Stop that
Edward Lear, the 19th century English landscape painter, wrote affectionately of a favorite Duchess who gave enormous dinner parties attended by the cream of society.
One night she let out a ripper of a fart and quick as a flash, she turned her gaze to her stoic butler, standing, as always, behind her. "Certainly, your Grace.", he replied with unhurried dignity, "Which way did it go?"
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