some things will always be funny.
of course, i am talking about farts! whether silent but deadly or complete rippers.
i remember well, when i was just 13, having german lessons at school, and an old school chum called paul hobley was reading a passage in german that started with ‘my father’ or in german, ‘mein farter’. Now they say the secret to good comedy is timing, well. the young mr hobley timed his to perfection. immediately after reading the words ‘mein farter’ he let one go. it was perfect. the old school rooms at lawrence sherriff school were high and echoey, the school desk combo’s were old and wooden, the resulting tommy squeeker sent ripples of guffaws throughout the class, all except for ms dunn, the teacher, and young mr hobley who managed to read his passage faultlessly.
then some 20 or so years later, i happened to be in dublin with the likes of Mr Clifton, Mr Brown and Mr Collins. we were fortunate enough to be staying in a very prim guesthouse just north of the river. the guest house was period georgian i am guessing, high ceilings and heavy terracotta tiles on the floors. as we sat in the breakfast room one morning in the ‘silence of strangers’ eating our breakfast, Mr Brown let out a ‘semi moist over old oak’ morning trumpet that echoed around the walls before bouncing off them and echoeing around them once more. As the other guests were frowning their disgust and mumbling under their breath, I , sadly, was the only one that couldn’t keep a straight face and so they channelled their frowns directly at me.
moving on to modern times, just the other night i was glad to be of assistance to jess. while we were cuddled up in bed, i started to giggle. curious, she asked what i was laughing about, i just kept laughing. Of course she asked again………….i just kept on laughing until suddenly i whipped the duvet up above both of our heads, then slammed it down firmly again so that we were encased like mummies. Yep, i had let one go of course, hence my laughter but it seems that the young ms daniels had heard of this kind of behavour but dismissed it as folklore, i am of course glad to be able to help dismiss urban myths
authors footnote……the author would like to acknowledge that the young mr hobley suffered a premature and untimely death some five years after the event described above. a waste of any young life indeed but also a waste of pure comedy genius.
The November Archives 
Have a moan - the beers are on me !!