This may not be an appropriate place to tell this story, but I think Pat would enjoy it, so here goes.

A friend of mine--folkie kinda guy, singer-songwriter with many excellent songs to his credit and many records/CDs was going to get married. (This took place in NYC many decades ago.) Anyway, the boys took him out for three days of partying--read drinking, pickled eggs, knuckles, chili, etc. On his wedding day he was deliverd to the church--delivered being the operative word. They were wed. He and his new wife went to their place to celebrate their new marriage in the traditional manner.

He arrived back at the party about an hour later looking for a place to stay. His missus had thrown him out on their wedding night. Of course, everyone wanted to know what had happened. He told us that he and she were undressed and about to get involved in the deed when he felt a fart coming on. He was polite and he said excuse me to his love, lifetd his leg and

crapped the bed. She was furious and he left while she was throwing things at him. We were in tears by that point and we got him cleaned up--he smelled like shit--and continued the party for a few days. They were eventually reunited. She was a lovely gal, BTW.