The word ganbei makes me want to run for the hills.

After reading Erik Nilsson's guide to banquet survival (June 30th), I went back and had a look at some of the notes I've jotted down from going to these alcohol soaked events over the years.

I think I can say, with all honestly, that baijou is possibly the worst thing I've ever tried to drink - and over the years, I've tried everything. In Moscow, I had Vodka that seemed to have been distilled in a tractor engine, which was like diesel oil sprinkled with pepper.

I've had fermented horses' milk (which was like yoghurt mixed with rocket fuel), potheen and moonshine (illegally distilled whiskeys), drinks made of fermented potato juice, and all of them failed miserably to kill me.

Baijou on the other hand almost succeeded.

It seems like an innocent enough idea, to ferment alcohol from sorghum, millet and barley. On paper it looks like a great mix.

But in reality it all goes horribly wrong.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I don't like baijou - it just doesn't like me.

My father-in-law is always keen to get me to try a mouthful of whatever baijou he's drinking, but I just can't.

I can't even get the glass up to my lips.

The smell of baijou is unique; I've never encountered anything like it. I can smell a bottle being opened in the furthest corner of a room - it will cut through a fog of cigarette smoke like a knife. Add that to the highest alcohol content I've seen on a label (in some cases, well over 50 percent!), and you'll begin to understand why I avoid it.

My eyes water as the alcohol fumes boil off the surface of the liquid, searing their way through my cornea. My nose runs as the smell grabs my nostrils and yanks them open as wide as jet intakes.

My lip quivers, trying to crawl back up my face, desperate to get away from the horrors it fears await it.

The first time I tried baijou was not long after I'd landed in China. At a welcoming banquet, I was handed a small glass of what I, at first, thought to be paint stripper.

I immediately handed it back to the host, saying that I wasn't going to fall for any tricks involving drinking things that no one else would.

He then sank the glass in one go, and proceeded to pour down several others, all the while extolling the virtues of this wonder drink.

So I steeled myself, and, to the cry of "ganbei", I drank my first baijou.

My body reacted as if it'd been poisoned, with my throat restricting, my face reddening, and my eyes and nose watering. My stomach churned the liquor over, as if attempting to forcibly eject it as fast as possible and everyone at the table applauded.

That was it for me and baijou. After that, I couldn't face it again.

Over the years, I've tried to introduce Chinese friends to Scotch, and other whiskies, but they don't like the taste or smell of those - which suggests to me that your tipple of choice is definitely a cultural thing.

So, whilst Erik suggests either just taking a sip of it, or indicating that you can't really go another round of toasts, I'd suggest a different approach.

I just tell my hosts that I don't drink alcohol. It's a terrible lie, I know, butit does mean that I don't have any "lost days" or terrible hangovers!

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