It was distinctively human. It was odious and spiteful in the way that dog poo can never achieve no matter how hard it tries. This human poo sat and brooded opposite the door. The smell of a human poo baking in the summer sun in an alleyway that was already less than fragrant is not to be sniffed at. It was valiantly putrid; obtusely invasive and intensfied as the days continued.
Within a few days it began to crust over and we thought we might recieve a respite from the daily horror of passing it into the venue. It formed a dark, black, Guinness like crust which we hoped would seal the devil inside it. Unfortunately, during the night, something unseen must have crashed into it and broke the protective casing, allowing a new wave of tragedy to rinse our senses.
As the days progressed, the intermittent Edinburgh rain washed the poo. In it's sheltered position in the alleyway, the poo was protected from being washed away but was rinsed into a larger surface area. A liquid smear. Poo soup. Stagnating in the alleyway and putting us off our lives, and punters off our show.
I tell you this, to assure you, that I have seen some disgsuting things in my life and in particular at the Edinburgh Festival. Yesterday, I saw something that trumped it all. Sitting in one of my favourite food spots, I turned to look at the meal and the drinks being provided to the people at the table next to us.
I saw two, fully grown adults, being served traditional fish and chips, along with a beer each, and a pint of milk. A pint of milk each, to drink with their fish and chips and alternate with their beer.
I felt physically sick. The space in my head labelled "Most Rancid Thing You've Ever Seen" switched suddenly from the abnormally large outdoor poo in the alleyway, to a new video clip of a man with a milk moustache putting mushy peas in his mouth and washing it down with some beer. Over and over again the cycle continued... bit of fish, a chip (generously smothered in vinegar) big gulp of milk and a sip of beer.
WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH HAS A PINT OF MILK WITH THEIR DINNER IN A RESTAURANT?
... AND ADDS A BEER?!
Milk is for Coco Pops. Not battered fish.
Milk is for bed times. Not a beer chaser.
Chips are for soaking up alcohol. Not floating in a milky fish soup in your rapidly curdling bellyfull.
Milk is for babies. Not people paying on credit cards.
Beer is for parties and barbecues. Not replacing Kahlua in a tummy cocktail party.
Milk is from cows. Fish is from the sea. Unless you're eating a sea cow, you should not be having milk with it.
I always thought it would be a politician that made me finally give up my faith in people, but, if that was you in that restaurant with that milk and that meal then please know it was you.