Here we are. It's 48 hours after we landed in Hong Kong and we've spent a fun, enlightening and comfortable two days here with Seb and Sarah. The flight, predictably, was uneventful. For future reference, don't bother with The Assassination of Jesse James, it was almost boring enough to cure my in-flight insomnia. The most exciting part of the flight was seeing Ricky Hatton at immigration. He'd been on our flight, presumably keeping his head down in first class, and was waiting to enter the country in a shabby, dog-eared t-shirt standing with his good lady. I can't offer you photographic evidence as I didn't want to stick a camera in his face for fear he might start swinging. But trust me, the one Ricky Hatton that beered-up Mancs sing about was there with us. If
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