Trotters
I once shared a house with a man who was so vile that I considered having him condemned by the local council. He absolutely stank to high heaven - of BO and feet - at all times, but the Summer was a nightmare. It was so bad that you could smell if he was home or not as soon as you opened the front door. He also had disgusting eating habits - everything he ate was cooked in a deep fat fryer (the fat was never changed) apart from the fatal day when he decided to use the oven to cook his scrumptious dinner of pigs' trotters. I'm not joking. I opened the oven to pop in my own dinner and there were what I thought were two human hands poking out of a ceramic bowl - I nearly screamed the house down.
(Mad McMad, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 12:34, Reply)