FARTS

MY Top 5 farts

I love farts, the whole mystique and pageantry that surrounds flatulence has always tickled and amused me. From the squeakiest parp to proper tumultuous show stoppers, they have always held a fascination for me. I think this fascination started when I was around 6 and I heard what I thought was a motorbike outside, it was in fact my dad on the toilet upstairs. This magnificent faecal harbinger set the tone for the rest of my life. Farts were funny. Here in no particular order are the five worse (best) farts I have experienced.

Bob’s bad effort

Back in the day there used to be around 9 of us who hung out together, Myself, Thick Bob, Galley, Friendly Phil, Bowler, Ogo, naked Dean and C’lee. Including the girls and other hangers on this could expand to around 20 of us, but we 9 were the core lads.  

We had been to a wedding in Chorley of someone we knew and were making our way back in a minibus on the motorway. We were all pissed and were singing, making fun out of the Bangladeshi driver whist battering Naked Dean on the back row. The driver was getting agitated by our behaviour and was gibbering on; the minibus was a riot when Thick Bob decided to dropped his lungs. The thing about Bob was that he was clinically stupid, He had a heart of gold but by-fuck was he thick, anyhooo, in the midst of the violence, singing and driver histrionics Bob just said, matter of factly “sorry lads”. It then hit us, it was appalling. At first there was mute incomprehension at the horror that was unfolding within the tight, hot confines of the minibus and then pandemonium broke out. We started fighting for window spaces, actually hurting each other in the rush to stick our heads out of the window and the already unbalanced driver started panicking and screeching at us in his heathen tongue, God knows what he was saying but he was very very unhappy, for all we knew he could have been cursing us and our future descendants but we were oblivious to his dramatics. The smell was actually easy to describe. It did not smell like a normal fart, it actually smelt like he had dropped his pants and curled one off on the seat. It was the stale, cloying, meaty smell of a shit done by someone who is poorly, very poorly. I remember crying with laughter at the sheer effrontery and offensiveness of the fart.

The driver was still going on when we got back to dukinfield, the smell had stopped with us for a good 20 minutes on the motorway and was still lingering around inside the minibus. Needless to say, Bob got elevated to godlike heights….after he had a right good twatting.

Alton towers disaster

One of my mates at school was called “Whitey”. His claim to fame was that he shagged a poodle (allegedly) and he had done a shit on a rock when on a scouting trip, it was that large they put a king-size mars bar next to it for size comparison. It was actually bigger than the mars bar. I have seen the photo. Anyway, I digress.

Whitey had an uncle Jimmy, I had met uncle Jimmy a few times and the man was a legend. He was fuckin massive, at least 6 foot 7 and 22 stone with a sense of humour and farts to match. I cannot remember his wife’s name, I just remember the fact that she was born with no sense of smell. I don’t know if this was the reason they got together but it must have helped. When Jimmy farted, bad things happened.

Whitey’s mum and dad invited me to go Alton Towers with them and naturally I said yes. Whitey’s family were funny to be around and something funny and untoward always happened with them. Looking back I cannot remember anything unusual happening until the ghost house. This Was Where Jimmy Farted. The ghost house then is where around the world in 80 days is now and you used to walk around the ride. It was gubbish to be honest but it was something to do. Myself and Whitey was far in front of his family was about to take the piss out of some fat cockney lad we had seen when people started to rush past us. At first we thought their had been a fire and people where rushing to get out, it was not just one or two people, it was ALL OF THEM. People where rushing past us with a look of disgust and revulsion and then we heard Uncle Jimmy in the distance. His big baritone booming laughter came crashing out of the tunnels and then that’s when we knew. Uncle Jimmy had farted, Whitey’s mum came rushing out of the dark tunnels, swearing and carrying on about Jimmy showing her up again, the smell followed her and it was bad. It was special smell when you eat far, far too many eggs. I have smelt worse, but for the shear scale and magnitude of Jimmies effort it has to make the list.

Assembly-time blues

Possibly the only effort on the list to make it without any discernible (or remembered) smell. Assembly time at school was a test, it was a test to see how much mischief you can get up to without getting caught. If you got caught misbehaving at school assembly it was always A BIG DEAL, if you got caught (like I frequently did) arsing around you had to stand up and walk to the front of the assembly. You then had to stand on the stage behind the headmaster whist he ranted and raved about how bad and degenerate you were.

The lads I drink with now are not the ones I had in my form at school so unfortuantly I had to sit with others during assembly. This particular day we were all sat in a group in assembly. There was Me, Greggs and whitey on three chairs and in the row directly in front of us were Tots, Dogshit Dave and Sexpest. It was a running game to poke, flick and bug whoever sat in front of you and so it was with my customary twisted delight that I was poking and flicking boogies onto Dogshit's head. Whiteu had his hand on the back of Tots chair and Sexpest  was whispering insults. All I remember of the moment prior to the The Fart was Greggs whispering “Do it!, Do it! to Sexpest, and so he did. Sexpest must have been sat on the edge of his chair and it was one of those cheap orange plastic ones, anyway, from some fluke of physics and acoustics the fart vibrated and echoed on the chair, what was supposed to be a normal run of the mill effort got magnified into something truly wondrous and special. If James Cameron had witnessed the glory he would have made a 3 hour cinematic masterpiece about it. I remember Whitey yelling and yanking his hand back from the back of the chair, I swear the chair actually visually vibrated. Needless to say it interrupted the morning prayers in mid stanza. I cannot convey how actually fuckin loud it was. The entire population of the school was in the gym at that time for assembly and every one got to experience possibly the loudest fart ever (yes, even louder than my dads motorbike effort). The teachers and headmaster were apoplectic but all the kids were in stitches, every fucking kid in there was laughing, I actually laughed that much and that hard I nearly choked to death, it is not an exaggeration to see that I also pissed in my underwear. I honestly do not think I have ever laughed so much in my life (apart from when they killed Daphne in neihbours) Needless to say, we were all told to leave the assembly and wait outside the headmaster office. It was like a scene from Saint Trinians. The place was in uproar, teachers yelling, kids laughing themselves silly,Whitey yelling that he had broke his hand with the vibration on the chair and Sexpest saying he had tore himself apart. No one apart from us knew who had unleashed the beast amongst us. The bollocking we received was epic. It was hard explaining to my mum and dad why disrupting the lords prayer with a huge fart was not a good thing. My dad was more understanding than my mam, he’s a dude my dad.

All you can eat.

I will start by saying this is possible the foulest anal emanation of all time. Without actually causing harm to someone I cannot imagine anything quite as foul and poisonous as this. THIS WAS JUST WRONG. Wiggy may have actually been involved in this, it may have actually been him, I cannot quite remember. Probably was him, it would be just like him to do something as insidious and ghastly as this.

The lads from work as well as two of my friends, Dim lad and Smackhead used to go down to Narabi in levenshulme. It used to cost ten of the queens pounds for all you can fuckin eat. That my dear friends is a bargain, all the curry you could devour for just £10. I have ejaculated for less. The only downside was that it was not licensed and also the women had a tendency to breast feed in there. Bizarre. We used to have a few drinks before hand and the veterans of Narabi used to follow a few simple protocols before setting foot in there. Number one was to wear loose fitting pants, whilst you may look like a clown, you could actually consume more food. The second one was that it helped if you took windeeze pills with you. This got rid of the bloated feeling you get when competitive eating or visiting Narabi. I digress, back to the story.

The food was incredible, proper authentic Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi food. It has been voted one of the best Asian eateries in the north west and it is easy to understand why. The problem was that it was too good, the food was too authentic and so our delicate western stomachs had difficulty coping with the heavy spice use, this inability to cope with the heavy spice use manifested itself quite rapidly.

We used to spend on average around 90 minutes to two hours eating in there, this was not the normal “lets go for a meal” eating. This was eating with a purpose, this was eating like you meant it. This was men at work. There was some hefty lads who used to go down with us. Myself, wiggy, Dimlad, Big Lee and smackhead are all of the larger build and so we could trough. It was not unusual to sit down and eat 4 or 5 stacked plates of food and then it was unlimited Gateau, cheesecake and other sweet delights for after. The food we consumed was stupid to be honest and it had its consequences.

After the meal we used to get a minibus home, there was no point going to the pub, we all had eaten too much to move safely. It was bog and bed. It had to be in that order: toilet and then bed. If you messed that up you messed the bed up. We had just set off from Narobi and was on levenshulme main road in the middle of traffic when it happened. I don’t remember it actually happening, one second the minibus was fart free, then next second an awful and abysmal miasmatic cloud of misery descended on us. It was that bad I could not actually laugh, it was that bad you could taste it. It smelt like a foul mixture of shit and curry, God it stank. The minibus driver actually stopped the minibus in the middle or the road and got out. In the middle of traffic. He did not even pull over to the side of the road. He just got out there and then. With cart horns tooting and screaming he stood there and exploded. His anger was palpable but that was the least of my concerns. Eventually the driver calmed down and got back on the minibus, he was still mightily fucked off with us and he threatened to kick fuck out of us if it happened again. To this day I cannot recall who dropped that crime against nature but I have a sneaky feeling it was either Smackhead or Wiggy. I swear as well that you could smell the fart on your clothes hours after the event.

Bare arse fart

After a lot of deliberation I have decided to add this effort to the top five. By adding this one I have had to leave out the time Richard Forster pushed too hard and shit himself on the Calais ferry, the time when I was eleven I sat in my underpants on my brothers head and farted up his nose, the time Ogo lit a fart and burnt himself or the time I farted in the changing room at work and nearly started a fight. No, whilst all the above are funny and memorable, the one to make it to the list is when I made my older brother puke with a fart.

It was 2001 and we were in Edinburgh on a piss-up watching rugby at murrayfield. On these rugby trip the first drinks are normally consumed around 8ish in the morning and then you carry on to the wee hours, there is an art to session drinking, the trick is to drink slowly but consistent. There is an urban myth about drinking yourself sober, this is a fallacy, it is an biological, chemical and physical impossibility, what happens is that your kidneys reach and equilibrium between alcohol consumed and alcohol absorbed, but anyway...my fart.

We had a fantastic and lively night around Edinburgh and was making our way back to the hotel. The hotel was actually on the waterside overlooking the estuary

and so as very pissed lads are wont, we went skinny dipping. This very rapidly lost its novelty and so we got out of the water. Of coarse our clothes had gone missing, it would have been rude not to. The hotel did not bat an eyelid when at 02:30 in the morningt we all were sat at the bar naked singing rugby songs. I was suffering from a distressing bout of flatulance at the time and I remember Wayne (older brother) threatening me if I farted again. Nature being nature I had to fart and so I did. It was titanic and it hurt like fuck. The room stopped singing and looked at me with a mixture of admiration, rapture, revulsion and disgust. Wayne started laughing and as he opened his mouth the smell hit him and he swallowed some of it. Bare in mind we are all naked at this point, there was no cloth or denim between my arsehole and his lungs. A full days beer and food erupted out of his mouth. Luckily I got out of the way very fuckin fast but it was like a beer and puke geyser exploding out of his mouth. In any other company this outragous and prepostorous would have been frowned upon, Rugby lads are differnet though. To them this was entertainment of the highest order. I still get congratulated on this great effort.

Thanks for reading this and I apologise for any spelling mistakes. I have changed some of the names but this is the only falsehood

G Eastwood