Further to that......
we had a gentleman 'hunting' with us a few years back up near sudbury at our usual camp in town from Calgary. His idea of 'hunting' involved playing cards and drinking til first light and repeating for a week. Those of us that actually cared to hunt grew tired of the routine of him trying to wake us up at 3am for a round of whatever.
His final day, he had to leave camp at about 8am to get out to the highway in time to make it back to Toronto to catch his flight. We were up before 6, he was still at his usual routine, so my old man stuffed a few whitefish into the bottom of his sleeping bag. Around 7am this gentleman was in a panic, rolled up his bag, packed his belongings and left, still drunk.
The following August, a phone call was received informing us it took him weeks to figure out what the smell in his basement was, his wife has been furious, he had no idea what the jellied mass in the sleeping bag originally was, and that he would not return to hunt with us ever again.
"it turns out that fishy smells, like hard feelings, last far longer than I had thought."
Indeed.