Girls
All girls fart like troopers, in fact louder and smellier than men.

Fact.

And I don't mean front bottom ones either.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 16:01, Reply)

The worst thing I ever did
Ahhhhh. How age brings us the benefit of wonderful experiences. There's some things you should never do; believe me, I've done most of them several times, and those that I've only done once, I'll probably end up doing again just for the sake of it.

Back when I was 18, I had quite a lot of things ahead of me. I had a fiancé at this time; her name was Gillian. Prior to our engagement, at 17, she'd popped my ever ripening cherry for me. We ended up engaged; this phenomena is known as 'first fuck' syndrome.
So, Gillian.
Bless her, initially she was a great choice, but as time went by, she hooked up with some new friends outside of our group. In the end she became a real SLAG. Turned out she'd been sleeping with some heroin addict. Class. In all truth, I was glad to be rid of her...

One of the best things about Gillian was her huge static caravan, which my friends and i would often go back to after a night on the beer.
On one particular night, four of us lads went back with Gill -- all quite lashed. I made everyone hot chocolate and Gill' finished hers and went to bed. Little did I know, but several blocks of ex-lax chocolate had been placed in my drink and left to dissolve whilst I was in the bedroom wishing her goodnight. The trivial pursuit board came out, and we set about drunken play. [This was 1989 after all.]

My stomach was upset. Laddishly, I let out a restricted guff. My friend Luke looked around the table.
"Give me a lighter... Now!"
Us other three lads watched in awe as he pulled down his trousers, placed the lighter... and guffed.. Producing a small blue green flame. Impressed, we rallied the table. Lindon and Justin couldn't rise to the challenge... But I felt worthy.

I stood next to the fireplace, dropped my trousers, lit the lighter and STRAAAAAINED.
FAARRRPPPPPP!!

The lighter was extinguished. The fireplace was pebbledashed. Everything was covered in a thick layer of liquid shit.
I looked around at the stunned faces: total silence as the realisation set in about what'd just happened.... Followed by a tidal wave of laughter which rose the very She-devil herself... GILLIAN!
"What's going on in there?" she shouted, "I'm coming out!"
The laughter stopped, shock set in, and then panic.
"Errrrr... Nothing!" I yelped.
I grabbed what I could: kitchen roll, paper, and the kitchen cloth from the sink.
By the time she was dressed and out, minimal evidence was on show. She didn't even suss. The 'soiled' kitchen cloth sat back in the sink.
I felt relief.

It doesn't end there though. Obviously, no one else sussed either..
I arrived at the caravan on the following tuesday.
Gillians step mother was just finishing the washing up. She was using the cloth... That I'd forgotten to clean.
Arse biscuits.
( mr null One mad man in a world gone sane, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 16:01, Reply)

I didn't do it....!
Well, I was in a lecture at uni. Having arrived at the lecture hall about 10 minutes late, we were all sitting at the front as just prior to the lecture, myself and several mates have been in the pub for about 2 hours drinking.

Anyhoo, about 15 mins into listening to my tutor droning on about Giotto, I decided I really needed to pop out and loose a few pints of fluid.

So, I stand up, and as I do, one of my not so sober mates makes a hideously loud farting noise with his hands and mouth.

So there I am standing at the front of the lecture hall with the entire damn class laughing. To make matters worse, my tutor then comes up with this jem:

"Now Class, bodily functions are no laughing matter..."
( theoriginalsteve <this space intentionally left blank>, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 16:00, Reply)

Another.........
Just remembered one time when my best mate was round at mine for some gaming, whilst I was busy 'raiding tombs' (I forget the actual name of the game).... 'best' friend decided it would be fun to walk round behind me, drop trou' and place both cheeks (and I fear some anus) directly on back of my head (damn you low-backed sofa!) and let rip with a full force botty burp which damn near centre-parted my hair.

Needless to say I was not amused and later on washed and re-washed my hair in fear of the poo particles festering in my scalp.

Nice.
(VoodooChild "God knows I'm a Voodoo Child", Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:57, Reply)

I was at a museum one time...
yes, a museum--DEADLY quiet--when this old man of about 75 walks up to the same display I'm looking at. Okay, fine, whatever.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him get this intense look of concentration and concern. With his brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, and (I swear) beads of sweat forming on his wrinkly old forehead, he suddenly stops. His eyes grow wide and his mouth falls slack.
"BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!" says his butt. His high-waisted flannel pants do nothing to muffle the sound now echoing through the otherwise silent exhibit hall, nor the smell that could only be described as egg salad that has been forgotten in the backseat of a car that was parked outside in the sunshine in August and left for two weeks. Yes, it was that bad.
He turns to me, beaming, his eyes almost squeezed shut because he's smiling so big.
Never in my life have I sprinted to a women's bathroom so fast.
Too bad my gag reflex beat me, though.
(Mademoiselle Dustman picked a bouquet of oopsie daisies for you on, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:56, Reply)

Just this weekend
I discovered that the combination of my guts and roast parsnips generate the most appallingly noxious fumes. It was so bad that even two hours later entering the room resulted in cries of "oh God, what is that?". No amount of air freshener would shift it.


The only one I've ever done that was worse was the one where I was in hospital with an ulcer and I had tried to digest a couple of pints of my own blood. You could have bottled that one and used it to strip paint.
( evil_andy Stick stick stick stick sticky sticky stick stick, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:56, Reply)

Fanny Farts
There was a girl in school who was immensely talented in the fanny fart arena. She would lie on her back and contract her stomach muscles intil there was a small 'intake' of air in the nether regions. Then she would roll forward and BINGO, huge fanny fart. Much to the amusement of all. She was fully dressed by the way, for all you with dirty minds.

We actually recorded a series - possibly 50 of them in a row one night, on tape (yes before CD's). Each one interspersed with much girlie laughter and giggling.

It went pretty much like this "wait for it, wait for it...". PARP. Giggle. "Do it again!", "Do it again!". And repeat.

Ahh - happy days. She probably works in Bangkok now amusing onlookers with ping pong balls or something...
(Peelmytangerines, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:55, Reply)

fantasy fart
It's a warm one, quite dry, released with the sound of paper being torn - the perfect fart. The gases are dense and the smell so pungent that the cloud is visible to the naked eye.

Its weaves it way, snakelike, creeping like a vine towards its target......creeping, forever creeping.

It hits.

Legless looks confused. A look of bewilderment spreads across his last-post-pinching face. His eyes open in shock and his mouth drops in awe serving as a new gateway for the vile toxins to enter his body. He can smell it. He can taste it. The vile creation, borne from the bowels of spikeypickle and delivered with the force of thousand buffaloes, takes it effect.

Legless drops, gasping in a futile attempt to breath - to cleanse his lungs of the poison which threatens his very existence. There is no escape. The acidic taste and pooey whiff engulfs him.

Never again will Legless steal last post.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:53, Reply)

Bus fun
I live in London, my girfriend does not - this means a lot of bus journeys to and from Waterloo station.

Fairly early on in our relationship I released a Belsen-like emission when there was just us and a young family sharing the ground floor of said bus.

The dad loudly and persistently blamed his son. 'Bloody 'ell, now I know what happened to Roland Rat' he said.

'He crawled up your arse and died'.

The shame.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:53, Reply)

Musical!
I once farted a perfect descending major arpeggio. Hitting the low C at the end almost made me shit myself, but it was well worth it.

Next stop, a career in opera!
(flimflam_machine, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:49, Reply)

American Breakfast
I once worked at an airport (I won't name it this still mortifies me to this day)anyway it was a small airport with quite limited facilities. I started my shift at a ridiculously early 4am, worse still the night previous had only seemed to have ended a couple of hours previously after a night of lager finished off with a meat based takeaway.

So I work at the bit before security when the passengers are going through to the departure area, at approx 5.30 am a middle aged American couple approached meand i gave them the relevant instructions and information, whilst doing this I couldn't help but let go with a long, warm, silent and very smelly smell. after a pause the man passenger sniffed the air and said to me 'Hey I'm guessing there is a restaurant through there serving breakfast?' then to his wife 'Can you smell that bacon?'.

I blushed furiously and made non-commital facial expressions to the question, ushering him along to the security man. Why?

There was indeed a cafe 'through there' only it didn't open 'til 7am when even then it only sold cold prepacked food and drinks. The lovely aroma of sizzling bacon was the warm air coming from my hungover bowels. I can vouch for this because I was to a point enjoying it too albeit very privately.

By the time my shift was over I was ready for my bed, I did tell the tale to a couple of friends when I next had a drink who saw the funny side but it really did embarrass me.

By the way I am a girl. as for the poor Americans, I always wonder what they ate whilst waiting for their flight, stomach grumbling from the anticipation of a hot bacon butty or whatever they call it in America.
(Thomasina Kitten, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:47, Reply)

Youthful exuberance
When I was in primary school I was sat near the front of the class one day and let out a real 'even I don't like the smell' type of chuff. Silent but more deadly than 100 ninjas.

'Oh dear', quoth the headmistress, 'I think someone's gone to the toilet in their pants'. Yup, it was that bad she thought someone had crapped themselves.

I of course covered my tracks by looking in disgust at the boy behind me and pointing at him, holding my nose. It took a good few minutes for this poor innocent to convince the teacher that he hadn't shat himself.

Still proud of that - equally for creating such a noxious stench and for my utter slyness.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:43, Reply)

I once farted after sex
It was on the second date. I was promptly dumped.
( turb0t, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:43, Reply)

This is not my fartiness, its somebody elses
We have aguy in the office who is unable to burp, so much so that all of his gas comes out of his arse. He is almost like le petimaine, he can fart on cue, and he is able to decise if he wants them loud or quiet and he can make them long and drawn out.
( turb0t, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:42, Reply)

The Breath of Satan
I come from a long line of farters. My dad is one of those people who finds anal serenades the funniest thing on earth, much to mum's great annoyance.

But without fail, it is always her own trumps which have been the source of the greatest amusement, of which the greatest was one summer many years ago when both her sisters and our cousins were all over for a Sunday of food, booze, playing games and family bonding.

Picture, if you will, a group of 12 of us in the garden doing nothing more exciting than standing in a big circle simply throwing a ball randomly to each other (yes, the family get-togethers were quite, quite shit). Mum wasn't the best of catchers, and was regularly dropping the ball, and had to scuttle off to pick it up with the grace and co-ordination only a post-menopausal lady appears to be able to attain.

One time, she bent over a bit quickly, and inadvertantly let off a fart of such power and tonal quality that it must have been close to tearing the fabric of space and time.

This destroyed everyone - uncles and aunts were bent over double in pain from laughing. There didn't seem to be a dry eye in the garden. The game was half-heartedly continued but eventually was given up as a lost cause.

This in itself was amusing enough, but from my own point of view it was funnier watching our neighbours the following weekend, standing in a circle, attempting to play the same game and work out what the hell made it quite so amusing for us to play.

I reckon at its current velocity that fart must be close approaching the edge of the known universe.

---

I think my own most ignoble moment was being on holiday in Prague with some friends staying in a dorm room. I dropped a fart which was silent and evil enough to rouse my friend Ali from his drunken slumber.

I almost wept with joy.
(Glis, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:41, Reply)

Ha ha ha!
One slipped out during GCSE maths whilst I was having a good stretch.

The teacher opened all the windows in the classroom!
(Papagato RackSpanner, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:37, Reply)

eesnahk
Funnily enough, the exact same story was told to me at a Christmas party by a bloke who told me it happened to *his* mate.

What are the chances, eh?
( Kroney, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:37, Reply)

Once the cat was under my covers
And I farted.

She pretty much immediately scrambled to get out - and I'm not even kidding - she had this look of total disgust on her face. Hahaha it was priceless :D
(kadee may or may not be a nymphomaniac, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:37, Reply)

12 years ago
I was in a history lesson at secondary school, and unbeknown to me, my stomach wasn't proving to be my best friend. I had been farting all morning on the way to school and the smell was of pure rotting egg consistency, so I was holding on until the end of the first lesson.

15 minutes to go until the end, and the pressure on my stomach was immense. I was in pain and was feeling quite ill. There was only one thing for it, I'd have to let it out slowly in small blips in the hope that it wouldn't smell too bad.

So that what I did, except it wasn't one small silent but violent, but a rather loud rip followed by the sound of a bubbling swamp. To my horror I had shit through the eye of a needle straight into my boxers.

Everyone looked, laughed, and then choked violently at the smell. Within 60 seconds the classroom was engulfed with my fumes. But that wasn't my concern, I was sitting in my own liquidated faeces with a shocked look on my face.

Length? About 30 seconds after it all happened I got up and walked to the little boys room, as it trickled down the full 32 inches of my inside leg.
(Spluff McDuff You Love It. You Slag!, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:34, Reply)

My friend's uncle...
...no, really...was on a ferry in Hong Kong in a white suit. (It was in the eighties; we're all guilty of fashionistic disasters.) His stomach was a bit uncomfortable and he needed to let off some steam, so he went to the back of the ferry and leaned on the rails. He relaxed to let some gas escape, but sadly, he relaxed rather too much and it all came out. I mean, all. Floods. All down his white suit. He couldn't make it stop.

He had to walk back to his apartment stinking and streaky-brown.
( thealternativefact, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:32, Reply)

The smell of my farts...
...puts an image in my mind of a buffalo smoking a pipe.
(daddypigsaw Geddinthebackothevan!, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:31, Reply)

Filling up with gas
Last one I promise.

My ex and my friend, Dave, popped down the service station to buy some fags, and when they got back, they were both almost legless with laughter. It took a good ten minutes before they'd stopped laughing long enough to tell me that just as they'd come in, the Armaguard guy had arrived to take the day's takings from the till. The shopkeeper told Dave and the ex that they had to lock down the servo while this transaction was taking place, but that he would let them pay and go before locking the place up for the ten minute transaction. Just as Dave paid for his smokes, he dropped his guts, quietly but with deadly effect. Apparently even HIS eyes were watering as they both fled the place. When they got outside, and the doors had been locked from the inside, trapping the hapless Armaguard guy and counter attendant in the wall of stench. What tripped them over the line of near hysteria was the look of sheer horror on the faces of the two men trapped inside the evil-smelling environment, the comedy effect of which was so great, that Dave and the ex stuck around for a few minutes, helpless with laughter, to watch the show. It was only when the doors were finally unlocked and the green faced Armaguard man opened the door that they fled.
( Shazzoir Old enough to know better young enough not to care, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:28, Reply)

ave that
I take gleeful joy at work by foating an air biscuit just as I leave the lift, and send it hurtling back down to the ground floor for some unsuspecting soul to bathe in.

Probably the reason they now have automatic air fresheners installed......... spoil sports.


I use the stairs more now. hehehe
(Humungus Fungus, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:27, Reply)

caroline whitfield
had just eaten what she later described as 'an off muller yoghurt'. this contributed to the beanfeast fart i ripped out in her basement flat, resulting in her puking before she could get to the toilet.

a hungarian at the rowing club did not have enough english to describe what he was being assailed with (note - rowers fart lots due to large carb consumption and contraction of tummy muscles during an outing), leading him to describe the guff as 'shit gas', a moniker that has subsequently stuck with him.

i once had a friend (my best man) fart in my open mouth, when i had passed out on the floor of the club room. i woke up just in time to breathe in and see his ring contract as the plume exited his sphincter. fart does not taste nice.

hmm farting.
(magictorch, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:22, Reply)

Tightarses in more ways than one
I used to work with three guys who had the same boss as I did. This boss was a total tightarse. I mean, immediately he would leave for the day, he would fill his thermos at the hot water boiler, steal a tea bag, and go home, so he could have two nice cups of tea on the work tab once he got home. He used to also complain bitterly that the 10 cents charged by the work canteen was just exorbitant, so he used to bring his own to work, storing them in one of those glass biscuit jars with the rubber lid seal. My three workmates and I were at morning tea one day, and when the boss walked in they were all attention. When he got his cup of tea ('forgetting' to put his money in the honesty box in return) and dunked his first biscuit, I thought the three of them were pitching a fit. In between suppressed laughter, they told me they had all taken turns farting into his biscuit stash that morning. The boss, thankfully, was blissfully aware, but the guys got such a kick out of this 'extra' biscuit topping, that they continued to 'fumigate' his biscuit stash on a regular basis until he left. Good times, good times...
( Shazzoir Old enough to know better young enough not to care, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:21, Reply)

The London Eye
The london eye is basically a number fairly small sealed plastic capsules on a fooking huge wheel. It takes fully 30 minuntes to complete a revolution and once it has begun there is no way to go off other than wating for the ride to finish. Thus, it was a rare moment of synchronicity that I dropped the most pungent gruff of my entire life right at the top of the London eye, on a hot summers day, surrounded by unsuspecting tourists. I swear to god one Italian lady tried to force the main door on the capsule. She would have rather jumped than bear the stench anymore.

They knew it was me because I was the only one laughing.
(MrVictim, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:21, Reply)

And finally
An ex of mine once managed to get himself, me and a group of 6 people ejected from a Greek restaurant with a fart.

At first it was just a noise, which he politely (and loudly) declared as his own work.

There a punctuated pause

Then came the wall of smell which permeated the entire restaurant leaving customers and staff alike choking, gagging and crying.

We were asked to leave, through the splayed fingers of a mongolian (yes, I don't know why there was a mongolian working in a Greek restaurant either) waitress, and told in no uncertain terms to never come back.

The restaurant shut down not long afterwards, probably from customers suing the owners for fart-related blindness.
(Jugular, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:17, Reply)

Marks and Spencer
A while ago a mate had been on an all day drinking session in London. On his way to catch his train he let one go which followed through rather spectacularly. So he dashed into the nearest Marks and Spencer and bought a new pair of trousers. Needless to say he was rather embarrassed by the spreading brown stain on the seat of his pants, so he threw the required amount of cash down, hurriedly grabbed the M & S bag off the counter and made a hasty exit.

Once on his train he went to the toilet, took off his soiled trousers and underpants and chucked them out of the window. Then he opened the bag to find...

...a sweater. Nothing else.
(eesnahk, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:17, Reply)

About four years back...
...was in a souvenir shop with the ex-girlfriend, Leidseplein Square, Amsterdam. Lovely place. The smell of shit suddenly hit me though, just before she approached me with the words (and the funniest look of sorrow and shame I've ever saw) "I've just done a smell."

Fucking knew it was her as soon as I smelt it. Dragged her out the shop before fingers started getting pointed.
(jaymierobber, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:16, Reply)

Steak Tartare
Raw meat, whilst lovely in an eggy capery mix, is not wholly within the design parameters of the modern man's digestive system.

It wasn't big, it wasn't loud, but my god if I'd been a dog I'd have slunk out of the room whimpering.

My veggie girlfriend came this -><- close to leaving me.

I'm sure there are other Francophiles out there who know the whiff of which I speak.
(meepmeep is, Fri 13 Jul 2007, 15:16, Reply)