Right, now that the pleasantries are over, could I ask you to please stop shnarfing our rhino horn in the deluded belief that it can cure hangovers. It does nothing of the sort, you idiots. If it did, I would be the first to hoover up a gram or two every morning. Do you think the pharmaceutical companies would let a miracle cure slip by purely on ethical grounds? Please. These companies have the moral backbone of a box jellyfish.

You might be interested to know that some of our game reserve owners have begun injecting their rhino horns with poison. You don’t want to put this stuff in your morning tea, mate. It will make your eyeballs bubble and burst like a couple of microwaved eggs. Don’t take it personally. We aren’t out to hurt you. It’s just that you can’t seem to get the message and we are coming to the conclusion that the only language you understand, apart from Vietnamese, is pain.

You’re an odd people, aren’t you. Even though you have one of the fastest-growing economies in the world, you still think it’s a sign of wealth and breeding to go to a restaurant and order a nicely grilled chunk of the house’s best dog. It must seem unbelievable to you that we give names to our dogs, let them sleep on our beds and feed them with no ulterior motive in mind.

If you ever visit South Africa, it’s quite possible you will hear someone say: “I really love my dog.” Try to avoid adding: “Mmm! Me too. Especially with fried rice and boiled gerbil penis.”

I read this week that Thai authorities had stopped a shipment of 300 dogs across the Mekong River destined for the restaurants of Vietnam. Apparently they are stocking up ahead of your traditional New Year on January 23. Oh, how I wish I could be there for the festivities. Goblets of snake wine and platters of spaniel all served under a giant glitter ball made entirely from the eyes of Peruvian night monkeys. Happy New Year!

Apparently the dog price has rocketed in recent months. What are you people eating over there – Tibetan mastiffs? Guide dogs? Whatever happened to the good old days when you could head down to the Cho Ben Thanh market on a Friday night and have a small Chow for no more than a fistful of dong?

It seems your menfolk believe dog meat brings good luck (not to the dog, obviously) and makes them more virile. This doesn’t say much for the women. “You’re looking particularly masculine tonight, mister. And your stinky dog-breath is really turning me on. My place or yours?”

Let me be clear on this. Animal parts will never cure anything or make you a better lover. Eating a koala bear’s spleen will not bring good fortune upon your family, nor will smoking crushed seal testicles upsize your little Asian willy. You’re communists, goddammit. Act accordingly.

Vietnam is a fabulous country with a lot going for it. You have a space programme, an oil industry and your heroin is among the finest in the world. That’s more than I can say for us. We do, however, have 443 dead rhinos that were poached in 2011.

So here’s the deal. We make 2012 the year that you give up the rhino horn and stay off the dogs and in return we will support your child labourers by continuing to buy those dreadful shoes you keep sending us.