Sa wat dee

In R v Brown (1993), the House of Lords imposed criminal sanctions on certain sincerely consenting sexual acts between adults. An illiberal milestone. The court of ultimate error decided that the acts constituted violence and not were not solely within the sexual field; and it added that if actual bodily harm was inflicted deliberately, consent was no defence. The fact that the acts were homosexual may not have been irrelevant to their Lordships' distaste. The acts were certainly eye-watering: pouring hot wax down the urethra and nailing one's member to the table are the two that I remember, indeed cannot forget.

Given the choice between the acts of R v Brown and the trip I have just finished, I would choose the trip. But only just. The first leg, to Bahrain, was fine, the second leg rendered dreadful by a pair of sociopathic Frenchmen. I have now been awake for 25 hours and have yet to check into my room. The taxi driver spotted me as a basket case, didn't switch the metre on and made up an outrageous price.

While waiting for the room to become ready I wandered round MBK, which is great. (I only just resisted the urge to buy a new camera, knowing that I am at the moment incapable of rational thought.) I may spend the week there. Food is sold on every floor of the emporium. For breakfast I had some crispy pork with rice for 60p. (In my disassociated state I automatically added chilli sauce and chillies, which was unwise.) Which is just as well, because I can't get any money out of the ATMs.

But it's great to be here, after weeks of hassle. The culture shock is less than I got in Naples. So far.

This afternoon will hold a trip back to MBK to see Jumper, more grazing, and then a very early night.