This is a sport which changed its Olympic format, and basically re-invented itself, to enormous effect. The contest has now become adversarial, with competitors facing off in head-to-head battles, after a ranking round, which make for considerably more interesting viewing. It’s set-based, with each competitor firing three arrows, alternately. The highest total score wins the set, and gets two points – one each if the scores are level. First to five points wins. It’s elegant in its simplicity, easy to understand and follow.

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It’s that time of the four-year cycle again. Except, thanks to COVID, it has been five years since the last Olympics. Not that you’d know it from all the signage in Japan, which sternly insists these are the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. Still, it’s time to slump in front of the TV, and become instant experts, passing harsh criticism on the failure of a gymnast to stick the landing. Another Dorito? Don’t mind if I do. But while the schedule is dominated by swimming, athletics and gymnastics, we get our greatest pleasure on the fringes. We enjoy watching the sports you never really see the rest of the time.

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Trash City witnesses the latest developments in America’s mutant phenomenon

Chris: “America. Land of opportunity. Land of the free. And in the American Southwest, home to a modern marvel. Those who have power misunderstood by mere mortals. Those whose power defies most of the forces of nature – gravity, co-ordination, balance and speech. And all this at speeds up to 75 miles per hour!”

Leo: “The opening of the film X-Men was exciting for me. I got to see the silver-screen realization of a long awaited dream, my favorite superheroes portrayed by actors and armed with eye-popping, computer generated abilities. It occurred to me after I saw the movie, that there are superheroes all around us, in our neighborhoods and in our towns, that we don’t typically pay much attention to.”

Amy:“They don’t have fancy costumes or computer generated powers that dazzle the eye, but if you’re quick, you might catch a glimpse as they perform miraculous feats of mutant coordination…all while driving a car. Presumably on their way to some planet-threatening emergency that only they can avert.”

Chris: “We’re talking about Traffic Superheroes, speed demons who must drive and multi-task at the same time. We’ve all seen them, but we never really realized that the person driving next to us, donning their makeup, drinking their coffee, eating their breakfast (hell, cooking their breakfast!), dressing, speaking on the phone and simultaneously driving, are masters of powers simply beyond our comprehension. My brother, his wife and I have been taking notice of these secret superheroes that are overlooked by the general public (unless they happen to have an encounter of the head-on collision kind with one of them).

Leo: “Some of you, although residing far from here, may recognize these names and descriptions quite vividly from one or more times you have crossed paths with them. For one of their most interesting powers is the ability to be in several places at once, since there have been sightings, at the same moment, thousands of miles apart. It stumps the experts how these creatures have developed hyper-warp, trans-dimensional field travel, but we hope to one day figure that out.”

Amy: “We have decided that it is necessary to expose these superheroes to the world by their true names, in order that the rest of the population can pay homage to these beings, or perhaps just send their lawyer after them. So, in honour of all the mutants out there, who grace our presence daily with displays of super-human coordination near break-neck speed, and unusual activities, here is a partial list of those we have spied in our travels. Maybe you’ve seen them too…”

Breakfast Man Able to eat breakfast, have his coffee, even cook breakfast, then eat it while driving. Is somehow able to eat cereal, drive his car, and even perform U-turns without spilling his milk.

Investment Man The power to have the entire business section of the newspaper spread out in front of him, with a cell phone in his ear, trading stocks over the phone all while barreling down the road at 55 miles per hour.

Turban Man Amazing!! Can drive and wrap nine hundred yards of material around his head. Fortunate, since it was necessary to wait till he was actually in the vehicle and driving in the speed lane to accomplish this. Watch in awe as he spins yards and yards of fabric around his head (Ooops! watch those eyes!), under his chin and across his forehead, never taking his foot off the accelerator, not even once!

Greased Lightning Granny Faster than a speeding golfcart! More powerful than extra-strength incontinence pads! Look out! She’s on the road and no red traffic light holds dominion over her. No stop sign even slows her down. It’s Greased Lightning Granny!

Make-Up Lady Shifting gears is no problem for this on-the-go cosmetic counter attendant (oops! Almost revealed her true identity), as she can accurately apply her make-up (even mascara!) and drive simultaneously.

Brain Surgeon Man We’ve all seen this guy. He must be in front of you in traffic (HE MUST), and he gets highly upset if you don’t let him (HIGHLY UPSET), because of the emergency brain surgery (URGENT!!) that awaits him at the hospital. Which happens to be in the opposite direction. Never mind.

The Picker Breakfast for you will not be the same today. No, no. Maybe not the same for a long time, in fact. The Picker will make certain of that. The Picker is an unusual fellow in that he can change his appearance to look like countless people on the highway. You’ve seen him, although you may not have recognized him. The Picker has the ability to grow his breakfast. You know where. And, while mere normal humans such as ourselves shudder with spontaneous and violent disgust, The Picker knows a good one when he digs it out. We have to look at him and yell… “pick me a winner, asshole!”

The Speed Keeper No matter how far up his ass you insert your front end, The Speed Keeper is in control. He knows that your goal is to go beyond the speed limit. His goal is to save your life from the treacherous perils of velocity by going exactly at the speed limit. Those signs are there for a reason, after all. Those signs are there for our health, contrary to popular belief, Mister! Sometimes The Speed Keeper enlists the help of an accomplice or sidekick, pacing each other in adjacent lanes, to deny everyone the right to be Brain Surgeon Man.

Cell Phone Dude Cell Phone Dude is just way too busy for a single minute to go by. Way too busy!!! He must spend every minute that he’s on the road, on the phone as well. His jet-set lifestyle doesn’t permit him to take a break from telecommunicating. Oh, no…people have to hear from him. And it doesn’t matter if he runs you and half of creation off the road while he’s making that very important call. Those cell phone people must hear from him at all costs! He’s got the best equipment for the job at hand, too. Only the best and fastest for jet-setting Cell Phone Dude.

Knuckles Lives in a retirement community and is approximately 8 million years old, but ventures out every so often to teach us the value of decision-making. Knuckles believes that even though his/her left turn is over ten miles away, they are within their right to keep us waiting for the blessed event. Knuckles will invariably slow right down to make sure that pesky junction doesn’t slip past them, and will typically make the turn from the middle or even right lane. Knuckles also owns the biggest car in the world, and can barely see over the steering wheel.

Rubber-Neck If there’s an accident, Rubber-Neck and his kin want every detail from the scene. Rubber-Neck can’t go more than a few miles per hour as he cranes his neck, trying to get a better view from his vantage point behind the wheel. And though Mrs. Rubber-Neck warns him to keep his eyes on the road (they always marry their polar opposites), Rubber-Neck would be remiss in his duties if he didn’t get every detail…after all, someone may one day ask him about the big accident.

Mrs. Discipline Mrs. Discipline can’t keep her kids from taking off their safety belts, but Has mastered the ability to talk without the need to breathe. Thus, these are the things that she says as she’s disciplining her kids while driving on the road (which, by the way, is the best place to educate them).

• “WhereisBobbyshappymealtoy?DidyoustealBobbyshappymealtoy?
• Yougivethatbackthisinstant.Don’tyoubacktalkme.I’mgonnatanyourhide
• COME’ERE!Sallydon’tbiteyourbrother.
• Timmydon’ttouchthat,youdon’tnowwhereit’sbeen.
• Stoppickingatit.It’sgonnagetinfected.Don’tyouspitatme!I’myourmother!
• Takethatoutofyourmouthrightnow!
• AndPUTYOURDAMNSEATBELTON!!!!”

Can’t Find It Guy Can’t Find It Guy, just can’t find it. But he’s gonna try his hardest to locate it while he’s driving all over the road right in front of you. Is the brother of…

Kickin’ EQ In The Glove Box Dude Must keep adjusting the levels of ear-shattering volume that his car stereo puts out, ever in search of what the salesman called the “Nirvana Level of EQ Serendipity”. This is the exact combination of channels that his EQ controls, which will produce the perfect sound for every song. Unfortunately, every time he gets close to NLEQS, the song ends and he has to start all over again. Has the EQ cleverly hidden in the glove box (shhh), so thieves won’t know it’s there. If they do break into his car, they’ll never think to look there, cuz who would ever think of putting an EQ in the glove box, anyway? Right?

Chris: “These are just a few. There are many more out there. We have borne witness to all these on the road over the years and are sure there are more, interesting and dangerous examples out there, all over this TC World. We want to know who these people are. Let us know if you’ve seen any, we’d love to add to this list… Expose them.. tell us your Traffic Superheroes stories.”

Chris Fata – North American Ambassador.
Aided and assisted by the Trash City American Eyewitnesses (currently under the TC Witness Protection Program to protect their identities from vengeful Traffic Superheroes for exposing them): Leo Morales & Amy Drake

“A moonsault is harder than you think, especially when wearing a 30 pound rubber suit…”

Take a handful of superhero shows, and add the insanity of professional wrestling. Over-cook until viewer’s brains liquefy. Add Japanese commentary and cardboard buildings to taste. Stir. Welcome to the world of Kaiju Big Battel.

What is Kaiju Big Battel? Well, “Kaiju” means mysterious beast in Japanese. For a fuller answer, TC went to the web-site, where this very question was posed. And the answer? “Look out! Danger Can Happen! Kaiju have the many monsters which are making destruction the whole city! Also in the fair fight, the referee Justice keeping Dr.Cube from throw building at the mighty Silver Potato! See bizarre wrestling matches between gigantic absurd monsters! Watch Tokyo-style monster movie erupt into real life performance-art lunacy!...”

At this point, TC decided to give up on the fuller answer thing, and go lie down in a darkened room for a bit. On our return, we headed for David Borden, the commercial monster of the Kaiju empire. Fortunately, he was inhabiting a concurrent dimension…

What is Kaiju Big Battel?

We Are Monsters! Kaiju Big Battel is a Boston based monster/wrestling performance and media group which stages elaborately bizarre wrestling matches and other events featuring hand-built Japanese-style monsters. The “battels” are a ludicrous pop-culture hybrid of American pro-wrestling, Japanese monster mayhem, and B-movie antics. To fund monster creation and metropolitan destruction, Kaiju Big Battel produces and distributes its own merchandise including videos, trading cards, lunch boxes and a whole lot of other cool but useless, limited edition collectibles. Visit www.kaiju.com. for more information.

Why do you do this? Are you all entirely mad?
We are a bunch of (slightly mad) people who never grew up, and would rather play fight than get real 9-5 jobs.

Where did the original idea come from?
There was no one original idea, it just evolved into what it is over time. Still, the beginning of Kaiju Big Battel was to make a short video of two monsters fighting to the death in a cityscape – like an Ultraman battle. Then someone asked if we wanted to do a live performance, so we accepted the offer, added two more monsters, and a Japanese narrator just for the hell of it. It took on a life of its own after that.

The first show was on Halloween Night, 1994. What was the audience reaction to it like?
People ate it up. Perhaps they were a little liquored, but they were cheering and screaming. Still, they thought we were crazy for wearing the suits because it was 100 degrees in the space, and we were having the time of our lives, fighting in the midst of a cardboard mini-metropolis for control of the jack-o-lantern full of Halloween goodies.

“Some of the wrestlers were fond of smashing fluorescent lights over each other, but that’s no longer allowed.”

How often do you do events, and what decides where and when?
We do events whenever we get offers to perform. We do smaller events in addition to the wrestling tournaments, In the past we’ve hosted dance nights, competed in triathlons, played soccer games. The larger wrestling events take place every couple of months.

What are the people behind Kaiju like?
It’s a diverse crowd made up of wrestling fanatics, video game geeks, monster collectors, and the like. Currently, there are about 13 members, most of them graduates of the School of Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

Who creates the amazing costumes?
Rand Borden is the head monster maker. Sometimes others come up with costumes. But, for the most part he probably made about 90% of the Kaijus.

It looks a little dangerous: has anyone ever been injured?
Oh yes, plenty of injuries: a broken heel, two concussions, a dislocated knee, bruised ribs, to name a few. One guy even got light bulb glass stuck in his behind. Some of the wrestlers were fond of smashing fluorescent lights over each other, but that’s no longer allowed. Mama Kaiju says so.

What kind of people come to your shows?
Drunk people. College kids, lots of art students and indie/punk rockers, monster fans, toy geeks and wrestling fanatics. Younger kids too, with their parents, of course. Some sober people too. We often perform in conjunction with live bands, so there are usually a lot of rock and rollers at the shows.

Is there any serious point, or is simply a bit of fun?
Its serious entertainment on our behalf and a lot of fun for the audience (so they tell us).

Are the routines rehearsed or entirely ad-lib?
Both, about half and half. They are rehearsed but then what happens on the stage usually doesn’t end up matching the script. Sometimes, the wrestlers get too tired and decide to die early. The ad-lib stuff usually makes the battels so entertaining.

Do you know what Japanese people think of it all?
They think we’re crazy. Our Japanese friends have told us that such a thing would never happen in Japan, because it’s too active and way too insane in the ring, but they love the costumes and the live battles

How does the spectacular range of merchandising fit in?
It’s both financially and aesthetically important. The merchandise pays for all the costumes and covers all the pragmatic concerns like postage, phone bills, event posters and the like. We’re moving into a new studio/office space and the goods will pay for that too (hopefully). We like to have fun – some of the merchandise, like the Hell Monkey Hot Sauce, is made for spoof purposes only. Didn’t expect people to buy it, but they do: the Hot as Hell flavor is the most popular.

“We all want our own action figures and personalised matching head and wrist bands.”

We thought we would stop after the trading cards, but that’s not the case – we all want our own action figures and personalised matching head and wrist bands! I’m not entirely sure what we enjoy more, making monsters or making monster merchandise. Everything is made in-house except the T-shirts and the video manufacturing. Fortunately, we have access to lots of equipment, like off-set presses, silk-screen facilities, video editing equipment and we love to play around with it all.

We try to make the products and/or the packaging entertaining. Lately, we have been putting a lot more effort into the packaging. As a matter of fact, lately we’ve been putting a lot more effort in the merchandise in general. We’re really intent on improving the quality of the merchandise. Every time we do something, whether it be putting on an event or making new trading cards, we try to “one-up” it from the last effort.

Still, in the future we want to churn out more ridiculous products, like Dino Kang steaks (basically a rubber coated piece of foam in the shape of a large steak, with a Kaiju Big Battel logo on it). The more I think of it, we seem to make most of the products for our own enjoyment. I suppose we should start paying a little more attention to what our fans want, but they seem to like what we like.

What next for Kaiju?
Better, faster, stronger. We have the technology – we just have to figure out how to use it. Currently in the works, we’re bringing Kaiju Big Battel out of Boston and into every TV den in the world. World Monster domination would be best. Still, we’ll settle for a cartoon, pay per view wrestling matches and a few movies.

We all want to smash cities and wrestle for a living. But until the big deals come, we’re working on revamping the Kaiju web site, complete with quick time videos, computer games, and other fun nonsense, as well as producing another video that focuses more on plots and more sophisticated wrestling – we’ve been practising on the mats. A moonsault is harder than you think, especially when wearing a 30 pound rubber suit…

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Kaiju Big Battel: Best Fights
30 min, $15 from www.kaiju.com

…in which a bunch of guys and gals, obsessed equally with Japanese monster movies and professional wrestling, dress up in extremely silly costumes, and hit each other over the head with cardboard buildings for half an hour. So why am I laughing? Why do I have a near-irrepressible urge to buy the Kaiju lunch-box? And – God help me – why am I contemplating coming up with my own silly costume, flying to Boston, and joining in? And all this at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon, without so much as a beer to hand. It must be some kind of viral madness.

The basic principle will be familiar to fans of Godzilla, Mothra and their buddies: Japanese monsters, duking it out. Except in Kaiju, it’s in a wrestling ring, decorated with miniature buildings to be stomped, thrown around or used as weapons, depending on mood. Oh, and these monsters are things like Dust Bunny (with his special attack, the Hide Behind Furniture Hop), Existentialist Automaton and Astro Turufu – who is green, and covered in plastic grass. Think about it.

It was Turufu’s appearance that finally toppled me over from bemusement to amusement, and I began to appreciate the wry introductions for each combatant, the doubtful veracity of the on-screen captions (one bout supposedly took place in “Attica Prison, September 1971”) and the music, unashamedly nicked from Japanese TV series and movies. There are even adverts for monster-endorsed products like Hell Monkey Hot Sauce – which you can now actually purchase through the Kaiju web-site.

You certainly can’t deny the effort involved, with the costumes taking up to seven months to make, and round about twenty monsters in the roster at any one time. Part of the delight is, it’s pitched just right: the concept of Atomic Cannon, a giant camera beast, may seem excessively ludicrous, yet I’ve seen precisely that on a Japanese show. [And it wasn’t the worst: I think the monster bus was more insane. Or perhaps the 60-foot, sailor-suited schoolgirl. I’m not kidding.] Given these, is a “Tropical Fruit Grudge Match” really too bizarre to grasp?

The audience reaction at Kaiju events seems to mirror mine, ranging from bafflement to hysterical laughter, and make no mistake, this is the sort of tape you’ll find either gut-clenchingly funny or totally unamusing. But trust me on one thing: you really haven’t lived until you’ve seen a foam-rubber sandwich (armed with a club, for reasons I leave you to work out) attacking an oversized tin of chicken soup.

I suppose it could be a symptom of watching too many movies, when your choice of holiday is decided by filmic location. But that’s really what this came down to: in the blue corner, fighting for Team Kitsch, is Salzburg, home to singing families governed by ex-nuns. In the red corner, looking suave, sophisticated and somewhat Swiss, is Interlaken: the nearby Schilthorn mountain was Blofeld’s lair in one of the best Bond films ever (albeit starring the worst Bond ever), On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Julie Andrews vs. George Lazenby – an agonising choice by any standard. Interlaken finally won out, and I returned to Switzerland for the first time in almost a decade (readers are referred to the distant depths of TC5 for the details of that previous trip).

In some ways, Switzerland is a good place for any world dictator wannabe, since they have a proven track record in holding your coat (and your bank account) while you exterminate your fellow Europeans. On the other hand, woe betide any pedestrian who dares cross the road, except in the designated places – as I rapidly discovered. I wasn’t exactly taking my life in my hands when I crossed through stationary traffic, and, even though no-one was put at risk or even delayed by my manoeuvre, I was whined at – there’s no other way to describe it – by a local.

But what else would you expect in a town whose economy appears to run largely on Swiss army knives? These are on sale at the butcher, baker and cuckoo-clock maker – the last-named no doubt with a special implement for dealing with obstinate cuckoos. Said clocks are also near-omnipresent, as is chocolate, though the place does boast (in a quiet, Swiss way) a sex shop, engagingly described as “the last sex shop before the Jungfrau”. Otherwise, it has about the trash quota you would expect from a town with a resident population struggling to make 5,000.

As is traditional, TC sampled the local kebab – once we found it (Interlaken only seems to have two fast-food joints, and one of those is, inevitably, McDonalds). Like the town itself, it was pretty but bland, with no chilli sauce on offer, though it came in something closer to a bap than pitta bread, which was an original touch. We give it a C-

We also tried fondue, the main contribution of the Swiss to proper food – ­this discounts chocolate, and also muesli since breakfast is not part of the TC diet. But we like fondue, particularly the meat kind, consisting of a pile of raw flesh, a pot of boiling oil on a burner, and a selection of sauces. With typical Swiss ingenuity, all blame for how the end product tastes shifts onto the consumer, since you do the cooking. While one feels it should be cheaper, because you do most of the work, it is a satisfactorily Neanderthal kind of fare.

Given the severe lack of nightlife (or at least, nightlife that doesn’t involve the Vengaboys), it is perhaps no wonder that Swiss youth have such a fondness for drugs. And graffiti too: rolling through the towns on the (quiet, clean, inevitably spot-on time) train, tagging was at epidemic levels. Yet the phone boxes are pristine, and even have email terminals in them, which would last about five minutes in South London. Go figure. It’s all rather disturbing, as if rebellion is only permitted within rigidly-defined boundaries.

Still, it’s hard to complain in such a magnificent setting: as its name suggests, Interlaken sits on a river running between two lakes – judging by the bizarre colour of the water, these must be named Plax and Listerine. Even grocery shopping is enlivened when there are snow-capped, F-sized Alps at the end of every street. Except on the second day, that is, when we woke to find that the scenery had been kidnapped by SPECTRE, who were demanding the sum of one billion dollars for its return.

Actually, it was merely very misty – this was still unfortunate, as that day was the one slated to go up the Schilthorn, eat in the solar-powered revolving restaurant on top, and plan to take over the world. However, we were saved by, of all things, Swiss television. They are short enough on programming to dedicate an entire channel to footage from cameras on various peaks: MTV, as in Mountain Television. Although this may well sound like the most tedious program ever (and it is, despite an undeniably hypnotic quality, and the odd tourist looning around in picture), it did show that the Schilthorn was more-or-less above the clouds, so we headed off.

The journey itself was an experience…hell, buying the tickets was an experience, but the good thing about languages in Switzerland, is that if you can’t remember the German word, use the French one instead. People are remarkably unfazed when you switch tongue mid-sentence. Er, where was I? Ah, yes – let’s start that one again, shall we?

The journey itself was an experience: train, funicular, mountain railway and cable-car, up to a (literally) breath-taking ten thousand feet above sea level. En route, we passed through the hugely eerie town of Murren, which – maintaining the film theme – would be an ideal location if George Romero ever gets round to any more zombie flicks. At just the right height to be basically in the clouds, it was almost a ghost town: the end of April was too late for skiers and too early for hikers. Not a place to be stuck for the night, we careful noted the departure time of the last funicular out.

Shortly after, we were rotating slowly round at the top of the mountain. With virtually the restaurant to ourselves (clearly, not everyone had discovered Swiss MTV), the waiter approached to enquire about drinks. There was only one possible answer: “vodka martini – shaken not stirred”. The waiter rolled his eyes, for the ten millionth time in his career. This near-schizophrenia over the Bond connection was a marked facet of the place; they seemed almost begrudging of the link. Certainly, a major opportunity was being missed, since the 007 souvenirs available were sadly limited – I would have merchandised the hell out of the Bond connection. CDs, videos, stuffed white cats…

Though if Blofeld put his kitty out at night, he’d have never found it again. For in every direction you looked, there was snow – and moreover, it was white. [Those who feel this is stating the bleedin’ obvious, haven’t experienced the grey substitute we get in London] And if I thought the scenery was good looking up from below, it was utterly amazing from the top, gazing down on a fluffy feather-bed of clouds and Alps, as far as the eye could see. Top of the world, Ma, and another ambition safely ticked off.

And that’s Switzerland: in fifteen words or less, a lovely place to visit, but somehow, I probably wouldn’t want to stay there.