gas gas gas

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.