Following surgery I had a spell working in the force control room while I recuperated.
Anyhoo, one night I had bad guts, really bad guts, and I was chundering out some spectacularly grim farts that would have had any passing WW1 vets reaching for the mustard gas cream and respirator.
I clock off at 7 to head home, returning at 1900 the same day. The day shift bobby grimly told me that the foam in my chair had absorbed a vast amount of my flatulence and every time he shifted in the seat a new wave of guff gas was released. Apparently people were coughing and gagging on it well past midday.
I was pretty chuffed! However, the day shift inspector, a stuck up but actually really decent Sandhurst graduate, soberly informed me that Britian was a signatory to the Geneva Protocol of 1925 and that I had been in danger of triggering a serious diplomatic incident.