[Closed] I haven't been able to fart...

MTFU or its just nature announcing that it will wreak havoc on your aging body

Shart with pride.

Maybe it's just a confidence issue, the body can't do it if the mind doesn't have belief.

Agree with Pondo.

You need to believe in your poop.

You just have a "sensitive" arse.

In much the same way that Tena ladypants are for "sensitive" bladders.

[i]I'm going to have to plug myself with Immodium before a trip to London tomorrow[/i]

I think you're not supposed to try and use it as a suppository?

Stay classy Stoner 😆

As an atheist my belief in anything has always been a challenge.

However, were it not for the fact that I have a sphincter like a G7 summit (a ring of steel keeping the shit on the inside), I'd be sporting some fine go-faster stripes down my trouser legs by now.

Have you considered that it is Cat AIDS and you will definitely die?

well, I've not been feline myself of late.

This whole thread was an excuse for you to use that line, wasn't it.

This whole thread was an excuse for you to use that line, wasn't it.

He'd be lion if he said no.

I'm sure there is a purrfectly good reason for your condition.

*paws for applause*

Stop being such a pus(Stop it. MODS)

Stop being successful a pus(Stop it. MODS)

Predictive text claims another victim...

🙄

The chap in the cubicle next to me this morning in the office lav sat down and immediately started to unleash some astounding arse-pyrotechnics.

It all started out rather high pitched, like a muted trumpet. If you imagine the sound of Louis Armstrong warming up then you get the general gist. I had to bite the back of my hand to stifle the inevitable giggles.

For a few moments, there was a pregnant pause before Le Petomaine next door suddenly went all Wagnerian with bassy, bombastic bum blasts. The first five notes of "Ride of the Valkyries" was recognisable, at this point I had tears streaming down my face. I fully expected a buxom Teuton to burst into the gents and start wailing away.

I guess that's the most unique performance of the Ring Cycle I've ever heard.

Stoner, was that you in a lav cubicle at 09:57 in an office near Waterloo today?

I guess that's the most unique performance of the Ring Cycle I've ever heard

Götterdämmerdung?

[i]Götterdämmerdung? [/i]

A bit Thor thertainly.

bassy, bombastic bum blasts

Frickan hell, wot an affliction!

Götterdämmerdung?

A bit Thor thertainly.

Stop it, my sides hurt.

Frickan

It's all down to hoop control. Practice over the thunder closet. Then move to the bath/shower. Progress to some gruts you don't mind losing to the inevitable squitter you weren't quite ready for.

Bonus..

Shits [i]and[/i] giggles...

Top thread

Like any skill, it's about practice. Get yourself into trap-1 and give it a go. Train in the office first of course before bringing your A-game back home to impress the family.

Top work pjm1974

I am having problems the other way,i imagine my ring piece looks like Mick Jaggers lips blowing in a force 10,when i'm boffing

s like Mick Jaggers lips blowing in a force 10,when i'm boffing

Boffing.

[img] [/img]

Unless you did mean what it means.

I am having problems the other way,i imagine my ring piece looks like Mick Jaggers lips blowing in a force 10,when i'm boffing

I read that three times before I remembered that "boff" is also another word for "fart."

Thanks PJM1974 i really needed that 😆

Boffing is not a fart where I come from....

yep, a boff was a fart when i was a kid

where I come from....

Fnaar, fnaar.

[img] [/img]

Chocolate soda stream

Any follow [s]through[/s] up, sorry, up on this story re: today's train journey?

I genuinely appreciated this musical styling:

Stoner, was that you in a lav cubicle at 09:57 in an office near Waterloo today

But the poor guy in the cubicle next to me in the local who said, "Please, please" through his clenched teeth takes the biscuit imho.

I started this reply with something about sharing Stoner's pain and then decided that was entirely inappropriate.

So same here mate. A week with arse based cacophony best described as a horse learning to play the trumpet. Wagnerian classics arranged for small intestinal trombone and rectal oboe. I've had to wait for someone to activate the hand driers before unleashing the orchestral tumult.

At no point has even the chambering of a 'relief fart' been worthy of consideration. It was twitching like a rabbit's nose down there.

I treated it with Merlot. Top down I hasten to add. Things improved and moved immeasurably. So you'll just have to sit it out. Possibly on the throne. I've certainly caught up with my reading.

My ageing parents used to stay on various caravan sites, always opting for the quieter Caravan Club "no young people or fun" types. We joined them for an evening once when they stayed near here and I visited the clinically clean toilet block. As I sat contemplating there was a desperate shuffle of approaching sandals, and the next door cubicle was wrenched open. The sound of hastily dropped polyester tailored shorts and the the flump of buttocks onto the seat was followed by an award winning series of volleys. Each one a second or so long, repeated too many times to count, and of course amplified by the tiled surroundings. As I sat there in bemused wonder, I could only guess at the diet that would have given one person quite so much wind. There was more to come though; a triumphant, resonating finale that had the late summer craneflies scrambling desperately towards the gently humming striplights.

Biting my finger to stop myself laughing, I awaited the now inevitable sound of whatever duck egg had been quacking to get out, but, amazingly, nothing. There was a gentle, but puzzled clearing of throat from the cubicle, a couple of pants and puffs, then the sounds of the shorts being drawn back up, followed by the gentle jingle of brown leather sandals retreating.

Rushing slightly, I finished, washed and got to the door just in time to see the protagonist crossing the site to one of only three other vans present. A guy in his sixties with an immaculate Volvo parked next to his caravan. It may have been my imagination, but it struck me he was limping slightly.

We had a teacher who was crying in our class about sleepless nights.

Friend then did a huge fart and the poor teacher shouted that's it and ran out.

Poor guy.

Loud as hell parp from protein powder apparently. Kids can cruel and loud.

True story.

I've had a celebrity dump encounter.

I won't name names, or name previous employers but hopefully you'll get the gist.

I used to work for a well known highbrow entertainment organisation in the West End. One morning, I stumbled down the steps to the First Floor lavs, which consisted of one urinal and one cubicle. Now, the head of marketing usually rocked up and befouled the air of Cubicle One with the type of obnoxious fumes that cling to the walls, yellow the paint and age the plaster.

I was aiming at the urinal in a carefree fashion, when the door behind me opened and in walked a very, very famous gentleman who may or may not have been a member of a late 1960s comedy troupe which had three series on BBC television followed by a number of groundbreaking and seminal comedy movies that influenced a generation of alternative comedians.

I was starstruck to say the least, it's no exaggeration to say that he was - and remains - a personal hero of mine.

Anyway, I was mid-whizz so I uttered a non-committal "Morning" and carried on.

The cubicle door shut, I heard a belt buckle hit the floor and the seat take the strain of the distinguished man's derriere.

Unfortunately, despite his genius, the great man mistimed the courtesy cough a tad so there was a slight delay between the two events that meant the cack-cacophony wasn't properly muted.

*cough-BLAAAAART!*

I was sorely disappointed that he didn't just whistle the closing bars to The Liberty Bell just before the event for comedy effect.

All other stories are Palin into insignificance next to this ^^^

Ripping Yarn!

Not giving us the name is taking the Michael, tho.

I should point out that there are other surviving members of this well known comedy act from the late 1960s, one of whom may or may not have dropped the kids off six feet away from me.

It may well be that it was another who cut the Cleese, or possibly a third member who sat Idle on the seat that day.

Man nappy?

I know of several MPs that have experience in these matters.

Like a rack of snooker balls this morning.
All is well with the world once more.
Thank you all for your prayers.

I'd give it a couple of days before making the proud announcement.

Like a rack of snooker balls this morning.

I'd be more worred by that than the squits!