Be Careful When You Cast Out Demons That You Don't Throw Away The Best of Yourself

That Time A Demon Tried to Crawl Out From Inside of Me

Eurgh.

I am suffering with a case of mild food poisoning, dear readers.

This is what you get for ordering an Indian takeaway from Just Eat in the middle of Leicester city centre.

It honestly feels like some evil creature is trying to escape - rather forcefully - from my poor, broken body.

This.  Right Here. #perfect

I was at Law School this weekend and had to suffer through all of Sunday with my stomach making suspicious gurgling noises and sharp pains in my side.  This did not make it easy to focus on my revision lectures (on a side note exams are now less than a month away - don't know how that happened!).

Instead of listening to what was, undoubtedly, fantastic exam advice from my knowledgeable and patient tutors, I was exercising all of my brain and will power to prevent any explosive incidences in the back of the classroom.  My stomach actually aches from all the clenching.

I made it through 5 hours of lectures and that was no mean feat, let me tell you.

...I then had a three hour drive home.

This was somewhat harder as the gaseous build up had been so intense that my stomach was now painfully bloated.  Each and every bump in the road brought me one step closer to disgracing myself.

There comes a point, dear readers, in every adult's life in which they have to admit that they are unsure whether the pressure they next feel in their nether regions is purely gas in formation or whether there may be more substance than first indicated.  It becomes a personal choice as to whether the risk is taken but I was less than 50% sure that I knew the answer and did not want to risk ruining my beloved jeans and/or driver's seat.

Besides, we all know the phrase 'farts are a bit like love...if you have to force it, then it is probably shit'.

See?!

...no? Just me? Ah.  Moving swiftly on then!

You may be relieved to hear that I did not have any embarrassing incidences on the journey home.

But my house mate did give me a somewhat strange look when I arrived home only to barrel past her throwing 'hi, talk later, bai' over my shoulder before holing myself up in the bathroom for the better part of 20 minutes.

Sweet, sweet relief.

This has been part of the Firstflier: TMI series.

You. Are. Welcome.

&&Fin.