Revolting
My wife ate one on a trip to France a few years ago. Not at a fine restaurant, not at a charming rural bistro, not even at a farmer's table. She got it from an Autogrill on the motorway. I warned her. I warned her again. "You won't like that, babe, it's very strong."
"Shut up, I want a sausage."
"You won't enjoy it."
"Yes I bloody well will, look, it's clearly delicious."

She bought it, and scarfed the lot. The look on her face pretty much mirrored your experience but, God bless her, she's incredibly stubborn and wasn't going to prove me right.

I had to drive the next four hours with the windows down, feeding her polos and wrigleys from an endless supply I bought on the way out. I didn't kiss her for two days afterwards, but she managed to breathe on me at every opportunity.

Disgusting.
( Scrumper, Mon 26 Sep 2011, 15:28, 3 replies)

*click*
For inducing stifled office chuckles.
(ThatNiceMan thought he was being funny, Mon 26 Sep 2011, 15:38, closed)

Yep. We had an evening flight home that day
But checkout of our hotel was 11am. So we had to kill three or four hours in a rather fine Parisian café and I had the genius idea of ordering one. I'd recently bought an organic farm-shop pork joint over here, and it smelled about the same - just very porky. It was only on eating that it revealed its piggy faecal charms.

I didn't feel ill, exactly, but I did have a spot of indigestion on the plane home. I wouldn't go so far as to say it was disgusting, just an almost Olympically heroic to acquire taste. Like most Olympic sports, utterly pointless - who really needs to be good at the triple jump except triple jumpers. Who needs to be able to eat andouillettes when other sausages containing appreciably less pigshit are also available?

If any B3tan was the poor unfortunate sitting next to me on the EasyJet flight from Charles de Gaulle to Bristol, I apologise profusely for my pigshit-scented burps.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Mon 26 Sep 2011, 15:42, closed)

My brother was once fed chicks'n'chips at a Staffordshire workmate's home.
When he learned that the 'chicks' were battered and deep-fried pig intestines, he found that no matter how hard he tried to swallow them, they repeatedly slid back up. His very gullet rejected them. That was a very long meal.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Tue 27 Sep 2011, 18:29, closed)