By Robert Twigger
Product DescriptionAbout to be married, Robert Twigger makes a decision on his final nice event as a bachelor. browsing the web, he discovers the Roosevelt Prize - worthy $50,000 - for the seize of a dwell 30 foot python. Armed purely with a tin of excessive Toast Snuff (deadly if sniffed through a snake), Twigger units off into the distant jungles of Indonesia looking for his prey. alongside the best way, he investigates the legendarily appealing girls of Sulawesi, treads in Nabokov's footsteps, appears to be like for big snakes underneath the sewers of Kuala Lumpur, and spends time with a number of snake catchers and cults. After being stuck up in anti-Chinese riots and surviving on greasy civet cat within the jungle, Twigger eventually comes head to head with the large one; however the ultimate trap isn't really really what he had in brain. in regards to the AuthorRobert Twigger received the Newdigate prize for poetry in 1985. he's the writer of offended White Pyjamas, winner of the Somerset Maugham Award and the William Hill activities publication of the yr Award, immense Snake, The Extinction membership, Being a guy and Voyageur.
Genre : Travel
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Extra info for Big Snake the Hunt for the Worlds Larges
There was a silence. ’ It was the only question I could think of, and Paul’s function seemed to be to answer questions. ‘No. ’ Paul used the honorific ‘Kancho’ whenever he spoke of Shioda, the founder. At the dojo Paul said he was respectfully known as Kancho Sensei. Later, Frank pointed out that kancho also meant ‘enema’ in Japanese. I made a mental note to learn the correct pronunciation for the founder’s title. Paul nosily scanned our entry forms. ’ There was a hint of mockery in his voice and I instantly regretted divulging this information.
The fittings were wooden and tasteful. I noticed a rack of swords on the wall. All the students knelt respectfully as the teacher, a middle-aged Japanese man with a crew cut, spoke in a soft voice. Frank, Chris and I sat down on some seats at the side, provided for watching. Two students jumped up, one holding a knife and the other a sword. On a word of command they both charged the teacher like madmen possessed. The teacher looked bored, impassive. I felt I was watching nothing special, and then suddenly the one with the knife was flying through the air and the teacher was holding the sword and pinning an attacker to the ground with its tip.
I wasn’t fat but I didn’t have much muscle. My chest was almost entirely lacking pectoral development, and there wasn’t much hair on it either. Fortunately we wouldn’t have to train in the nude. The dojo training room consisted of a big hall laid with traditional tatami mats, over two hundred in number, covered in rubberized canvas to facilitate the easy removal of sweat and blood. At the ‘beginner’s end’ there was a huge mirror, ten metres long by five metres high. Every day it was polished spotless using newsprint and solvent glass cleaner.