Imagine sticking a straw down the throat of a goldfish and blowing.
Then blowing some more. And you only stop blowing when the goggle-eyed fish looks as if it’s finally about to pop.
That’s what I was staring at in little plastic bags hanging outside the shops in Hong Kong’s aptly named Goldfish Street. Behind their massively misshapen heads were tiny fins that flapped aimlessly as they tried to steer the bulbous bulk around. A …