Morris entertains the waiting passengers at Frankfurt Airport with a few games of bingo but gets involved in a fracas with an angry American couple. Finally he boards his flight to Shanghai and learns that there's more to tea in China than there is in Market Drayton.

Frankfurt airport looks much the same as all the other airports I’ve visited. Lots of planes, obviously, people looking sad waiting for their flight, sleeping stretched across three bucket seats. Why don’t airports provide bunk beds in the departure area? Why do families look so miserable when they are about to go on holiday? Why don’t they organise Bingo games to keep discontented travellers occupied while they wait for their plane?

Concentrating on that last question, I’m using the international language of Bingo to cheer up a group of families that were trying unsuccessfully to avoid eye contact with me. Using an airport bin as a makeshift drum, and empty cans of pop with numbers scratched on them as balls I’ve been able to get quite a decent game going. It’s noisy but functional and I’m offering flights to Shropshire as grand prize for the first person to shout "Haus"

On the side of the bin I’m using as a drum for the numbered balls I’ve written Bin-go, which I thought was both funny and clever. It must have lost something in translation as not one person pointed out how amusing the pun was. I’m not sure what the German is for bingo, I do keep hearing people say "Halt's Maul" whenever I spin the bin full of old cans so perhaps that is it.

It’s a good feeling helping people. In this heartless, cold world outside Moreton Say, I’ve seen every side of human nature. From those that fool themselves into thinking they are happy and fulfilled even though they have never seen Shropshire, to those that are searching for Shropshire but don’t know it. I’ve seen people whose idea of a good time is strapping themselves half-naked to a motor home wearing a magic hat, people trapped in an insular society of silly names and caravans, people working in abject misery while at the same time being contractually obliged to smile at all times and suggest fries with everything. Not once in all my travels so far have I met anyone who had the inner peace and joy, the extra choccy sprinkle of fulfilment on the cappuccino of life, the Pentium 5 smile upgrade installed on the motherboard of existence, the protective plastic of pure peace that comes with the new three piece suite of sunshine and serendipity that comes from living in the premiere English county, Shropshire.

I can’t wait to bring a little of the old Shropshire magic to China.

Monica tried to stop me, but I felt it my duty to accompany Kip in the ambulance and see what I could do to help. I offered to pay their medical bills but Monica got hysterical and they had to sedate her, leaving me in charge of Kip, I had to say I was their son just to get admittance to his room. This is where the problems started, they had just hooked Kip up to a monitor when my phone went off, it was Mother ringing to tell me the grass needed cutting. The nurse heard me saying, "Not now Mother" and became suspicious because I had said Monica was my mother and she was unconscious on a hospital trolley next to me. Also, mobile phones were not allowed in the hospital and so I was taken to a small white room and told to wait.

Then Kip and Monica’s real son, Chad, who looked not unlike a young Trevor Howard, turned up and I had to tell him I was his long-lost half-brother, he embraced me and we went to see our Father. Kip woke up, much shouting ensued and I slipped away in the confusion.

By the time I got back to the airport, my flight had flown. They could have waited for me.

I’m full of optimism. Finally, I’m on my way to China, land of the fortune cookie, the panda, lychees, unusually small trees, Chinese food, Chinese dragons, Chinese checkers and other things Chinese. I can’t wait.

According to my travel leaflet, China is world's fourth-largest country and considerably bigger than Shropshire with 1,284,303,705 living there. This worried me a bit, if I do manage to convince everyone in China to pop over to Shropshire the M54 might not be able to cope. The Chinese climate is apparently "extremely diverse; tropical in the south to subarctic in the north", this sounds a bit like Shropshire too, I should fit right in.

I’ve booked into a hotel and want to explore Shanghai.

Shanghai is big, bigger than Oswestry, bigger even than Telford. I’m shopping now in a place called the Super Brand Mall, it’s an amazingly big shopping centre, it makes Market Drayton look like a small market town. It’s not what I expected at all here in China, I’d seen the Chinese television series "Monkey" at home and it’s nothing like that.

I tried to speak to 27 different people today, none of them seemed to connect with me on any significant level or want to listen to things about Shropshire and how great it is. On the bright side, that still leaves 1,284,303,778 people left who might be interested in speaking to me. 16 million of them live in Shanghai, I could spend the next ten years here and only scratch the surface, I need a mass-market approach.

I’ve hired a guide, his name is Lang So Pin, he promises to help me bring Shropshire to the Chinese masses for the equivalent of £1.56 per day, not a bad deal. Lang looks a bit like an overweight Bruce Lee with bad teeth and possibly a wig. He speaks both Mandarin and standard Chinese so I hope to be able to communicate via him to most of the people I meet.

Lang tells me I should drink tea to experience the real China. I explained to him that I’ve been drinking tea all my life and showed him the three PG tips bags I had left in my travel pack. He laughed at me, I’m not sure why.

We are at the Hu Xin Teahouse, it’s a beautiful place, all twirly banisters and knobbly roofs. They take absolutely ages making a cup of tea here. I tried to take over and use one of my last pyramid bags instead of messing around with all this loose-leaf nonsense, but they seemed quite offended so I left them to it. The cups were very small too, especially for the price they cost. I told Land So Pin that you can have a pot of tea for one at a café in Market Drayton for 80p and get three cups out of it, he seemed suitably impressed.