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 and 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, and ate local delicacies such as kip kap (jellied pig cheeks) and a mighty tonnage of chicory and 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, and laments the passing of the Underpant Museum in Brussels. Mixing description and low-grade buffoonery, Pearson paints a portrait of Belgium that is more rounded than a Smurf after a night on the mussels.