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The Americans just weren't ready for him - will the Aussies fare any better? This week Morris meets a fellow Salopian is shocked to discover that he doesn't want to go home... Morris soon fixes that! And all before heading into the outback with a female Beatles tribute band.

IÂ’m getting the bus into the city of Alice Springs from the airport; itÂ’s a few miles away. After such a long flight, IÂ’m as tired as the Moreton Say roof thatcher the day after it rained frogs and IÂ’m going to check into a hotel to gather my thoughts before I tackle my antipodean brethren.

Alice Springs, immortalised by Peter Finch and Virginia McKenna in the 1956 classic "A Town Like Alice", actually looks a bit bleak, a lot of sand, very dry, and disappointingly I have yet to see one person wearing a hat with corks dangling from it or playing a didgeridoo. IÂ’m staying at the Heavitree Gap Outback Lodge which is actually very nice, my room has a kitchen and a fridge and there are wallabies you can feed. I tried to feed one of the wallabies, IÂ’m not sure what wallabies eat but they donÂ’t seem very keen on my Kendal Mint Cake.

Found a cyber-café called "Byte-Me" and set up a temporary base of operations.

I searched the local newsagents for copies of "Country Life", thankfully their poison does not seem to have reached Australia yet so I wonÂ’t have to combat any Shropshire misinformation among the locals of Alice Springs. I have yet to have a reply from Country Life about their so-called survey that placed Shropshire 20th out of 37 English counties despite many Emails to them demanding a recount.

I’d encourage all like-minded Shropshire lovers to Email arabella_youens@ipcmedia.com, Country Life’s ‘News Editor’ and ask her for a written apology, let me know if you hear from her.

A group of backpackers from Sydney seemed very interested in my recollections of Shropshire village life. They are five girls – Cherry, Brittany, Kylie, Chelsea and Amy. Brittany seemed particularly impressed when I told her I had seen Crocodile Dundee eleven times. They set off for Ayers rock in four days and I have arranged to join them. All five of them seem very nice and have minds open to new ideas. I hope to convince them all to relocate to Shropshire, perhaps one of them could get to know Toby.

Chelsea has a tattoo of Rolf Harris on her lower back, itÂ’s very tasteful.

I also met a man called Grub who paints Australian wildlife using his own bodily fluids.

I bought some supplies for my planned trek to Ayers rock, chocolate and crisps mostly.

Today I met a man called Gregory who looked like a young John Wayne with bad teeth. Gregory had a disturbing background. He was from Market Drayton. He had forsaken the perfect homeland for the Australian outback, not to embark on some noble quest to enlighten, but to chase money in some greedy misguided notion that being rich materially was better than being enriched by living in Shropshire. He left eleven years ago and has never returned, despite the fact that he could have boarded a plane at any time and once again drank from the crystal streams of joy and goodness waiting for him on the other side of the world in his home county.

His story deeply shocked me, more so when Gregory revealed he had no plans to return to Shropshire, ever. I showed him some postcards of home, I did some impressions of Shropshire wildlife, I made him smell the Tupperware container full of Shropshire earth that I carry at all times in case of emergency, I even offered to buy him a ticket home and he laughed, nothing could rekindle a desire to see Shropshire once more. He told me he owns a successful business, has a nice house, happy family, three cars and "prefers it here".

Mother rang today, everything is fine at home. I asked after Toby and Sophia, Mother said she hasnÂ’t seen much of them since Toby moved out of our house and into next door. I can only presume Toby is working long hours and Mother doesnÂ’t see him come and go. The curtains are drawn night and day, which seems odd; perhaps Sophia is developing film in her living room. I tried to ring Toby at work and they said he wasnÂ’t there. I hope everything is alright, I wanted to tell Toby about the girls IÂ’ve met.

I walked around Alice Springs today, I saw not one spring and met no-one called Alice. I did meet a woman called Rita, she was only four feet tall and was wearing one of those hats with corks dangling off it. Finally.

ItÂ’s still very hot here. IÂ’m resting today in my room, my last day of comfort before I join the girls.

Today IÂ’ve been reading some of the comments left for me on the ´óÏó´«Ã½ message board. Thankyou to everyone for taking such an interest, IÂ’m sorry I canÂ’t reply personally to everyone but IÂ’m very busy saving the world.

It’s always a pleasure to hear from the other Mike Batt who points out that ‘Tarka the Otter’ and 'Sense and Sensibility’ were both filmed in Devon and "take advantage of Devon’s award winning countryside". I’ve seen both those films and distinctly remember that when I watched them I thought "that countryside isn’t half as nice as Moreton Say".

James the Shropshire Lad suggests I kick something out of whoever said Shropshire was the worst place to live. While I understand your anger James, it is always best to put such strong feelings to a non-violent use. Violence is like Richard Whitely, it never solves problems, it only creates them. As Melvin Bone quite rightly points out "kicking the *s%!t* out of whoever did the poll is not really going with Morris philosophy on life".

Clive Bevan helpfully points out the usefulness of the Weetabix Book of Survival, IÂ’ll keep an eye out for it.

The Mailman from Perth give me some extremely exciting information, apparently Perth is home to "the biggest bingo hall in the Southern Hemisphere". I was initially unsure where to head from Alice Springs, now my destination is Perth and the tantalisingly named "biggest bingo", I canÂ’t wait. Apparently Perth is 2,000 kilometres away, so it might take quite a while if I hitchhike, but I sense it will be worth every minute.

The hotel has air-conditioning that seems to consist of a large box in the corner of my room that keeps me awake with a variety of unusual whirring, clanking and grinding noises without actually producing any cool air. I slept with my head in the fridge.

Apparently the girls are an all-female Beatles tribute band, except for Kylie whoÂ’s an accountant. They sang "Paperback Writer" as we walked, expect for Kylie and Amy. Amy is Ringo.

ItÂ’s very hot.

An Aboriginal man approached us as we walked. He also seemed very interested in my tales of Shropshire life. After talking about myself for a few hours, I left him with a postcard of Oswestry and forty Australian dollars; he in turn gave me a boomerang. It was a moment of great cultural understanding and exchange, though I was a little disappointed when I noticed the boomerang was made of plastic and manufactured in China. Cherry showed me how to throw the boomerang, it comes back to you when you throw it, I prefer yo-yos.