Turns out Chicken 65 (as it was called) was quite nice, and made me think about just how you can have sixty five day old chicken. I mean, if you freeze it, it's not so much of a challenge, right? I reckon I have sixty five day old chicken in my freezer right now. Also, I think I'd be disappointed if that's how it went. I have this whole image of chicken left out in a special room, turning green, then black. No one can enter the room, for it smells that bad, but the chef, in a sealed suit, braves it once a week to find the choicest cut of 65 day old chicken. He used to make whiskey, this chef, so he knows that time is a factor no money can buy. Also, he's drunk, because that explains most of this passage.
Years ago, I saw a cooking show in which the host of it drunk the still beating heart of a snake. Since then, I've always used that as my bar for people and their food: if you turn down the chance to drink the still beating heart of a snake, I feel as if you haven't properly embraced life to its fullest, since if I found myself in that position, I'd do it.
In fact, here's a vid of someone doing that:
As you can see by the look of his face at the end, it promises to be tasty.