So yesterday afternoon I was attending a meeting in our Boardroom; we were all sitting there quietly, studying some documentation we had been handed when suddenly through the silence, the faint but very discernible sound of a fart was heard emanating from a person unknown. I say a fart but it was more a polite parp than a full on blower, the kind most likely let off by somebody who had desperately but unsuccessfully tried their best to hold it in. I resisted the temptation to say “nice one” and instead carried on reading and sniggered quietly to myself. Nobody acknowledged what had just happened but it sounded to me like a lady fart and there were just two ladies present. So it was either Ann or Caroline.
Anyway it got me thinking about farts, they’re funny aren’t they? Farts……even the word fart is funny. Just mention it in conversation and people start smiling…. Well I do anyway. Makes me think that whoever or whatever created us had a sense of humor. He could easily have designed farts to be silent when he had us up on the drawing board, but no, he went with the “lets make them loud and funny to embarrass the perpetrator and give everybody else a cheap laugh.”
I have a few pleasant memories involving farts going right back to my childhood years. I still think fondly of my days served as an alter boy in our small rural church. I can recall more than instance where we were berated by the priest after Mass for sniggering uncontrollably on the altar after the sound of silence was broken (literally) by a whopper of a fart. It was almost always John Burke who was responsible for these emissions; we knew this because he always followed up with a loud guttural cough, as if to disguise his previous indiscretion after the event.
Then there was my buddy Tony (not his real name) who is now the MD of a Multinational Company. Tony had a talent for being consistently able to have an SBD (silent but deadly) brewing, ready to knock out at a moments notice. I was always envious of this ability he possessed though I suspect it was aided in no small way by his refusal to ever visit the upper echelons of the Food Pyramid. Tony drove a battered Volkswagen Beetle and loved picking up hitch hikers. Whenever he spotted a lone hiker (he was cute enough not to chance it with more than one), he would wind up his window, wiggle his arse and envelop his surroundings with the noxious odor of whatever shite he had been eating the previous evening. He derived a devious satisfaction from welcoming his victim on board while nonchalantly pretending nothing was untoward in his little world.
Finally, I pay tribute to Donal (also not his real name), a student and part time summer temp I had the pleasure of working with many years ago. Donal’s party piece was lighting his farts; like Tony I was also impressed with this man’s ability to perform his magnificent act on request. Donal would lay back slightly on a chair, legs akimbo, gusset in full view and request a volunteer to place a lit match in front of his arsehole on his signal. The money shot was like a blowtorch, shooting out multicoloured plumes of rainbows. Oh how we laughed and cheered. Just once I remember, in a misjudged attempt to sate the baying crowds (well, 3 of us anyway) he accidentally shit his pants. But that didn’t perturb our Donal. Following a quick wardrobe change he was good to go again, a performer to the end. Just as I write this I also recollect the unfortunate but not too bright volunteer who once bore witness to this amazing feat. Not happy with his view he moved closer only to spend the next week trying to explain to all and sundry how he had managed to singe both of his eyebrows.
I know some of you Sapiosexuals out there might consider all this talk a bit lowbrow but you know what, its good to be silly sometimes, have a laugh and hopefully not shit your pants in the process…like Donal did.