* PFFT *I've been pretty farty all week, but 2 large helpings of sausage and lentil stew last night have really tipped things over the edge. I swear you can see these ones.
I'm here at work trying to hold them in so I (a) don't have to keep nipping to the loo like a madman and (b) don't gas half the office, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. I might rupture something if I'm not careful.
Tell us all about your own fartiness.
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chthonic, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 14:01)
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Gas MachineI drink far too much beer to ever be far from a trouser commotion, and these are usually loosed off with great abandon, studied nonchalence or vicious cruelty. Long, gaseous noise merchants, silent, evil kebab stinkers - you name it, but the only horror I have is the honeymoon period of sleeping with a new partner, that period in which thou shalt not fart is the number one bedtime rule.
Last year I embarked on a new relationship with a wonderful woman, and i'd been duely avoiding treating her to the full repertoire. One night, after copious pints of dark malty beer (not to mention chicken wings and Polish sausage) we were getting busy and I was lying on my back being treated to the delicious sexual ministrations of the blow-job. Feeling more adventurous, she started teasing my perineum, and who would have thought that a massage in that area would stimulate the fart reflex?
Well, it did, right in her face, you could practically see her bangs parting in the gust. I was mortified, but mercifully it didn't ming, not in the slightest, which is rare for me after meats. We're still together, and she still asks from time to time if it's safe for her to go down there, but as the honeymoon period is over, I fart with impunity anyway. As does she :-D
and...
Hardly original, but I once smoked up a joint in a Buckingham Palace toilet. There was a fellow outside with a sword and a horse-tail helmet - the full works, and there was me inside toking up a fat one. Luckily, i'd dropped my guts just before lighting up so the two stenches sorta mingled, cancelling each other out in the nasty way air-freshner does.
Then, wall-eyed and out of my gourd, I proceeded to mingle with the other guests invited to witness the investitures. I met one of my heroes, Ian Botham, and I swear he was looking at me jealously because he knew I was boxed, and Michael Caine called me a drunk, so I called him a shite-hawk and told him that there are plenty of treatments that can rid a man of the shards of greasy scalp that coated the tired old hack's shoulders.
It got worse - I dropped a fart during the ceremony that could have been heard in Wapping, and when the smell hit I was laughing so hard without opening my mouth that tears streamed down my eyes, I was a right old mess :-D
(, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:01, Reply)
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