Lamb Passanda....

Having spent the majority of the day making pungent air biscuits, i find myself sat here wondering what was it that has caused such highly flammable fumes to be circulating around my pad?

It can't have been the copious amount of vodka i was drinking as this is perfectly normal (theres goes another rumble tickleing as it leaves!) for a saturday night.

The only difference was that the only food vendor i could find on the way home was an indian takeaway.

Lamb Passanda must be the offender...

Then i start to ask myself which indian recipe would produce the best effect? Call it a science experiment if you will, but i'm sure we have the answers??

Any ideas?
I usually prefer the flavour of a Jalferezei release, although I personally am able to float a variety of flavours from my cosmopolitan tastes. Or to put it another no matter what I eat I fart like a race horse!
Lamb phal with a side order of green chilli pakora.

Extreme downwind hazard with underwear presenting considerable residual vapour hazard for at least 24 hrs.
Phal is for maniacs.

I had one in Colchester at the end of a boozy night. Pure bravado and having made such a song and dance about having it I couldn't back out when I nearly retched at the first taste. I had to shovel every last forkful down under the gaze of those smarter than me who had opted for something edible and who had had to listen to me larging it about how I could hack any sort of curry.

Well it was bad enough choking the sulphurous sh1te down whilst trying not to whimper. Next morning though; oh my God. The pain and the stench were unbelievable. Sad to say I was not man enough to remain at work and in fact maintained a position no further than 10 yards from the bog for the duration of that day.

Oh how I laughed.


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it's never a single dish but the combination of food and drink.

For best results plenty of vegetable in the curry combined with a nice beer, Dark Island(orkney brewery) or MAcEwans Export.
Tiger phaal will usually mobilise the guts but can cause liquescent releases. For a good old fashioned woofty, I swear by Lamb Bhuna with tarka dal (made from otters!)...
I will have to go with the phal option. I went through a phase of minimum phal nights in my early twenties. As so wisely mentioned previously, it was pure bravado. On one occasion in the Shahi Balti situated in the picuresque town of Nuneaton, I took up the offer of a suicide phal, which if I ate it, I got it and my drinks for free. I did it, but the other customers complained about the levels of my swearing and the next day was like a scene from dante's inferno. My sphinny jones was like a car cigarette lighter glowing in the dark. I had to take the top off the cystern and dunk the trap paper in the cold water to diffuse my hoop. It was horrific, I had about 8 hours ring trauma the following day, and the toilets resembled the buncefield oil depot fire, AKA George Best's cremation.


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boelynbulldog said:
I usually prefer the flavour of a Jalferezei release, although I personally am able to float a variety of flavours from my cosmopolitan tastes. Or to put it another no matter what I eat I fart like a race horse!
Hear, hear. Friday was our departmental Christmas curry lunch. As usual I ate Jalfrezi. As usual, on Saturday afternoon I was accused of still reeking of garlic. Which was nice, cos I then dropped an industry-sixed portion of garlic into the chilli I was making.

I doubt I was pleasant company (is this why the family all watched the TV from the other end of the room?). I wouldn't know - lost my sense of smell two years ago.
Quick update - my hoop is still at least as good as yesterday - if not better, in both volumne and stench.

Now what did i eat yesterday?.......
I'm not sure what tops the toxicity/noxiousness scale, but for sheer volume of gas produced, curried cabbage wins hands down.
Back in my dangerously curious student days, it occured to me, that curried cabbage could very well be the enthusiastic trumpers Nirvana.
I was right!.
Within fifteen minutes of downing a large plateful, my stomach was bloated up like a carictature Cambodian, and I managed a prolonged trouser whistle which must have yielded at least a litre of methane.
Gaseous production increased to about a litre every three minutes, and continued for four hours.
Obviously, I regret my thoughtless contribution to global warming, and the blame for hurricane Katrina sits squarely at my feet, but I still experience a flush of pride when I think back to that night, and I like to think that in some small way, I have advanced mans bio-chemical knowledge base.
If ever near a Korean restaurant, try the daikon kimchee. Basically, big radish buried in the shyt that is Korean soil until it goes rotten. Best savoured in Korea as there are side dishes that enhance the effect.

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