I took a lot of pictures of little sand turds left behind by the receding tide on a beach. Can the last politician to go out the revolving door please turn the lights off?
Probably regarded as great fare by the elites and haute bourgeoisie there.
Hope it's served with a salad.
Else the priviledged spics might get scurvy. "When the abyss stares at me, it wets its pants." Brian Hopkins