Good God Mike! I was having the most unfeasibly foul smelling defecation this morning and I thought to myself, ‘How’s my old Canuck mate in Nippon doing? I wonder if he’s still as chipper as a chipping thing, braving the foibles of life among the vertically challenged but ever so ever polite Japanese brethren?’ I’m sure by now your teeny weeny has taken to hibernation after severe overindulgence in the local delicacies. Me? I still bare a striking resemblance to an Adonis on sexiness steroids, albeit my hair only inhabits the borders of my bonce and my famously chiseled stomach, hewn from a granite washboard, is copying the form of a seven month preggers lass with cravings for tripled fried chips and lumps of chocolate covered lard. But I’m content. I can still see the five, sorry nine inch finger beaver and I’m solvent bar the mortgage, pay day loans and that tenner I borrowed from my lovely girlfriend to purchase her a bloody Valentines Day pressie. Are you going steady with something or someone or still seeing how many Love Hotels you can acquaint yourself with? I miss our fandangos in Kyoto. The culture, the people, the food. My God the food!! And yes the ladies. Fond mammories. Anyway my little muffle munching Mikey boy, I hope your diabetes is under control and you’ve not lost another eye, you’d really be up the creek without any goggles then! Catch you later and have some raw fish testicles for me.

Love Dad.