Day 28 – Tokyo to London

I refrained my usual last-day tradition of giving away all my old clothes to the poor street kids, as there are no poor street kids and the idea of any kid wanting to accept a five-year-old Sisters Of Mercy t-shirt is just absurd.

So that's it for another trip, Japan is fantastic, I would urge you to go or at the very least write to your local member of parliament and ask him why everything is so shit where you live. If you do go, make sure you fill your suitcase with melons which at over £100 a go will certainly have you staying in the more luxurious hotels.

My final train ride to the airport was eventful to say the least. Just after leaving central station an 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Tokyo. Amidst the chaos and confusion, the train track buckled throwing our carriage off the raised lines, through the air, and into the side of a building that was engulfed in flames. As I struggled to free myself and Ciara from the wreckage the flames and smoke began to overwhelmed me, in the next instant a thirty-metre tsunami hit the city and swept our battered carriage into Tokyo harbour and into the grip of a whirlpool. As I slowly sank into the abyss an enormous explosion of water heralded the arrival of Godzilla who snatched me from my seat and swallowed me and my laptop, hence the delay in this last post.

Did it?

No. It was pleasant, left on time and I had a nice cup of tea.

Sayonara.

Day 27 – Tokyo

I start the day with a trip to Akihabara, which is the place to be in Tokyo if you are after computers, games-consoles, phones or any other small electrical device, such as a detonator, however, I am not suggesting for one moment that the three shady-looking muslims blokes in the shop at the same time as me were after anything other than a soda-stream.

Akihabara is also home to Japanese pop phenomenon, girl-band AKB48. Forget the vomit-inducing clones that X-Factor force feed a catatonic audience every week, the Japanese (as usual) have taken it to whole new level, in the form of AKB48 who, at the last count, had 56 girls in the band – just imagine the bill for toilet roll on that tour! 

The manager – who may or may not be called Fagin – has the band (only around 12 of them at any one time) performing several times a day in their very own sweatshop – sorry theatre, to the obvious delight of the huge crowds that are always queueing outside the auditorium. 

The scary thing is that there is already a rival band (of 60-odd girls) ready to be unleashed.

The really frightening thing is that their is also a boy band on the way.

And the truly terrifying thing is that one day it will happen in London.

In the evening I inadvertently find myself in Tokyo's red-light district – I only had to take two trains, a bus and several wrong turns to inadvertently get there. Whilst admiring the faux-Englsih names of the various ladies of the night (Rabbit Bar, Bar Honey being amongst the more obvious), my attention was drawn to a sign featuring the obligatory scantily-clad Asian girl lounging over the lettering of the quite superbly named Bar Keith. Perhaps Keith was from Thailand.

Day 26 – Kyoto to Tokyo

My hotel in Kyoto seems to have been invaded by middle-aged English Daily Mail readers, consequently all talk over breakfast is of the sushi muck on offer and the lack of toast.

My Japan Rail Pass expires today so it's a train ride back to Toyko to start the day. After checking into my hotel I visit the Ghibli Animation Museum which sounds a lot easier than it actually was. Tickets are not available where you would expect, i.e. at the museum door, but have to be purchased in advance from a machine, which can be found in specific shops, the machine only displays Japanese characters so just getting them is a mission that John Rambo would be loathe to take on. Having found the shop, the machine, navigated a dozen Japanese screens you are then given an option of only four time slots a day to visit – miss your time slot and you are not allowed in. To get to the Museum from central Tokyo requires two trains and a bus journey.

The museum itself is great, provided you have any interest in Japanese animation, if not I would avoid the two hours you'll spend in the place and the six hours it takes to get the tickets and find it.

Day 25 – Kyoto

Ciara causes widespread panic at breakfast when she mishears 'Lunchtime in Japan' for 'Landslide in Japan' which she repeats loudly several times. I put our Chinese dining companion at ease but not before several surrounding holidaymakers have jumped out of the window unable to face the prospect of another natural disaster. On the plus side, I got to finish their toast.

Not content with the Silver Pavilion yesterday, today I step up a notch and visit the Golden Pavilion which...

…OK enough religion!  After 24 days (and yesterday in particular) if I see another temple, shrine, pavilion, scripture, sculpture, painting, talisman, gate, garden or get even the faintest whiff of incense, I am liable to do a Kendo Nagasaki (1980s Japanese wrestling legend, for those of you who didn't watch World of Sport) go ballistic, and put an innocent passer-by into a half-nelson.

The Manga Museum on the other hand was a great distraction, a must for anyone who believes that a man can fly or anyone who just likes looking at weird Japanese illustrations of girls being attacked by giant octopuses. The museum contained enough exhibits that I happily stayed for over four hours engrossed in the original artworks, storyboards and stories of the drunken antics of the authors. If I could have read any of the comics I may still be there now.

In the evening I was in a noodle restaurant which showed me the future, no it wasn't caused by a bowl of hallucinogenic mushroom soup, but an automatic waiter. The concept is so simple that even a cow could use one – provided it could avoid the chef's cleaver for long enough. A machine stands just inside the door of the restaurant, it features pictures of all the dishes and drinks on the menu with buttons below each, simply make your choice, insert the cash, then take your ticket to the chef who whips it up and brings it to your table. 

No more trying to get a disinterested berk's attention, no waiting for the bill, or the change. Waiters and waitresses everywhere you have been warned your days are numbered and I will remind you of this the next time I get a 'I'm so busy, you'll have to wait' look. 

Day 24 – Kyoto

With over 1600 Buddhist temples in Kyoto, today was always going to be a long one. The Eastern area of Kyoto – Higashiyama – contains enough means of salvation that even a Premier League footballer could find it – if not spell it. Highlights of my day included; 

Nanzen-ji – a Zen Buddhist temple. It's the headquarters of the Nanzen-ji branch of Rinzai Zen.

While,

Chion-in – the headquarters of the Jōdo-shū sect founded by Hōnen, who proclaimed that sentient beings are reborn in Amida Buddha's Western Paradise.

Not forgetting,

Kiyomizu-dera – which was originally affiliated with the influential Hossō sect. However, in 1965 it severed that affiliation, and its present custodians call themselves members of the Kitahossō sect.

Got that? Thanks Wikipedia. Let's not bother with the other one-thousand, five-hundred and ninety-six shall we, I don't think the spell-check could handle it.

Day 23 – Kyoto

Is Japan expensive? 

The simple answer is yes, especially if you are travelling on the Somalian Shilling, the Peruvian Sol or the New Zealand Dollar. In general, prices are pretty much comparable to London. 

The most expensive beer I have seen was in an Irish Bar which wanted £9 for a pint of Guinness – which I have to admit is about as authentically Dublin as it gets. As for food, I have kept coming across what is known as 'Gift Fruit' which, as the name suggests, is a fruit given as a gift, but this is not your token bag of grapes for a twisted ankle variety present. I am to talking about a watermelon – a normal-looking everyday watermelon – that retails for...

...those of you with a weak heart or figure-hugging pocket may want to sit down…

...that retails for... £120! 

Yes you read that correctly, I did not miss a decimal point. How about a single strawberry for £8?

Apparently each piece of fruit is grown on its own vine, with the temperature, sunlight and moisture intake strictly controlled by the farmer (he'll be the one towing the horse box with a Ferrari). Another strange one was the tin of Spam I came across for £7. The message is clear: avoid melon and spam fritters at all costs.

Having eaten nine fruit salads at the breakfast buffet – some hope, it was sushi and seaweed for the 23rd day – I took the train to Nara to visit one of Japan's most impressive World Heritage Sites – Tōdai-ji, or to use the more common English translation; that big bloody Budda thing. 

Enormous he is (one of the world's largest), sitting comfortably inside the largest wooden building in the world (settle down, I know that is exciting), the entire temple area is surrounded by hundreds of deer who are regarded as messengers of the gods, and it appears that the message is 'Hey tourist, have you got any biscuits or crisps I can eat, or will I just follow you around and sniff you constantly?'

I'll be honest, I expected more from the gods.

Day 22 – Osaka to Kyoto

Having caught an early train to Kyoto I dump my bags at the hotel and visit the Arashiyama Bamboo Forest. This took longer than expected as Ciara was in charge of map reading, the first train took us an incredible distance in the wrong direction, the second train (to get back to where we started) only a short distance in the wrong direction.

Relinquishing Ciara of duties we arrived at the forest where closely knit bamboo trees tower into the air, knocking against each other, causing mysterious eerie echoes throughout the area – if it hadn't been for the swarms of dumpling sellers and tourists it would have been very, very spooky indeed. There were no crouching tigers or hidden dragons – although admittedly they could have been very well hidden

In the evening I discovered the finest  Chu-Hi (flavoured alcohol) drink I have tasted since arriving. I am not exactly sure what it was, but it was close enough to whisky that a Scotsman would buy one (well, steal one) with just enough of a kick of ginger to make the whisky drinkable.

I have no idea what is was called either as the writing on the can was entirely in Japanese, however, I was impressed enough by the amusing cartoon character that featured on the can to splash out the required £1.20. 

Japanese designers seem to love a cartoon character, a huge amount of advertising and packaging feature them. I particularly like the illustrations used on alcohol packaging as it is stupidly banned in England (as it's seen to be promoting drinking to children) a policy which has proved such a fantastic deterrent to underage drinking. 

What, Eh? Oh.

Day 21 – Osaka

Due to the Osaka hotel room shortage I am forced to move to another hotel a couple of streets away, annoyingly I cannot check in until 4pm. The silver lining is that as I have stayed at the Toyoko Inn chain for ten nights they are giving me tonight for free – I almost regret taking all those complimentary sachets of green tea now. Almost.

I spend the day visiting Osaka City Museum followed by Osaka Castle – which looks splendid surrounded by the changing colours of the Autumnal red, green and yellow trees.

In the evening I visit the main shopping area and see why Osaka was bombed so extensively during the World War II as the amount of light bulbs on display must have been visible from Washington. We have another Okonomiyaki which is quickly becoming the only food we eat in Japan.

Day 20 – Hiroshima to Osaka

For some reason accommodation in Osaka is harder to find than a donut in Kirstie Alley's dressing room. I spent over two hours on the internet being thwarted by a variety of  'no availability' messages and Japanese websites.

The hotel manager where I am currently staying then spent over an hour attempting in vain to locate me a room before, with a rather grim face telling me, she had found 'something, but not of a high standard'. With bowed head and quivering lower lip she a admitted that the room had 'A lamp that did not work'. Gravely insulted, I immediately called for the name of her superior, her first born child and front row seats at her impending hair-kiri.

My worst hotel rooms:

1. Osaka, Japan – A lamp that didn't work, upon arrival it had been fixed.

2. San Salvador, El Salvador – This particular hotel had a 10pm curfew as a courtesy to it's guests whose safety on the surrounding streets was dubious at best. The walls separating the rooms were pieces of plywood, that only rose to just above head height – the remainder was chicken wire. None of the rooms had locks so rather than be murdered in my sleep, I spent the night drinking vodka with a heavily home-tattooed Mexican who had recently been released from a Texas jail for drug running.

3. Oaxaca, Mexico – Having spent a night on the Tequila I was in need of a good nights sleep. Around three in the morning having been constantly woken by strange gushing sounds, I lifted the wooden planks under my mattress to find it had been built over a sewer – a unique feature you won't find on Grand Designs.

4. Kuching, Borneo – The smashed window was unsatisfactory, but it was hot so It gave a nice breeze and a decent view. The bed frame that looked like a medieval torture instrument was just about bearable, however, the flimsy sponge mattress stained with enough substances (blood being the principal one) to keep the CSI Borneo boys busy for a number of days was just to much. The floor turned out to be even dirtier.

Day 19 – Naoshima to Hiroshima

We decided that one day in Hiroshima was not enough, and with Japanese trains being as good as they are, a backtrack of 170kms is an easy enough journey to make. Without this backtrack I would not of had the pleasure of seeing a station cleaner pushing around a rubbish cart that, whenever the wheels were in motion, played 'The Camptown Ladies' – that fella must go home the happiest man in the world, either that or one day he will snap and kill 80 commuters with an automatic weapon.

Having returned to Hiroshima the only thing left to do was decide what to do with the day, ancient castles? sacred temples? or, how about a 7km long production line in the Mazda Factory? Yes my inner Clarkson was released as I watched in amazement as workers and robots armed with all manner of power tools swarmed like Doozers (for those of you who remember Fraggle Rock) over slow moving cars.

For dinner in the evening we have another Okonomiyaki, which I suspect is the real reason Ciara wanted to return.

Day 18 – Naoshima

Naoshima Island has been given over to art, indoor and outdoor installations dot the island including; enormous fibre-glass pumpkins on the beach, inexplicable glass and mirror cubicles, art galleries and entire houses that have been turned into art projects. 

Many are very good – I particularly liked the almost pitch black house that had transformed the living room into a neon-light filled pond, and one installation by James Turrell in Chichu Art Museum that was nothing short of sensational – pop out and have a look at it yourself.

Inevitably a couple suffered from the curse of modern-art blather 'The twigs on the floor are symbolic of my struggle', Really? Or are they just something that was picked up in the park on a Friday afternoon having been laying into the sake.

The nights in Naoshima are slow, boasting only a handful of restaurants and bars that are dotted inconvieniently around the island, I find myself with less things to do than Amy Winehouse's cleaning lady. Having bought a can of beer from the Seven-Eleven store, I walk around the ferry station and go to the Seven-Eleven store again. Fearing the lady behind the counter may think I am casing the joint if I visit for a third time I go back to the tent.

Early night it is then.

Day 17 – Hiroshima to Naoshima

How is this for a recipe for travel related disaster: I have to get from Hiroshima to the Island of Naoshima, the journey consists of a ferry, a bus and three trains (including a changeover time between arriving and depart ing trains of four minutes!) – it's bound to go wrong somewhere, isn't it?

No, not a chance, I even made the four minute changeover at Chayamachi with about three and a half minutes to spare such is the organisation in this country, even the buses on the island are timed to leave just after each ferry arrives. In England the buses would leave two minutes before each ferry arrived, in South America they would leave six kilometres from the ferry terminal from an unmarked building, once a day. 

In Naoshima we have decided to forgo the comforts of the first world and rough it with a bit of camping. Granted the tent is six metres wide and bedecked with incredibly comfortable beds, a fridge, a kettle, a heater, lamps, tables, chairs and an umbrella stand, so it is not exactly the kind of tent you see in Somalian refugee camps.

Day 16 – Beppu to Hiroshima

I catch the early morning train, bidding farewell well to the incredibly friendly receptionist in Beppu, I did think at one stage he was going to barricade the door to stop us from leaving.

On the Eastern bank of the river Kynota-gawa river in Hiroshima stands the Atomic Bomb Dome, I'm sure most people would prefer the original name of The Internatiional Promotion Hall but on August 6th 1945 an atomic bomb exploded almost directly above it, killing everyone inside (and another 140,00 throughout the city), the building itself was one of the few that remained structurally intact anywhere near the epi-center.

In the afternoon I visit the Peace Memorial Museum which is both horrific and compulsive in equal measure. The wide tree-lined streets and laid back atmosphere make Hiroshima the nicest city I have visited in Japan, it is certainly not a place trapped by the past.

In the evening I visit Okonomi-mura a restaurant complex set over three floors each housing approximately ten different restaurants, which is not unusual, until I tell you that every one sells exactly the same dish – Okonomiyaki (a thick pancake-like dish of batter, eggs and cabbage with a filling of your choice). The restaurant I chose seemed to have a thing for pork as the 12 varieties of Okonomiyaki on the menu served everything from plain pork to pork with shrimp via pork with cheese and pork with korean pickle. I was tempted to tell the vendor I didn't like pork but feared the incident could descend into a Monty Python sketch, so simply ordered pork and spam.

Day 15 – Beppu

A morning in Hell. 

No, not a day spent Christmas shopping in Asda and Primark but rather the Hells region of Kunnawara, north of Beppu. 

Named due to the volcanic waters and steam that seep from the ground through the rocks, drains and rivers (the painted plastic devils that have been placed randomly around the area are just a nice touch) the Hells area is circuit of eight natural wonders where boiling water and mud bubbles ferociously from the ground. Local entrepreneurs have taken to cooking in the intense heat but there is only so much egg and corn you can eat in a morning before wanting to vomit.

The other attractions in town surround the Japanese pastime of onsen, which is the putting of your tired and weary body in the aforementioned boiling water, whilst the water is not as hot as that found at the Hells it is still bloody hot, and the last thing you can be is weary when you need to jump three foot in the air after stepping into the water. Fortunately there are different temperature pools for those weaker mortals inclined to keep the top five layers of skin on their body.

In the evening I pay a visit to the Jin Roberta and Beer Pub. As soon as I walk in I am staggered by the enormous variety of…  fish. 

In a novel take on the traditional pub, a very limited supply of two beers (one of which is a stout so I am more than happy) is supplemented, under a huge glass counter along the bar, by enough dead fish to keep a gang of drunken penguins happy for hours. It seems strange but it works incredibly well, order a beer, point at a fish you like the look of, and the barman will grill it right in front of you. Fresh mackerel and beer what more could any man want his woman to smell of?

Day 14 – Aso to Beppu

It seems that even Beppu likes to keep Sunday special so consequently pretty much everything is shut when we arrive in town – I'm not so sure what is special about that, maybe I am missing the point. Whenever I need to kill some time I find that the supermarkets are great fun just to browse around trying to identify what the products are. I am not sure what the shelf-stackers make of me keep taking photos of packs of curry.

I get press-ganged by the receptionist at our hostel  (I mean we happily volunteer) into doing a calligraphy class, where we are taught the art of Japanese writing in return for helping students with their English, it actually turned out to be good fun and in response to the often asked question 'Are you on Facebook?' you will be relieved to know that I have given out most of my good friend's names.

In the evening I look around the town and am perplexed by the amount of signs offering 'Snacks'. As I venture deeper into the back streets the signs become more revealing in both an artistic and explanatory sense as 'Ladies Snack', 'Jenny's Snack' and 'Lolita's Snack'  leave me in little doubt as to the true meaning of what snacks are on offer. By the time I arrived at 'Come and get a bloody big snack here, sailor'  the Yen had well and truly dropped. 

Day 13 – Kumamoto to Aso

I was in a shopping centre today and happened upon probably the greatest toilet I have ever used, Oak-panelled walls, an iPad like screen to control every aspect of your visit (seat temperature, room temperature, angle of bidet jet, etc), enough room to swing a cat in each out-stretched hand, a flip down desk (yes, you read that correctly) and enough paper cranes to keep the armchair origami ornithologist happy for days. 

The only previous time I had seen a bird in a toilet was an unfortunate dead pigeon who had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the open-sewers of Glastonbury Festival. Still it was death by stench or watching the Red Hot Chili Peppers so I understand the bird's dilemma.

Aso town is set in the middle of the world's largest caldera (126km in circumference), the town itself is very, very small but it is the main base for getting into the volcanic Aso-San Highlands, which conveniently you do by catching a bus from directly outside the main train station, buses leave at regular intervals throughout the day – this country is so easy to travel in!

The main volcanic crater has all of the conditions you would want and expect from a highly dangerous natural wonder – billowing smoke, toxic gas emissions and deathly barren landscapes – only failing to deliver on an actual eruption itself. Had an eruption happened, we would simply have moved to the  emergency shelters that somebody (of course) had had the foresight to build on the mountain side, I imagine the shelters would have had a bar, a swimming pool, a couple of TVs and a representative of Aso Volcano (apologising profusely for the trouble) inside them too.

Red Romance – no not a hilarious Moscow-based Jennifer Aniston romantic comedy but possibly the worst beer I have ever tasted, try taking a particularly weak beer, add 50% water and a bit of red colouring and you will be close to the taste.

Day 12 – Kumamoto

As you may have reasoned by now, everything in Japan runs smoothly, this blog, usually awash with stories of: annoying tour guides, unhelpful waiters, malodorous conductors, late-running trains, non-existent buses, death-trap taxis, unpalatable food, insipid drinks, insufferable accommodation, rats, cockroaches, fleas and all manor of obstacles that Judith Chalmers never had to put up with are all happily absent on this trip. Whilst this makes for a pretty uneventful blog, it makes a nice change for me, 

Probably the most annoying thing I have come across since being here is when I approach a door and only realise at the last moment it is not electronic and have to open it manually.

I may have to reassess going to third world countries if this continues, however, I believe Libya is particularly nice this time of year.

Today I visited Kumamoto Castle, an impressive wooden castle that dominates the skyline of the city The sixth floor gave 360 degree views of the city and amble warning of any approaching samurai – including the obligatory few in the courtyard below gurning for photos and looking distinctly un-noble. In the afternoon I visited the very plush and modern Kumamoto Art Museum, personally I would have put a bit more money towards acquiring decent artwork.

Sapporo – The Winters Tale is a new discoverer on the beer front, and whilst it may sound like a Japanese Disney movie it is much more appealing than that. I am yet to find a bad beer over here (I am not including the dubious alco-pops in that statement), however, it has been rather difficult to keep track on the beers as a the majority of the names are written in Japanese. 

Day 11 – Nagasaki to Kumamoto

In the morning I found myself at Dejima Island Museum a tiny man-made island at the base of Nagasaki harbour which between 1641 and the 1850s was the only area in Japan that foreigners were allowed to live. It was run as a trading outpost by the Portugese followed by the Dutch (obviously the British tried to steal it) and all contact Japan had with the outside world came through the island.

From the latter part of the 19th Century, as Johnny Foreigner was allowed to move freely around Japan, it's use diminished and the area around it was reclaimed from the sea, built upon and the original island was lost.

Appalled that this historic landmark was being swallowed to progress, engineers are now busy. digging out the area around the old island to create an in-land island, in effect they are reclaiming a reclaimed island from the land. 

Only in Japan could this happen.

I catch a late afternoon train to Kumamoto, and check-in at yet another Toyoko-Inn Hotel. I have stayed at this chain on eight out of the last 10 days, chiefly because it has one of the few websites I can find that not only works, but as an added bonus, displays words in English. The amazing thing about the chain is that the double rooms are exactly the same in every city I have been to, I don't mean similar, I mean exactly the same. Tonight I opted for an upgrade to the 'Double Panorama View Suite' which I should have guessed was exactly the same as every other room I have stayed in but on the 23rd floor. At least I know how to use the shower, air conditioner and coffee machine.

As Ciara and I were leaving the hotel in the evening, I caught the unmistakable delicious aroma of curry drifting from the kitchen. Maybe our plans for a meal in an expensive restaurant could be put on hold? 

'How much is the curry' I ask the receptionist, 

'It's free'. 

What do you think we did?

Day 10 – Fukuoka to Nagasaki

The trains in Japan are amazing, we have yet to catch one that did not leave and arrive et exactly the time specified on the ticket, when you consider that the distance between Kyoto and Fukuoka is over 600kms that is some feat. The seats are wide, leather-bound monsters that recline and have all manner of trays and drink-holders concealed within them. The carriages are immaculate (even the smoking one's – yes, weirdly you can still smoke in restaurants and trains over here) and even the toilets, whilst not good enough to eat your sushi on, would certainly be cleaner than you average first class seat on a train in London.

An early train takes me to the infamous southern city  of Nagasaki. As you would imagine there is a wide variety of monuments and sculptures dedicated to the atomic explosion in which 75,000 people ultimately lost their lives. The main Museum of the Atomic Explosion is a sombre and at times gruesome place with artefacts, photographs and film clips telling the story from the moment the B-52 plane dropped the bomb to the effects on the ground in the days and years after the blast. A fantastically designed underground glass memorial building to the victims is next door which offers some degree of inspiration.

I didn't really fancy visiting the penguin aquarium after that.

Day 9 – Fukuoka

Great Britain has darts, America has bowling, Japan has Sumo! 

Two big fat blokes locked in sporting combat – for the power, for the glory, for the tradition. OK perhaps not so much the tradition in darts. maybe for the sixteen pints of Watney's Red Barrel.

Japan has only four Sumo tournaments a year each lasting fifteen days, I had been told to arrive before dawn if I even wanted to smell a ticket. 

I duly arrived before the cock had opened his eyes and was literally over-the-moon (I may as well continue the sporting theme) to find seats still available, I entered the arena to find it packed, packed with empty seats that is. 

It seems that the first five hours are given over to the lower ranked, the has-beens and the 48-stone weaklings. Still, it gave me plenty of time to watch the amateurs go through the paces and find out where all fifteen toilets were located before the place started to fill out for the main events. It also gave me ample opportunity to trade in my £20 seat for one of the superior £100 ones available closer to the action. 

As the day progressed the crowd grew more raucous, which by Japanese standards means they progressed from quietly clapping to shouting words of encouragement to both fighters. I am not sure what it was they kept shouting but it sounded uncannily like 'Roger Moore', I'm sure it wasn't but I haven't seen him act in much lately so maybe he has a new line of work.

The old boys in the next seats struck up a conversation and before long I was being handed cans of beer, shots of sake, bars of kit-kat and pieces of dried fish 'I'll pass thanks, fifteen's my limit' whilst being given a full run down on the finer points of the sport, such as the ongoing invasion of foreigners (Mongolians in particular) and Japan's reluctance to open it to a wider audience, I see their point, would 'Hank Hamburger-guzzler from Wisconsin weighing in at 85-stone and sponsored by Dunkin' Donuts' add much to proceedings?

Maybe not, but christ it would be funny.