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@deleted
I was in Marseilles.
In my excitement at arriving there I ate some lukewarm bouillabaisse at a dodgy eaterie just at closing wanting to soak up the local ambience and cuisine. I'm a cosmopolitan chap like that.
It wasn't right. I didn't feel terrible, but also, not great, and didn't shit for the entire duration of my stay, despite still feeling hungry and having regular feeds. Which was over a week. Unfortunately for my travelling companion I was releasing sulfurous farts that smelled like distilled seaweed juice mixed with sewage runoff and fermenting crabs. Which is funny, because I think that is what my bouillabaisse could have actually been made from.
At night we'd be out and about having a civilised pastis on a nice chique terrace bar and I have to deflate the balloon so to speak and suddenly the distinguished clientele were looking around at each other wild eyed and fearful that their companions would blame them for the ungodly cloud of arse toxins that was lingering like nuclear fallout, meanwhile I was angel faced and looking knowingly at my mate who was trying not to retch.
Not even a cheeky cigar, a few bottles of lukewarm Kro and a pint of espresso in the hotel would dislodge the dead turbot that had stuck itself in my ass, and to this day I have a sense of bewonderment that the human body is able to produce such emissions whilst not also being in the process of dying.
The end.