We passed the pavilion and began to climb the hill towards our house when we all noticed a cricketer having a wizzle up against a fence of a nearby house. He wasn’t particularly well hidden – there was just a barely living clump of bush obscuring his dude – but we probably wouldn’t have noticed him had it not been for the fact he was emitting wind with gay abandon.
Read MoreIf you’re reading this and have worked in an office with mostly upper-middle class colleagues but never encountered the sort of lavatory foulness you’d associate with a cholera-infected Mumbai slum you’re in a tiny and very lucky minority.
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