I'm rather partial to southern Thai cuisine, in particularly the curries.
The aromatic blend of a thousand and one different herbs and spices encased in a rich and creamy coconut milk based soup has one's senses performing enthusiastic cart-wheels towards the source of the fragrant bouquet.
The colouration of the dish alone deems it unrivalled in terms of vibrancy, and once supplemented with the protein of your choice (chicken, fish, shrimp et al) it quickly becomes an integral part of any southeast Asian culinary spread.
So when such a plate of fare was placed before me last week, I left my table manners at the door and found myself in the midst of a feral feeding frenzy. Hurricane Slap currently graced the roadside restaurant and only subsided for brief periods during which obnoxious belches of appreciation would be parted with, much to the horror of my disgusted dining companions.
Upon the cessation of the repast, I cocked a deft buttock, released an abhorrent amount of rectal gas, paid the crook at the counter, bundled aboard my bike, hit the local shop, got tipsy on award winners, and fucked off home to sleep.
It was during this slumber that I began having the most bizarre dreams.
I was caught in a whitewater river of yellow curry, struggling for breath as the torrent kept submerging me again and again. Having managed to weather the rapids, I then found myself in purgatory, and emitting a seemingly never ending burp. Once the burp had finally stopped, my dream shifted focus and this time began to pay attention to my backside which was now convulsing with boisterous twitches.
Jolting to in a cold sweat I began sprinting to the toilet.
Too late.
I simultaneously projectile puked and shit myself on the home straight.
The rest of the day was spent in bed, swearing at random inanimate objects, and swearing revenge on the fucker who hadn't bothered washing their hands before preparing my food.
Savages!
The very sight of this makes me want to use the lavatory.