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Rice gives me gas. It’s not the only thing that does, but it does, and it does so rather well.

On Sunday, my partner made dinner with rice. Great, I thought, I like rice. On Monday, my workplace canteen’s lunch included rice. “Oh dear”, I thought. On Tuesday, they had a different meal, again with rice. I was getting worried. Yesterday, though, their lunch was rice–free. However, last night, my partner cooked, and her meal had rice.

Right now, I’m not sure which has more gas: myself, or the North Sea.