My Ma was fond of quoting a Limerick which went thusly:
There was an old lady from Ryde
Who ate a bad apple and died
The apple fermented
Inside the lamented
And made cider inside her inside
I can’t imagine that the resulting cider was anything to write home about, unless, perhaps, the lady in question was given to eating cider apples, a subject about which I am now somewhat more informed, having attended last weekend’s cider-making festival in Hereford.