It went over like a fart in church.
The church I grew up in ran out of money before they could finish the church, so for my entire childhood we had Sunday mass in what was supposed to be the gymnasium: tile floors, cinder block walls, wood pews with not cushions, and the worst acoustics imaginable.

So there I was, eight years old, the singing stops, and someone, not me, lets one rip on the wooden pews. There was no way that a single person in the church didn't hear it.

Even the nuns laughed at that one.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Tue 24 Mar 2009, 3:30, 1 reply)

You grew up in a church?
Must have been a little odd.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 24 Mar 2009, 9:41, closed)