Wednesday, 20 March 2013

The joys of farting

Being 57 years old, the sphincter isn't what it used to be, nevertheless farting is a liberating, pleasurable, albeit essential, experience. So here's my prattle....

Farting on an aircraft relieves stomach cramps plus it is hard to nab the culprit. In flight noise is your ally.
Farting on a lift (rapidly becoming 'elevator' worldwide) is fraught with danger unless you can execute a 'silent but deadly' one after promptly departing the car. Some arsehole did the same thing to me, he/she must have got off on <G> and we got on at <1> being surrounded by the stench, another couple got on at <2>.... so we got the blame.
When you are first in a relationship, you would never dream of 'letting Fluffy off the chain', especially not in bed with your beloved.
Ater living together for nearly 30 years, letting one rip on the couch is not uncommon and playing 'Dutch ovens' in the doona is almost de rigueur.
One draws the line at the dinner table though. One has to have standards.
There must be a direct correlation between your age and the length of your farts. Is it just me? By the time I'm seventy, I'll be tooting off "The Minute Waltz". I can almost perform a sentence now.
Let's hear it for Monsieur Joseph Pujol (Le Petomane).

Excuse my puerile post.

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