Going back to the 1980's, the tart I was with was renting out her spare room to a Canpbeltown man. I won't mention his name as I don't want to cause embarrassment to any family that might remain.
Now, the tart I was with fancied herself as some sort of chef, the truth was she couldn't cook sh*t.
One day she served up a curry, she always maintained that the top dropped off the chilli powder tub accidentally, I say it's because she was skaddled.
I couldn't eat the curry, one mouthful set me on fire. However, the Campbeltown man spooned it down and not a bead of sweat was seen on his forehead, he didn't even wince, the whole lot went down without a even a tiny grimace.
After he'd finished I said, "Wullie, did you not notice that was a wee bit warm ?"
"No", he said, "That was a mighty meal".