Thailand Barmouth 2016 – Memoir Version My Life , My Deaths , Their plans failed

Thailand 2016 – Memoir Version

Okay, before I begin the Thailand 2016 story, let me provide a brief overview of the events leading up to it. I wasn’t completely blind going into Thailand. By then, I already knew what I knew—from 2001 through 2016—and I had lived through years of planned deaths, covert operations, and cycles of abuse across multiple countries.

I had also already spent three years caught inside the mental health system, labelled a vulnerable adult, manipulated by Gwynedd services, and used against my will. At this point, there were already three SAS links to my supposed “deaths”—all documented in my blogs.

There was The Rise Club in Koh Lak, Thailand, in 2004, and Mount Snowdon, which I climbed 20X for my birthday. There was also the vulnerable adult ring inside mental health, and continued assassination attempts—even inside hospitals. In December 2013, I was poisoned with cyanide while sectioned. That wasn’t the first attempt, and it wouldn’t be the last.

For many years after whistleblowing in August 2002, people in Barmouth wanted me out of the way. They tried to eliminate me again and again. Thailand had already been one of their chosen stages—between 2001 and 2009 I had faced multiple attempts there. By 2016, what happened was simply a continuation.

kenya 2015 and the Return to Barmouth ( Before going there , not planned trip) 

By 2016, I was already significant in the eyes of those who followed me. If you’ve read my Kenya 2015 blog, you’ll recall that at Mombasa Airport, I had a “Thai surprise” waiting for me upstairs after dealing with spy issues and police harassment at the airport station including all else in Kenya prior. 

So yes, I knew exactly what I was walking into in 2016.

After Kenya, I returned to Barmouth. But I thought to myself: Forget this. I’m going to Northern Iraq and Syria to take up arms against ISIS. I had had enough of dealing with idiots back at home and wanted to be in control of my own death. I did all and was doing all for 1 pence UK ended up for 5 thai baht as well. 

I even tattooed myself after returning from Kenya (May–July 2015). But then my own brother betrayed me—grassed me up. Twice in July, I got sectioned. I thought: Sod this. I’m going back out to Egypt. At the time, I had no plan to return to Thailand.

Still, it’s important to connect those events in Barmouth to what came next. While I was getting tattooed, significant things occurred. Sean F. from Egypt—an individual linked to the Thai mafia and connected to Muslim groups—appeared in town. He walked past my mother’s shop and the tattoo shop, turned his head deliberately to the left, took a single photograph of a building, then walked off. The Thai Mafia guy not Sean. 

That alone told me everything: Barmouth was feeding into Thailand again.

Sean had been part of Egypt 2014—see my South Sinai blog.

The Mental Health Trap

Meanwhile, I was going through cycles of all-out mental torture in Gwynedd. At Hergest (Bangor), they would interrogate me, twisting my words into fabricated reports, writing what they wanted, not what actually happened.

Twice in 2015, I was sectioned after Kenya. Eventually, I moved into Flat 5, Paris House, Machynlleth, trying to rebuild my life after the chaos of Hergest.

Even inside the tattoo shop, the symbolism was heavy. A webcam displayed Christ the Redeemer on the screen. A red dagger tattooed on my right side. John, the tattooist, asked me: “Do you want to keep your arms?” I smirked and said: “Yeah, they’re mine. I’ll be keeping them.”

John was good at his craft, though I didn’t like what he did to my daughter’s tattoo. Still, I held my tongue. Outside forces were moving, and I couldn’t afford distractions.

That Rio-Brazil screen was probably connected to the £55 million drug frame-up. I never knew exactly who instigated it—but they all aimed it at me.

So once again, the people I travelled with, and those around me in Barmouth, had aligned with the very same family and abusers I had exposed in social care.

If they weren’t trying to set me up for weed, they were planning to murder me abroad, making it look like a “misadventure death”—a choke on vomit, a drugging, a fake overdose, or a trap with women.

Egypt to Thailand

From Powys, I went to Egypt in September or October 2015. At Seven Heaven, I was safe enough, but life there grew boring. Unless you were diving, there was little to occupy you.

By January 8, 2016, after travelling across Egypt—Luxor, Aswan, Abu Simbel, Cairo, and Dahab—I flew from Luxor to Cairo, then onto Bangkok.

I stayed with Bow and his family. But I was wary. Historical events followed me: “Choke night,” attempted deaths, my first visits in 2004 December and the betrayals in 2009 through Achara and Nick. Back then, Achara had asked me: “Hey Bobby, what part of Thailand do you want to Die in?” Even then, I sensed manipulation.

By 2016, I knew the traits of killers. They were sneaky, obsessed with trophies, items, and possessions. I didn’t tell Bow’s family that I understood what was happening—I needed to test them. Could they be trusted, or were they part of the same machinery fed by Barmouth?

January 2016: Signs and Intruders

Around January 14, 2016, I noticed a blue flannel in a tree—a personal symbol, significant to me. Blue is one of my favourite colours, and it matched the SAS silver-and-blue background. A subtle message.Probably represents pedo ring colour Gwynedd etc and elsewhere trust i know just not saying what , yeah !

I went to Koh Samui briefly, visiting Silver Beach. No issues there, though in previous years that same place had been linked to plots against me.

By February, the deaths were on again.

One night at Bow’s home, my heart rate spiked to 243 beats per minute. My breathing grew shallow, narrower, less oxygen with each gasp. Calmly, I accepted what was happening. I whispered to God, asking Jesus for help: Come on God, where are you? He arrived. My breath returned.

Another night, an assassin dressed in all silver flanked me from the left side, sneaking in with perfect concealment. Ten out of ten for camouflage—but I still picked him off. When he reached the centre, I stepped forward, broke his element of surprise, picked up a stone, and threw it. “Sawadee kap,” I said. Then I walked calmly back to the house.

Inside, I told them an intruder had been outside. That night, I was locked in—not as a prisoner, but as protection. Bow’s nephew sat with stacks of swords and a bow, watching over me as though I were sleeping.

Hospitals and Setups

Later, they took me to a local hospital in Kanchanadid—Bow’s nephew worked there. They placed me on a bed, hooked me up to a machine—but it wasn’t switched on.

A military officer was at the desk, probably asking questions about me. Bow’s nephew leaned over and said: “We are having a meeting here next month. How do you feel now?”

I recognised it immediately. The question wasn’t medical. It was about whether I would accept my death or move on.

I moved on.

Krabi, Ao Nang, and the Knife

I went to Krabi. I stayed with Mo, a climber in Ao Nang. One of his employees was from Had Yao, the same area tied to “Choke,” the attempt on my life years earlier.December 2004 Death Night. 

I tried to live quietly. A Thai landlord, later, admitted she used to do bad things but had since turned to God. Even then, suspicion surrounded me—walkie-talkies, hostile faces, coded movements.

One day, pressure consumed me. I took a five-inch blade and drove it into my throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, soaking my walls and bed. My apartment was drenched.

5 inch penetration exactly 

Still alive, I got taken to  to Krabi International Hospital. There, the predators gathered. Nurses swarmed me. A random nurse shoved a blood syringe into my arm. I thought: This is it—they’re going to kill me.

I was tied to a bed, wetting myself for days. Eventually, I freed myself. I smoked cigarettes, bought myself time. Then they transferred me to a psychiatric hospital.

Within seconds of arriving, an inmate approached me, implying sexual assault. A knife appeared, slipped into the cage. They wanted to stage my death—as if another inmate stabbed me. I kicked off instantly. Staff moved me before it could happen.

I ended up locked in a cage with other inmates. One shower, one shared space. Some covered in burns, others broken by life. Still, I got on with them.

Family Betrayals

Two weeks later, my mother and sister arrived.

But instead of support, I saw betrayal.

My sister stood in a hallway, confronted by a Thai woman with a pink string cord—signalling violence. My sister said “No, no, no” three times. But I knew it wasn’t her in danger. It was me.

Inside, my mother held up keys: “Oh look, I’ve got these keys.” The same line I had heard before, back in Colwyn Bay, when a man said he had my locker keys (See Blog Colwyn Bay my work 2012) .

She dropped £100 on the floor, said she had “found it,” and handed it to me. Then she asked if I wanted to call Thai Bob, who had arranged their hotel.

Later, they sent me to a travel agent across the street to book my flight home. Even more damning, they suggested a trip to Had Yao—the exact place tied to my previous “death night” by choking.

It was obvious: my family were in on it too.

Returning Home

I flew back. My family promised to meet me at the airport. They didn’t.

Back in Machynlleth in May 2016, I found horror in my flat. Three ecstasy tablets on the floor. My daughter’s Father’s Day card ripped up. Mental health notes missing. My army watch box filled with pubic hair shavings.

I documented everything with MI6.

I even went to an ironmonger to buy a hoover. There, I met an ex-care staff member I hadn’t seen in years. I said hello. He replied: “You’re a mug, mate.” Buy one,  i sell them ha 555. 

Reflection

That was Thailand 2016.

My life, my planned deaths, my betrayals—across Barmouth, Gwynedd, Thailand, Egypt, Kenya. Every attempt failed and the uk many countries involved in my deaths but this is specifically Thailand. 

From 2001 to 2016, I lived through all-out hell. Covert assassinations, hospital setups, betrayals from family.

But I lived.

From 2016 to 2025, I have been tested, repeatedly. My blood, my health, my body. All clear. No infections. No poisons.

Nine more  years of hell. But still alive.

That’s my truth. That’s why I sought asylum in France. That’s why I continue to write.

Thailand  / Barmouth 2001- 2016 – My Life, My Deaths, Their Plans Failed.

People predate and murder successful people be on your guard this goes on around the world .Jealousy , its a game to them. Seen it all full details critical details not given to graphic . Friends , colleagues smile at you but have other plans always watch for this.