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In the first instalment Merton samples fried donkey’s penis (‘Well, I can tell he wasn’t Jewish’), then hijacks a karaoke party held at a faux 17th-century French chateau by singing Unchained Melody in his dressing gown. Beneath the daft facade, however, Merton has clearly done his homework.
Paul tries his hand at kung fu at the Shaolin Temple, famed as the birthplace of Zen Buddhism, before visiting a Tibetan monastery and meeting nomads who live on the plains. Paul then takes in two of the most populous cities in China: Chongqing, the largest and fastest growing metroplis in the world, and historic Chengdu, where he meets a businessman with a chain of dog grooming parlours.
Our man in the Panama hat and socks-with-shorts combo continues his bizarre travelogue. But wait, Merton's looking down in the mouth. Too much travelling and a bad cold have soured his mood and China is starting to get him down. "You get sick of the s*** and spitting and the staring," he confides bitterly, recovering his sense of humour to add, "And that's just the crew." Merton rallies to deliver a programme of two halves: marvels in the first half - the sublime beauty of the Li river, the paddy fields of the "Dragon's Backbone", a scene where he is massaged by six people at once - but then a slide toward bathos for the second half as he visits Guangzhou (or Canton, as was) and mingles with less-than-scintillating expats. But as a quirky glimpse of a nation full of wonders, this continues to be an enjoyable eye-opener.
It's the end of the road for Paul Merton as he visits Shanghai, the final destination on his Chinese trip. On the whole, when he hasn't been pressed into doing silly things, Merton has been an affable and thoughtful guide who's managed to show us little-reported social aspects of this immense and complicated country. He's packed a lot in, too, and this last episode is no different. It's overstuffed with small treats, from Merton trying and failing to become a ballroom dancer, to a trip to the very weird, Prisoner-type community of Thames Town, a largely fake place packed with pristine facades of British buildings - a cathedral, pubs, shops. Only a handful of people actually live on Thames Town's housing estate (which looks so suburban it could be anywhere from Esher to Preston) and the place is, oddly, mainly used as a backdrop for wedding photographs.
