school haze
Fond school memories, I was indeed blessed in the trumpy department.

1 - I was caned for farting when a teacher made me stand outside and the headmaster was patrolling whilst I was stood outside. The most amusing part was watching the teacher explain why I was standing outside without starting a gigglefest in the classrom. His first thought was to say I had been releiving myself, which the headmaster interpreted as me taking a leak and exposing my boy-bits. Made me laugh inside, at least until I was dragged off by the ear to be caned, minor offence, 1 on each hand - thanks Mr. Whetton the teacher and Mr. Bellamy the head.

2 - I was evicted from French and English in the same morning, for sharing my joy. No sense of humour language teachers, so I can't remember their names.

3 - I bought some Dr. Windbreakers Fart-Powder from Goose Fair in Nottingham, and then thought it would be fun to add it to my school dinner. It was green, and as I added to my sausage and mash a teacher, Mr. Deuville sat down on the table. A friend asked him whether he knew what it was that I was adding to my lunch. He confirmed that he did, and he was leaving. I nevere asked him how he knew, maybe he was a regular user.

4 - What I like to think of as my finest farting moment, RE or Religiuos Education as it was known back in 1978. I let slip a tiny little pop, almost silent, certainly deadly. It seemed to rise above my head and then spread out like a mushroom cloud before falling on all 32 kids in the class and the unfortunate Miss Love. The kids at the back of the class opened and jumped straight out of the window, not sure whether they rememberedthat we were on the ground floor or even cared. The kids at the front of the class ran for the door, but the ones I felt sorry fr were those in the middle who had bunched up behind those making use of the emergency exits. I was cracked up with laughing as Miss Love shouted 'calm down children, please, calm down'. Not sure she was expecting such disruption from the top set, we were supposed to be the clever/nice ones.

My ex-wife was not happy with this undocumented feature of her beau. She was not best pleased by either the farts themselves or even by the word fart, I had to refer to them as 'pumps', as my mates said, there was no way they could be called pumps, fart was too small a word for them. I was also expected to stick my arse out of the patio door when I felt them coming, I did mention that this was my ex-wife didn't I?

Happy days, my own son (by my current wife) is now starting to generate some excellent burps, it is only a matter of time before the wind like a salmon swims home to spawn. It is enough to make you weep.
( Be-elzebulb_the_devils_own_gardener, Tue 17 Jul 2007, 15:23, Reply)