw their faeces at everyone except Mr Valentino, because he is like their king.

I must also tell you that must not go to Bangkok. Mr Marc has been riding around there and it has made a lot of people excited. The lady-boys all wish to give him a make-over and the surgeons are lining up to create a beautiful new vagina for him.

Here is Mr Marc exciting the local people.

It is possible that if you go to Bangkok, they will mistake you for Mr Marc, and you will have smoky-eye make-up, lipstick, and a beautiful new vagina before you can say “อวัยวะเพศของฉันใหญ่มาก!”. Do not ask me how I know this will happen.

So no Bangkok for you, Mr George. Instead, I think you should stay in your room, order room service, put your red earphones on your head and listen to inspirational music. I can recommend Slipknot and Dying Fetus. I often dance to them in my underpants while my mother claps along.

I will come and see you before the race on Sunday to see if there is anything else you might need. If I have time, I will make a nice Pad Thai for you to give you strength for the race.

Please do not try and put money in my underpants, OK?

Laew Phop Kan Mai Na Krab,

Pranpriya.

About the Author

Boris is a writer who has contributed to many magazines and websites over the years, edited a couple of those things as well, and written a few books. But his most important contribution is pissing people off. He feels this is his calling in life and something he takes seriously. He also enjoys whiskey, whisky and the way girls dance on tables. And riding motorcycles. He's pretty keen on that, too.