I sallied this morning little aware of the monstrous turdage I hauled. Even after manifesting heavily into the sewerage facilities of two clients' houses, I felt yet the meaty pang of a stuffed gut. What cruelties I might inflict! Sat here, in a house of my debtors, I ruminate now upon brute fragrance. Or is it best reserved for my own olfactory audience alone, the cosy glee of passing load from one inner sanctum to another?