White hunter, nice watch

When presented with the idea of visiting a tribe of Amazonian Indians, I have to admit, I had my reservations (boom boom). But the whole thing was quite dignified. The Yagua tribe showed me how to use their blowpipes, painted my face like a jaguar and then swarmed round me trying to sell me jewellery made from beads and bits of just about every animal unfortunate enough to cross their path. It was during this scrum I noticed that, although everyone was decked out in the dried grass outfits, one of the girls had a tan-line from a strappy top, making me think they get the grassy get-up out only when there are gringoes in town.

One of the chiefs took a liking to my ridiculously cheap digital watch and I ended up swapping it for his blowpipe. Unfortunately this bargain was slightly undermined when I had to pay a small fortune to ship the bloody thing home inside a length of pipe because nowhere in Iquitos sells cardboard boxes. Not one single place. I felt like a right tit going into the plumbers´ shop with my blowpipe and saying I wanted to send it to Great Britain.

You may think the piranha I´m dangling (which I caught with my own fair hands) looks like a bit of a tiddler but, I tell you, you should have seen the size of the bastard´s teeth. I am happy to say I observed my own little catch and release policy. Having now tried this sport rather than ignorantly shouting that it is just for barbarians, I can now categorically say, from my experienced viewpoint, it is a sport for barbarians.