"The easiest people to work with these days are the Brits. The reason for this is that they hold a good quality passport and the type of Brit I use will take the shittiest work for the lowest pay. For me a Brit has several natural advantages over any other type of nationality; Brits can say Roland, that's my name, but a lot of people around here can't pronounce it properly. Brits speak English, the lingua franca in most airports around the world. Most of them are literate and numerate and capable of understanding my instructions. They're usually skint. They're violent, drunk and antisocial by turns even amongst themselves. They all think they're James Bond and they rarely talk to other nationalities unless they've been properly introduced. That or they're asking some hapless Kraut the time as a prelude to pushing a glass into his face. The biggest advantage that this variety of Brit has is that I'm one."

- Roland, Loader

"I'm in shock. I've never seen a headless corpse before. I really needed this drink: Thai whisky, Mekong. It's not my first today but the motorbike boy back there has whetted my appetite, kind of given me my second wind. I don't really know any of the guys I'm with, apart from Gus. Gus is a pasty-faced English guy of about twenty-two that I met on the plane out of London the night before last. I couldn't sleep on the plane and I haven't slept since we landed in Bangkok. We hit the red lights of Pat Pong as soon as we dumped the bags. My head's clear enough now though; adrenalin does that. Twelve noon and we've been drinking all night. It's crazy, I just can't sleep, jet lagged I reckon.

"Gus and I are having a drink with two blokes we met in the coffee shop of the Paradise Hotel. They like a drink and I must admit it's good to hear British voices in a place like this. There's Roland, he's the bossman, a baby-faced blond guy of about thirty from north London. His wingman's a hard looking Jock, a smackhead, with gold framed glasses and a sinister manner. It's like everything he says has a threat in there somewhere. Everybody around here calls the Jock ‘Terminator'.

"Roland reckons he can fix me and Gus up with some work. That's what I need right now. I only had about three hundred quid left after paying for my air ticket. I've got even less now. Me and Gus are in the same boat. Both of us are out here for as long as the money lasts. He's a bit better off than me though. He told me he blagged a jewellery shop in Blighty just before he got on the plane and he reckons he's still got most of the dosh. I'm not bothered about blokes who have done the odd blag. I've done time myself so I see no reason to worry about a geezer who's got away with a job. All power to the bastard I say, especially if he'll sub me a few quid now and then. I think he needs the company. I know I do. This city's a fucking monster. It's going to take some time to find my way around"

- Herby, Mule

"This place was the first bar that I danced in. It was the mama san in this bar who gave me the name ‘Sa' which of course is not my real name. The first ‘farang', that is, Western client I ever slept with, paid the bar fine for me in this bar. I'm glad I don't work in here anymore.

"My own reason for living is to try and help my little sister, Keow. I cannot allow her to be sold into this horrible slavery. She is twelve years old and lives with my mother and step-father in our village. I am scared for her. I think that my step-father plans to sell her soon."

"It's lucky for me that Roland wants me to sleep with Kim.

"'Sa, beautiful lady, Kim is my friend. Be nice to him and I'll give you fifty dollars.' he said.

"That's good money. I needed that money. I used half for myself and I put half in the bank. I have some gold and jewellery worth one hundred and fifty dollars and with the twenty five dollars I saved I have two hundred dollars in the bank. I will never touch that money unless my sister needs it. The really good thing about Roland asking me to sleep with Kim has nothing to do with the money though. The thing is that Kim may be able to help me help my sister, I don't know yet. As for Roland he doesn't know about my sister, he doesn't know anything about my family. I don't trust him.

- Sa, Hooker

"I lean my elbows briefly on the edge of the writing desk and allow my eyes to rest blank and unfocused on the illuminated computer screen in front of me. Despite my tiredness I rub the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger, replace my spectacles, and peer back in earnest at the screen and the final draft of this latest article. I'm going to read it through one last time tonight. It's got to go first thing in the morning."

People of the Mountains, Kim Larsen, Mae Sai

"At first light I awoke in the headman's house, my mind still spinning from the long journey I had undertaken to get to this remote mountain top, some fifty kilometres from the golden triangle town of Mae Sai at the northern most tip of Thailand. Through the bamboo walls of the house I glimpsed a herd of cattle, wooden bells clanking, being driven along the path outside the house to grassier lowland pastures. In the early light of dawn I could hear the people of the village calling to each other; ‘Jaw sa doe me-ah lo' in English ‘Hello, how are you.'

"The pigs, who make their home under the stilted bamboo house, grunted noncommittally, snuffling at the fresh morning air. From all around came the alarmingly punctual crowing of roosters, a sound accompanied by the twittering of chicks following their dirt scratching mothers around the village.

"In a neighbouring corral I could see a woman standing quite still, framed against her bamboo and thatch roofed dwelling. Descending the three steps of my host's house I walked closer to the hilltribe woman. In her right hand she clutched a long pole and, as I watched, she turned her face up to the sky and uttered an ululation the like of which must have been drifting over these mountains for centuries. Her head was draped in black cloth with colourful embroidery around the edges. Several decorative silver coins, probably silver Indian dollars, hung across her forehead; a sign that she is married. Her richly embroidered black blouse and skirt matched the unusual shinpads that all Akha women wear, presumably so that they can walk through the forest without scratching their legs in the spiky undergrowth and as protection against snakes. Her resemblance to a female warrior guiding her troops into battle was uncanny. Her piercing call rolled through the trees and over the misty mountains. She was calling her herd of wandering pigs to breakfast."

- Kim, Journalist