Trust the French. I have just checked and this p-word for a sort of artillery does indeed have the same root as the French word for breaking wind. Not inappropriate but very French.
The point being that we have at least two cases of being hoist by our own colonial petards.
Firstly, all those people in darkest Africa whom we taught to manage with just one wife and to fear God are coming back to the mother ship to push us back onto the straight and narrow. I believe quite a number of our pastors are of this variety, while noting that the Archbishop of York does not really count as he was a lawyer back home and only got ordained when he jumped ship for England.
Secondly, once upon a time the 7th Light Dorsets were stationed in Banglalore, where they introduced the locals to the delights of scotch eggs - which like many apparently traditionally Scottish items were eaten in most of the peripheral, poorer parts of the Three Kingdoms. They have now come back full circle and are served in Lal Qilla in Lyme Regis (http://www.lalqillalyme.co.uk/). Said to be a traditional dish from Rajasthan with a taste which is deliciously sensational and which defies description. I thought it was pretty good: gently spicy and moistened with a gently spicy brown sauce; a definite improvement on the original. So good in fact that there is a whole web site devoted to variations on the theme: http://www.nargiskebab.co.uk/.
PS: I discarded the slice of lemon in its natty little squeezing contraption. Might be natty but I am not keen on lemon juice on my food. Don't understand it at all.
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