Once... in my youth... my friend drove us around Reading and I had a few bags of flour. As we drove past a couple of people on their way for a night out, I threw a bag of flour out of the car window which landed behind them. It exploded and as I looked out of the rear window, all I saw was a plume of flour. I'm chuckling to myself as I type this. Good times.

I'm struggling to think of an appropriate word. I'll need to think about this tomorrow.