This had to be first. Somehow it was too cute to be offensive. I bite. What a relief. It tastes like pork crackling, good pork crackling, swathed in spice mixture. Probably the only one I'd actually eat again Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
This is far more disturbing. I start with the tail, which is too crispy to taste of anything. I think about stopping there, but go on for a bite of the belly. It's squidgy, and the legs tickle my lips. My better senses kick in and I drop it from my mouth. Unfortunately, there are three more on the stick so I try again. They're bitter, really bitter, the taste of something that you'd only eat as a last resort. The taste of something that's not meant to be eaten Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
I don't even know what this is. I haven't seen it in any of the guidebooks I've read. It's very long, about ten inches, and very thin, with a pair of large black eyes at the top of a short snout. At first, it's OK. The texture reminds me almost exactly of those cheap Chip Sticks they sell in low-range newsagents. Unfortunately it then becomes really sour in the mouth and I need beer to wash it down Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
Now we're getting serious. This is a beast, no disguising it. It's been hollowed out, so I don't have to worry about the guts, just the flesh. I bite the back. And it's good, fine. Bolstered by the fact that it just doesn't taste of anything, I eat a leg too Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
This should really be good. It looks like a fancy lollipop. Turns out it's foul, absolutely foul, really, gut-wrenchingly disgusting. Like eating All Bran soused in filthy sea-water. It's laced through with grit, and has thousands of crispy hairs on the underside Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
I left this to last, because I was most worried about it. It's really fat, like the cocktail sausages Satan has on offer in Hell's reception room. There are four on my stick. I bite the head off the first and ... phew. It's crisp. I chew. Oh God, that's rancid. I look down to see a large black vein drooping out of the remaining chunk. I gag, drink some beer, gag again. It takes all the self restraint I can muster to stop myself vomiting Photograph: Dan Chung/Guardian
