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The
Morris Telford archive. Read about Morris's previous
exploits, and find out how the adventure has unfolded.
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Morris's journey
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven |
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| FACTS |
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Name: Morris Telford
Age: 33
DOB: 18/04/70
Occupation:Unemployed
Hobbies: Enlightenment, Philosophy, Bingo
Favourite
book – Ordnance Survey Map of Shropshire 1999 edition
Favourite
foods – Pickled Eggs
Favourite
film – Late For Dinner
Favourite colour – The delicate cyan of the dinnertime sky in
Moreton Say.
Favourite British County – Shropshire
Favourite Place – Moreton Say
Favourite Postal Code Area – TF9
Favourite radio
frequency - 96FM
Favourite sound – The gentle breeze rustling through the leafy
glades of Moreton Say
Favourite Clive – Clive of India
Favourite Iron Bridge - Ironbridge
Favourite adhesive note size – 75 x 75mm
Favourite Vegetable – Anything grown in the fertile soils of
Shropshire
Favourite band – *(shameless plug)
Biggest inspiration – |
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Now
that Lang is showing me some basic moves, I have to call him "Sensei
Pin".
This in itself didn’t bother me, but after several hours of grinding
my knuckles in a bucket of sand to harden them and then being made
to sleep at the foot of Lang’s bed in a small cage, I feel the employer/employee
relationship has changed somewhat.
I only wanted to learn how to look threatening and then run away
but Lang seems intent on turning me into his prodigy.
When I find the appropriate moment I’ll explain to him that I am
a man of peace and I don’t see how hitting and kicking people will
convince them to move to Shropshire.
Violence is never the answer. Unless of course the question is "Think
of a word that rhymes with fence and starts with ‘V’, or "What is
Vinnie Jones famous for?", or "What is Ecneloiv spelled backwards?".
Violence is hardly ever the answer.
I’m on
a 24 hour a day training schedule. I haven’t worked this hard since
Aunt Felicity sprained her ankle on the top of the Wrekin and I had
to carry her home.
Lang is a harsh master. Every time I try to tell him that I want to
stop doing the Pouncing Leopard and start doing the Sleeping Morris
he prods me with a stick and shouts at me in Mandarin.
I am bruised, tired and sore, but I must admit I do feel fitter and
stronger than I ever have before. My muscles are firm and my head
is clear.
I’ve been put on a strict diet of water and rice, though I have been
able to supplement this with some gingerbread I had hidden in my bag,
and by sucking on a copy of "War Poems of Wilfred Owen" that I spilled
Ribena over while I was in Holland. It still retains a blackcurrenty
flavour and hopefully some vitamin C content .
Sensei
Pin has an extensive library of books on the martial arts.
I am permitted three hours at night to study these texts. They are
really quite fascinating. I’m looking through them to see if I can
find anything to support my theory that martial arts originated in
Shropshire.
I’m
actually getting quite interested in this whole martial arts thing.
In much the same way Bruce Lee took aspects of different martial arts
to create Jeet Kune Do, I want to meld judo , kendo, karate, wing
chun, arnis, silat, kung-fu throw in a bit of Japanese Bujitsu, and
the Kalaripayattu of India and develop a new Shropshire-inspired martial
art based on a hybrid of all these teachings, but concentrating more
on the running away bit.
I shall call it "The Way Of The Badger".
I had
a phone call from Julie today. She was incredibly apologetic for the
way she acted before.
Apparently the advertising campaign that features my photo and something
about me smelling like a dead animal has become a massive hit. She
wants me to feature in a series of television adverts.
I told her that there were two very good reasons why I could not feature
in a series of television adverts.
Firstly, I explained to her again that it would be against my principles
to endorse a product I did not think highly of. If people see me as
someone who supports an inferior product for personal gain, they may
mistake my championing of Shropshire as insincere, and that would
be terrible.
Secondly, I’m currently chained to a cage while an aging, overweight
master of the martial arts tries to turn me into Shropshire’s answer
to Jon Claude Van Damme.
The Fists of Clay from Moreton Say .
I tried
yet again today to tell Sensei Pin that I don’t want to be a one man
death machine.
H he just smiled peacefully and went on and on about how his teachings
are not about death; they are about life, inner peace, tranquillity
that sort of thing.
If it’s all so tranquil, why do I spend all day hitting and kicking
things?
Today
I am permitted a 12 hour respite from my training schedule.
I shall be using this time to contemplate the things I have learned,
rest a little and then to escape over the fence and run like the wind.
I’ve left Lang a note telling him he is fired. I gave him a months
salary and an open invitation to Moreton Say, no hard feelings.
China is, I’ve decided, a difficult place to spread my particular
Salopian message. The natives are not only suspicious generally of
anything Western, they are doubly suspicious of the man from the "smells
like a dead animal" advertisements trying to convince them about lifestyle
changes.
However, Shropshire comes with me wherever I go, both literally and
figuratively. I carry some of my homeland's soil (from my Mother’s
garden in Moreton Say) in my pocket and I carry the intangible hopes
and ideals distilled by the generations who have lived in Shropshire.
I still see a lot of potential here in China and I’m travelling north
to see if I have more success in rural China.
I no longer have a guide to help me speak the language and show me
around, but I have bought a phrasebook, some new trousers and I am
in better shape physically than I’ve ever been, so I’m optimistic
I can do some good somewhere.
I just hope Lang doesn’t follow me.
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