The vice man cometh

Super Pimp casts a long shadow over Bangkok. Wherever you turn, there he is; on television, the front page of newspapers and billboards, beetroot face contorted into its trademark twisted rictus, moustache aquiver with indignation and finger jabbing at some imagined outrage, ready to launch his next blow against corruption and injustice. One can almost imagine him swooping down from out of the sun, pimp cape flapping, patrolling the phalanx of fleshpots he built then disowned, eyes peeled for fresh perps.

Every metropolis gets the superhero it deserves. For the City of Angels, a town built on graft and grease and dirt and deals, on tortuous alliances and labyrinthine loyalties, internecine squabbles, snout-in-trough sweeteners and baht pro quo back-scratching, who could be more suitable to step forward and save the day than the flawed, fabulously entertaining and crazy crusader that is Chuwit Kamolvisit?

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