It is normal for British travel writers to head south for a destination that is hot, exotic, dangerous, or all three. The author of this book chose a country which is damp, safe & of legendary banality: Belgium. But can any nation whose most famous monument is a statue of a small boy urinating really be that dull? Pearson lived there for several months, burying himself in the local culture. He drank many of the 800 different beers the Belgians produce, & ate local delicacies such as kip kap (jellied pig cheeks) & a mighty tonnage of chicory & chips. In one restaurant the house speciality was ”hare in the style of grandmother”. This book commemorates strange events such as The Festival of Shrimps at Oostduinkerke, & laments the passing of the Underpant Museum in Brussels. Mixing description & low-grade buffoonery, Pearson paints a portrait of Belgium that is more rounded than a Smurf after a night on the mussels.