When I was a wee scrote
I was tasked with taking out the garbage. It was a fairly thankless task and in my eyes akin to slavery. I lived in a hot country and it wasn't uncommon to lift the lid of the wheelie bin and discover it teeming with wriggling white maggots. My usual reaction was to just shove the old bag on top. However, on one occasion I spotted a glass jar at the top of the bag I was throwing out. So in a divine moment of inspiration I decided to collect the crawling creatures by using the lid of the jar to flick them inside. I must have collected about 30 of these slimy writhing creatures all told.

Now I would be the first to admit I wasn't an expert on maggots, but I was bright enough to know they probably needed to oxygen. So using my pen knife I carefully punched some holes in the lid making sure that they were just large enough to let some air in, but no maggots could escape. Then I set the jar atop the window sill and began to dream about the day when my pets would metamorphose into a beautiful squadron of loyal flies.

It soon became apparent that being a maggot farmer was more difficult than I had realised. They became lethargic and barely moved after one day. I surmised that they were probably hungry so I dropped random bits of food into their enclosure. At first I tried a bit of bacon, because after all who doesn't like bacon. They acted disinterested and became more comatose. This was in the pre-internet days so my attempts at salvation were guided only by my logical thought process. What would I want to eat if I was a maggot? In my increasing desperation to see my project to fruition I then went through all the various food groups with little success. Fruits, vegetables, assorted meats and finally sweets, which aren't an actual food group as such, but at this stage I was desperate.

Finally after a week of feeding, the occasional jar shake to make them wake up, and many motivational speeches I had to concede defeat. I also gave up on the notion that perhaps they would eat each other if hungry enough. I ended up with a jar of what looked like soggy rice crispies. With a heavy heart I trudged out to the garden to dispose of my minions. I opened the jar and for some reason I thought to myself, "mmm...I wonder what a jar of maggots smells like". I put the jar up to my nose and took a great big sniff and almost instantly I realised the error of my ways. The smell hit me so hard I went into a mini spasm and lost control of the jar spilling it's contents onto the lawn in front of me. Then I felt my stomach contract and with little debate the lunch in my stomach decided to part ways and make it's way to freedom. Hunched over double I lurched and puked all over the maggot grave yard. Thankfully I was able to contain the second and third convulsions better, but the memory of the putrid smell left a bitter taste in my mouth for some time afterwards.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 23 Dec 2011, 13:15, Reply)