Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liver slices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencod's roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to hispalate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.

Happy Bloomsday, everyone! And to hell with the commercialism—though I doubt Joyce would have been surprised.