Happy as a Frenchman who's invented a pair of self-removing trousers.

The other day Max, Brad and I were at the Toyama Golden Bowl discussing that most important issue of our time: why we never got to bowl the much-lauded "Golden Bowl", that ball reserved for the great and good, and ceremonially handed out every so often to those of note to try and score one strike in front of their peers. We’ve seen it handed out a few times, each time to be totally fluffed by those bowling it. Give it to us we cry! Are we not most faithful and high-rolling customers? We also noticed that day that everyone apart from us had a special fruit machine effect happen on their screens, a kind of fruit lottery. We watched it happen all around the alley, yet totally miss us.

We decided it is a race thing – they wont give us the “Golden Bowl” because we’re not Japanese, perhaps we’ll try to attack them with it? (Maybe they think we’re Russian?) This led, as it invariably does, onto our positions as foreigners in Japan and our treatment by Japanese “Maybe this is what it’s like to be black” suggested Max. Then I scored a strike, and the fruit machine effect happened to us.

We are constantly, it seems, thinking in racial terms. We instantly assumed it was because we were foreign that we didn’t get the special fruit machine treatment. Obviously it was based on your scoring ability. We still think they’re not going to give us the golden bowl treatment though.