"Full moon ... half moon ... no moon"

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Imagine the serenity and calm of a hot day in a public park. Maybe there is champagne, beers, laughter, small pork pies, pre-packaged gourmet cheeses and mirth but overall a feeling of utter relaxation. Now, multiply that feeling to the power of 16, take away the smack-heads on the benches, replace the grass with pure white sand, increase the heat to a ridiculous level, add miles of palm trees and a potent combination of drinks in a plastic bucket … you’re somewhere close to Thailand! After I flew via Singapore to Bangkok, I caught a bus and a high speed catamaran to the island of Koh Phangan for the infamous Full Moon party. I met a couple of Australians and we got ripped-off on some accommodation. We spent the first night drinking copious amounts of Singha beer (for god’s sake don’t move on to the Chang. It’s awful. I mean really bad. It’s so bad I can imagine that Nick, Bevan et al would rather not drink beer than sup on that foul devil-nectar.) before moving on to a bizarre tiny beach bar with a lady-boy that liked to scratch (not me). S/he was fairly convincing in the dark but we spotted her in the morning and the back was a definite give-away. After a day of walking, Thai massage and some bad fish we headed to the full moon party. Nothing really comes close. It’s not necessary the best quality party, but certainly the biggest… 10,000 drunken idiots dancing to various types of dance music with names like Happy Hardcore, Jungle-Tops, Trance, Basement, Old-School flip-flop and Garage. It was just a noise. Koh Phagnan must have the world’s highest concentration of UV neon paints per square yard. And it gets everywhere. There were fire dancers too.

Essential to any party in Thailand is the ubiquitous bucket. One whole bottle of Sansong (potent Thai rum), a can of Sprite or Coke, a medicinal sized bottle of grade-a amphetamine-filled Thai Red Bull and pour it all over some dodgy ice in a child’s sand bucket. I’ll tell you now – too many of those and you’ll be dancing like a prick, fall asleep on the sand at 7am, waking up at 9am, swimming in the sea fully-clothed (the sea of course a makeshift toilet but 2 hours before for thousands of people) and then eating a giant full-English breakfast and a tuna baguette. Not that I did that of course, but it’s just a warning. We checked out of our bungalows and moved to THE place to stay; Ibiza bungalows on Had Yao beach. An entire bungalow costs less than 3 quid a night (with 2 beds so it can be half that per person) and the entire place appears to be run by a 15 year old Thai midget-boy called Chai. That place is one of the reasons I didn’t leave the island for 12 days! I met some great people and eat and drank too much. Ibiza had it’s own Lady-dog – a transsexual canine called Shirley who minced her way under the tables. The 12 days of Koh Phagnan included snorkeling through some slightly cloudy water but with very impressive coral, lots of sun-bathing and a scooter. The nearest ‘town’ is Thong Sala and it’s a good 20 km away, so we would visit there at least once a day. On one outing, we drove up to a beautiful Chinese temple at the top of a mountain. Kerry (a girl with ideas for a sitcom based on seagulls) was on the back of my bike, and we were negotiating the pot holes with varying degrees of success. We turned a corner and I had to slam on the breaks… there was a bloody elephant crossing the road! A week before and after the Full Moon shenanigans, a far more interesting event; The Half Moon Party... lots of drinking but only 2000 people in a remote jungle location. That party was wicked. I managed to get hold of a flaming bottle, which I swirled around my head like some kind of hedonistic arsonist. It was taken off me. Other highlights included a drunken French man who launched himself off a wall on to a massive speaker. He came crashing down with the speaker in tow, hitting another man on the back of the head. At about 9am as the sun began to appear through the trees, they turned on sprinklers. You can’t imagine how much that was needed… it was so god damn hot (‘…milk was a bad choice’ for fans of Anchorman) and sweaty that there really was nothing better than to writhe in recycled water.

S/he was fairly convincing in the dark but we spotted her in the morning and the back was a definite give-away.

After a heavy night on the sauce, what better cure is there than a full English breakfast? There isn't one, and the place to get said cure is Vantana's in Thong Sala. The breakfast may be expensive but my God, it's worth it!

Koh Phagnan is an awesome island. I challenge anyone to go there and NOT enjoy themselves! If you don't want to party you can happily (and silently) fall asleep on the beach, but if you want to party and shake your grove thang, then it's most definitely a great place to do it!