Sunday Morning Funnies! Or, just farting in the wind!

First things first, me hardees! Can ye possibly guess what's going on here????That's right, the Prince did an anal acoustic, arse blaster, fart, backdoor trumpet, break wind, bottom burp, cut the cheese, creeper, deer snort, drooped a rose, fannitosis, fire in the hole, flatulence, fluff (women), gasser, here comes Freddie, hanger (The killer that emerges the morning after two days of drinking and permeates everything, making whatever room you were in unusable for at least half an hour!) kill the canary, morning thunder, one-cheek sneak, poof, poop without the mess, pop tarts, rip one, rattler, rip ass, silent but deadly, S.O.D. (stench of death),smelly jelly (a wet fart), sphincter whistle, tooters, tushie belches, wet one, whallop, and of course toot! We also can't forget the "Dutch Oven!" (Farting in bed and pulling the covers over your partners head to smell it!)

By the way, the Queen was not amused!
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What makes farts stink?The odor of farts comes from small amounts of hydrogen sulfide gas and skatole in the mixture. These compounds contain sulfur. The more sulfur-rich your diet, the more sulfides and skatole will be produced by the bacteria in your guts, and the more your farts will stink. Foods such as cauliflower, eggs and meat are notorious for producing smelly farts, whereas beans produce large amounts of not particularly stinky farts.

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Is it possible for a fart to kill you?A great many of you have asked if farts can be fatal, or if you can die from smelling a particularly bad fart. My initial response to this question was "no," but I thought I'd better ask a doctor. So now it is official, the medical opinion I received is no, a fart can't kill you. BUT!! If you fart, burp and hiccup all at the same time it is usually fatal!

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Beans, beans, the musical fruit:
The more you eat, the more you toot!
The more you toot, the better you feel,
So let's have beans for every meal!



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Peaches, peaches, I smell peaches,
Yonder goes a boy with a hole in his breeches!

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A fart can be useful;
It gives the body ease,
It warms the bed in winter
And suffocates the fleas


Let your wind pass free.
Wherever ye may be
Through Church and Chapel
Let it toot and rattle.



(With thanks to the Missus Herself!)

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The fart it is a wondrous thing that's made inside your belly,
It comes out of your bottom and is often very smelly.
Now, everybody does them, from beggars through to queens
And you can do some beauties when you've been eating beans!

So don't worry about those rumblings,
Be proud of all your trumps!
But remember, if you strain too hard
Your farts come out as lumps!

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Here I sit, broken-hearted,
Paid a dime but only farted.
Yesterday I took a chance,
Saved a dime but shit my pants.

Or;

Here I sit all broken hearted,
Tried to shit but only farted!
Here I sit in a trance,
Tried to fart, but shit my pants!



Some come here to sit and think,
But I come here to shit and stink!

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The Farter From Sparta
(Submitted by Steve S.)
There was a young fellow from Sparta.
A really magnificent farter.
On the strength of one bean
He'd fart "God Save the Queen,"
And Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

He could vary, with proper persuasion,
His fart to suit any occasion.
He could fart like a flute,
Like a lark, like a lute,
This highly fartistic Caucasian.

This sparkling young farter from Sparta,
His fart for no money would barter.
He could roar from his rear
Any scene from Shakespeare,
Or Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado.

Nobody could play the classics finer,
As he showed me one day in the diner.
I had a bagel with lox
While he played from his buttocks:
Chopin's Etude #12 in C-minor.

He'd fart a gavotte for a starter,
And fizzle a fine serenata.
He could play on his anus
The Coriolanus:
Oof, boom,er-tum,tootle, yum tah-dah!

He was great in the Christmas Cantata,
He could double-stop fart the Toccata,
He'd boom from his ass
Bach's B-Minor Mass,
And in counterpoint, La Traviata.

Spurred on by a very high wager
With an envious German named Bager,
He'd proceeded to fart
The complete oboe part
Of a Haydn Octet in B-major.

His reportoire ranged from classics to jazz,
He achieved new effects with bubbles of gas.
With a good dose of salts
He could whistle a waltz
Or swing it in razzamatazz.

His basso profundo with timbre so rare
He rendered quite often, with power to spare.
But his great work of art,
His fortissimo fart,
He saved for the Marche Militaire.

One day he was dared to perform
The William Tell Overture Storm,
But naught could dishearten
Our spirited Spartan,
For his fart was in wonderful form.

It went off in capital style,
And he farted it through with a smile,
Then, feeling quite jolly,
He tried the finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.

The selection was tough, I admit,
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with his ass thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed...
And collapsed in a shower of shit.

His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,
Where they buried the rest of our farter,
With a gravestone of turds
Inscribed with the words:
"To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyre!

AND FINALLY:

When you're hot you're hot,
And when you're not you're not;
But when you're on the pot,
Give it all you've got.

Your "odoriferous" scribe;
Allan W Janssen