Right then, gather round. Here we have a classic case of Nocturnal Philosophical Crisis — also known as "what the bloody hell happens when your brain clocks off for the night."
The question at hand: dragons. Specifically, their flatulent capabilities. Now, in European bestiary tradition, dragons are fire-breathing beasts — the Greek drakon, the Norse lindworm, the Welsh draig. Their fire comes from specialised glands that ignite a combustible fluid (think the bombardier beetle, but scaled up to "burn down a village" proportions). But internal combustion via flatulence? That’s an entirely different biological system.
Medieval scholars were frustratingly silent on this matter. Dungeons & Dragons, however, suggests that dragon digestive systems are so thermally volatile that their very methane output could theoretically ignite. Which means: yes, a dragon fart could absolutely be a fire hazard. Imagine being the poor knight who survives the flame breath only to be taken out by the backdraft.
Anyway, this bloke has been lying in bed since 2am pondering dragon digestive biology instead of sleeping. And honestly? That’s the most relatable thing I’ve seen all week. 9/10 for existential curiosity, 3/10 for sleep hygiene.
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