Among the various businesses we own we have a karaoke restaurant about 10 miles outside Chiang Mai. Earlier tonight, about 4 hours ago, a van pulled up outside and disgorged a knot of policeman and a sweaty man in a suit. They charged into the restaurant screaming about karaoke licenses and copyright violations. Mr Suit handed over a wad of damp photocopies which he claimed were his authorisations as a copyright control nark.
OK, we thought we'd deal with this calmly. He wants to see our licenses, we show him the licenses. He wants to see the song-lists on the computers, no problem. He points to some random song and says this publisher, RS, isn't covered by our licenses. I toddle off to the back and come back with the handy list of music publishers we got from the license provider. There it is, in English and Thai, RS Records, all covered by the licenses.
We ask him which police station he's come from, he says Pa Haa, Chiang Mai Provincial Police HQ. We phone them up. They've never heard of the guy. We then ask the cops where they've come from, they shuffle around awkwardly for a while and eventually mutter something about Sankhampaeng Police Station. By this point Mr Sweaty has become considerably more sweaty as he realises that this isn't quite going the way he expected. Our staff are, of course, mildly panicked by the presence of these so-called officials. I try to calm them a little by telling them to use their mobiles to photograph Suit and his henchmen. this keeps the staff amused but doesn't go down too well with the boys in brown. Still, nothing they can do to stop it.
Suit then, of course, falls back on the tried and trusted Thai technique of asserting his authority by screaming at everyone in sight. He starts railing at the cops, telling them to load the computers into the van, take the PA equipment, and arrest the manager. At this point my wife, all 4 foot 11 of her, finally decides she's had enough. She hates gangster cops with a passion and is not shy about letting them know. She launched into one of the finest tirades I've ever heard.
She cursed Sweaty and the cops, at top volume and in fine, lucid Thai, seven ways from Sunday, described their ancestry in lurid detail, lectured them on how corruption was the curse of Thailand and how they should be ashamed of themselves, threatened them with Army Generals, Police nabobs, Lawyers, Redshirts, and Judges. She sneered at their photocopies, told them that if they actually had a case they should have original copies of all their bumf and not some manky and wrinkled pieces of old, damp paper, called them liars, thieves, and gangsters, and told them to get the hell off our property right now!
They turned tail and ran, piled back into the van and screeched off down the road in a haze of exhaust fumes and dust.
They may be back, maybe not. Right now I don't know, talking to other people who've been raided like that the general experience seems to be that if you don't fall for their scam right away they don't bother coming back. I hope that's true. Either way, seeing Mr Loudmouth Pu Yai and his band of country cops deflate as my missus verbally flayed them was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my time in Chiang Mai