I don't care about people farting, as long as they have the decency to go check their underwear if the smell doesn't dissipate within 3 minutes. In fact I welcome it, because there's no point in someone sitting there in pain with a bloated stomach that's uncomfortable and makes you feel shitty.
HOWEVER, sometimes there are places you'd be best to keep them held in for just a few precious moments to avoid an incredibly embarrassing situation arising. Here's the back story of how I wished I'd heeded this vitally important information.
After a heavy night on the beer and curry with friends I got home at about 2am, I felt fine except maybe for being full to bursting. I crawled upstairs to bed and closed my eyes, started counting sheep and soon fell into a deep sleep.
At about 3am I woke up to a rumbling noise, was it a lorry going past? could it be a hungry lion just outside the bedroom door perhaps? There it was again, but it was now clear what it was, my stomach had bloated massively (even more than it normally is) and I quickly realised the situation was desperate, I needed the toilet and I needed it NOW!
I scooted myself down to the foot of the bed and crawled slowly towards the bathroom, my stomach hurting more and more, I was in agony. I won't give you the full on details but I looked like some form of elaborate sprinkler system with liquids appearing from just about every conceivable orifice.
Satisfied I'd cured myself I skulked back off to my bed, I must have fallen asleep fairly quickly and the next thing I remember was Kelly shouting at me to wake up. She explained that we needed to go into town for something vitally important, possibly a pen or something equally as vital and for some reason she couldn't go on her own.
I felt a little dizzy thanks to the large quantity of Stella I had consumed in various establishments around town but my stomach had returned to it's normal size of hideously fat so I figured I'd be safe.
We parked up in town and as I reached to unfasten my seat belt I felt it, that familiar bubbling sensation that we've all experienced in the past. The body's way of telling you that you've pissed it off and it plans on reminding you of the fact in the most embarrassing and disgusting way possible.
As we walked down the High street it happened, the first signs I needed to let one go, and I knew the chicken madras I'd had the night before was going to wreak it's terrible revenge upon me. By now I was walking oddly, like Charlie Chaplin minus the cane, and I knew it was now or never. I glanced around carefully, no one was within 20 feet of me (apart from Kelly of course) so I decided to let it go quietly......
The madras and Stella bubbles however had other ideas, It let rip like a broken fog horn, PAAAAAAAAAAAAAARP! I felt instantly better, people on the other side of the street had clearly heard it, but I tried to mask who perpetrated the crime by staring at Kelly in disbelief. It was then that I heard the tut of absolute disgust.
I turned around, nothing, nobody there at all, in fact I was starting to think I'd imagined it when I looked down. Stood behind me, licking the taste of it off of her teeth was a little woman, she was not even four feet tall, so she'd have copped the full hairdryer effect right in the nostrils. Being 6'4" tall I never thought to look down for a munchkin before polluting the area, she was not happy and neither was I. I looked at her for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, what should I say? Should I apologise? What I did next was fight or flight mentality...... I ran, I ran as fast as I could, Kelly stood there with our little oompa loompa friend in bemusement, I got about 50 yards before collapsing in an unfit heap in the doorway of the bakers.
I'm not entirely proud of this story, but I have grown to accept the fact that the situation was out of my control.
The moral of the story is as follows: Check all directions before unleashing the gaseous hounds of hell in a public place.
Hope you enjoy your dinner :)
