Farts

Listed below are the farts that have shaped my life. In chronological order:-

1st February 1976 – the loudest fart ever squelched out of a backside, it launched a classload of giggles that Miss Titterton couldn’t quell. “Nigel. What was that?” she glared at me sharply from above her glasses. “I was just getting a book from my desk Miss.” So saying I lifted the desk-lid, the creaky rasp of it drawing a fresh round of laughter from the class; a joke I would repeat at least once every day for the next three years.

17th October 1981 – the bouncing fart, as it became known, or more accurately a sequence of short, sharp farts, stuttering out of my bottom. I mark my arrival at my new school with my own unique anal sound, and am soon known, by reputation at least, to every boy, girl and teacher in the school.

16th June 1984 – first televised fart. A good year for farting this, capped by my brief appearance on TV, interviewed as part of a queue for the new Bowie album. “These youngsters have been queuing for hours to be first in line for the new album” announced the finest BBC tones. “Tell me young man, why do you think David Bowie’s worth a three hour wait”.

My bottom spoke before I could, a gusty roar, but I followed it with my finest add lib. Ever. “Sorry, this is the queue for Bowie is it, I thought it was the queue for the toilet.” So saying I walked away, grasping my backside as I did so. Afterwards I had to fight my way back into my place in the queue as soon as the camera turned away.

28th April 1985 - Ministry of funny farts. Steve, Barrie, Eric and I, inspired by Monty Python and renowned for our glorious farting skills, formed the Ministry of Funny Farts. The membership ceremony consisted of eating three cans of baked beans followed by a dish of prunes each, the recipe resulting in an extraordinary all-round adventure into posterioral noises. I'm proud to say I played the John Cleese role, i.e. the really funny one everybody remembers.

17th November 1986 - The sweet smell of revenge. A silent fart, smellier than the winner of horseshit of the year award, surely the most ghastly fusion of chemicals ever to spill from a behind. And fantastic news, it got blamed on Michael. Serves the bastard right for going out with Dawn, just two days after she’d turned me down with a “I don’t want a boyfriend right now.” Nothing smells so sweet as revenge.

19th February 1987- Lager farting. Old enough at last to get served at the Barny, though not legally. First taste of larger is hurriedly followed by second taste of lager, always keen to lead the way. Another two pints and I led the way at hazy speed to the nearest toilet bowl where I returned the sharp taste of Harp to the sewers where it belonged, arse blasting a sore accompaniment as I did so.

22nd July 1987 - Multicultural farting. 9.15 pm – tasted my first ever curry, a vindaloo, at the Taj Mahal, which did a cheap rate student night. 9.37 pm – my first ever curry-flavoured fart, a smell of smelted copper tinged with rosebuds. A lifelong relationship is begun.

20th October 1987 - First post coital fart. Jackie was her name, a girl from Sociology A level, who didn’t really drink, but really drank that night. Afterwards we slumped uncomfortably into each other’s arms, and I let off the fart I’d been holding back for the last hour, a blessed release after waiting so long.

8th October 1988 - Fart exchange. First week at university, bottom perched on hard lecture-room benches and I squeak, a high pitched frivolity of wind. The stranger next to me makes an identical anal squeal, and thus I meet Roger. A lifelong relationship is begun.

11th December 1990 – the fart that changed my life. Spend twenty minutes standing next to a pretty stranger at the Union bar wondering how to get her attention. My arse makes the initiative for me, and thus meet Jane, who says that I’m the most disgusting man she’s ever met. We arrange to meet again the next night.

17th April 1991 - I know that fart anywhere. Drop a silent one round Roger’s. I deny everything, but Jane knows better. “It was you. I recognise your smell.” The first indication that this relationship was something special.

17th September 1995 - First professional fart. A noisy gust as I’m explaining divorce proceedings to my weeping client. Keep a straight face in front of her, but quickly hustle her from and room and burst into titters as soon as she is gone. Who says lawyers can't fart too.

17th July 1997 – Last fart as a single man. In the Contempt nightclub in Soho, the culmination of 20 pints and a kebab, my arse roars. The ultimate bachelor fart.

16th June 2000- The world’s smelliest fart – not one of mine, but of Tommy’s, my day old son. Squelched out of his bottom as I held him in my arms. I almost weep with pride, and at the smell. He clearly takes after his old man.

26th April 2005 – 31st July 2005 - Farting in strange beds. The period of my life of which I’m least proud, my affair with Alison. It takes place mainly in an eclectic selection of hotel rooms in or around Maidstone, which all smell worse than my farts ever have. I have to let one go just to clear the room out.

17th December 2005- My smell returns. Jane finally forgives me my indiscretion and I’m welcome back into her bed, which I immediately fill with my scent. Jane forgives me even this filthy act.

Today - Still farting strong. Five minutes ago in fact. Not a spectacular fart, nor a momentous occasion, but now I’m the wrong side of 40 I’m just glad to be alive and farting.