Jump to content

Farting in public places


Recommended Posts

I was on holiday in the Hebridean islands with my dad and sister years ago. I kept dropping stinking farts in the car. At first it was funny but after a few it was a case of "right, that's enough." But I kept going and going, my dad and sister were getting increasingly furious. Eventually, I released a "silent but deadly" one and before anyone had the chance to smell it I burst out laughing at the anticipation. That gave the game away. My dad slammed on the brakes, got out and wrestled me out of the back of the car. He got back in and drove away, leaving me behind somewhere on the Isle of Jura.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Replies 286
  • Created
  • Last Reply
On ‎29‎/‎11‎/‎2013 at 12:23, jamamafegan said:

My dad once threw me out the car for farting while we were driving on Jura. I was in tears of laughter but he was absolutely livid. He drove up the road a hundred metres or so before I was allowed back in. Bit pointless really.

Farting in public is great fun when you're with mates who get embarrassed about it. Walking through Tesco just squeezing them out and dashing away, leaving your mates to receive the dirty looks.

 

19 minutes ago, jamamafegan said:

I was on holiday in the Hebridean islands with my dad and sister years ago. I kept dropping stinking farts in the car. At first it was funny but after a few it was a case of "right, that's enough." But I kept going and going, my dad and sister were getting increasingly furious. Eventually, I released a "silent but deadly" one and before anyone had the chance to smell it I burst out laughing at the anticipation. That gave the game away. My dad slammed on the brakes, got out and wrestled me out of the back of the car. He got back in and drove away, leaving me behind somewhere on the Isle of Jura.

Wasn't funny the first time. ;)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

My story of shame dates back to February this year. I was heading up to Laggan/Newtonmore for a Hillwalking weekend, and as per usual left Forfar at 5am to head up the A9. I usually have a breakfast on such occasions of strong coffee and porridge. Whilst this generally fuels me up excellently for walking, it also has the unfortunate side effect of rendering it impossible for me to drive beyond Blair Atholl's public toilets without taking a shite. A few minutes later, with the deed done I walked back to my car feeling like a king, sparking up a celebratory cigarette before continuing my journey to the village of Laggan, then a few miles beyond, to Garva Bridge, a pleasant early morning winters' drive interspersed with the occasionally satisfyingly ripping fart necessitating opening the windows. 

I parked up, ironically disturbing a guy who was having a sly shit under the bridge :lol: and started the fairly easy ascent of a munro called Geal Charn. With no one else on the hill, I quite happily (and loudly) farted away to my hearts content on a perfect snowy winter day. Afterwards I headed to a bunkhouse in Newtonmore to get settled in for the night, awaiting the arrival of a couple of mates for tomorrow's climb. I had a quick chat with a young german couple while I was making a coffee, who seemed to be in a real hurry to get out for a bite to eat for some reason. It was only after going for a shower that i realised the full horror of my situation. One of my rippers on the hill had resulted in a minor follow-through much to my complete horror. I'd spent 3-4 hours wandering about, chatted to a few folk having sharted. It fucking stank. I stood there in the shower room staring in disbelief at my soiled underwear before having perhaps the most thorough shower in human history and throwing the offending clothing out, wrapped in about 5 layers of carrier bag. 

Luckily this hasn't happened again, but I was scared to fart for about a fortnight afterwards. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

10 hours ago, jupe1407 said:

I had a quick chat with a young german couple while I was making a coffee, who seemed to be in a real hurry to get out for a bite to eat for some reason. It was only after going for a shower that i realised the full horror of my situation. One of my rippers on the hill had resulted in a minor follow-through much to my complete horror.

Knowing what Germans are like, you'd probably given them an idea and they wanted to be alone so they could crap on each other...

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I was at a big family gathering at Pitlochry a few years back (how la-dee-da, I know), and there was some old chap easily in his 90s who I'd never met.

He needed a bit of help negotiating the steps down to the garden, and with the first long brave step came a good 5 sec long low-tone squigy fart that had my cousins and I having a serious Bigus-Dickus moment (like the Monty Python scene, nothing incestuous) before one set us all off in tears. This wasn't helped by a burst of short farts with each remaining step. I would be stunned if the old boy never had any skidmarks after that.

My brother accidentally snorted lager up his nose as a result and did the classic spray laugh thing as other killjoy family members looked on and gave him the 'grow up' look. Their loss I guess.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Had a slightly embarrassing moment two nights ago in the Wynn Encores new poker room, was in seat 1 had a youngish female dealer to my right and an older Asian woman on my left. Wasn't a lot of table chat until I let out the first of my silent assassins, few moans and groans before it all went back to normal until I got a little excited at pocket kings and thought another silent was about to be delivered, table went silent and PARP. Thought someone was playing a trumpet behind my seat. The female dealer was absolutely raging my kings held against A J suited and nobody even cracked a smile. Cashed in my chips about 4/5 hands later with my face as red as my $5 dollar chips. 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Not my own story but told to me by a mate at work. There used to be a guy who worked for my company who was in the process of becoming a woman, not at the surgery stage yet but at the point where he was dressing as a woman. So my mate is in a small office with him and despite being 6ft, 16 stone and with a bit of 5 oclock shadow he’s trying to act all feminine with a blouse on and heels and painted nails sitting with his legs crossed. So they were chatting away about work stuff and my mate cracks a joke, the guy starts giggling away and then lets out the loudest manliest laugh-fart you have ever heard.. my mate was laughing so hard he had tears running down his face and had to leave to room to compose himself. When he finally calmed down and went back in the room the guy just carried on with the work talk like nothing had happened.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

F*ck sake. 

Today is Wednesday; the shittest day of the week. In a well-meaning but ultimately fruitless attempt to cheer ourselves up, a few workmates and I went for a liquid lunch at the boozer round the corner. The pub was empty, with the exception of a few regulars. Fast forward to one one of the saddest scenes I've experienced in a while.

While waiting at the bar, I make eye contact with barman and lean forward, about to place my order. As I take breath and prepare to speak, the old, balding wreck standing a few stools away lets out a short but audible fart. It sounded like a giant blowing into an empty tube of Pringles — his arsehole obviously torn to tatters years before, offering no resistance to his oxidised prisoners early release. Under normal circumstances, this might be quite funny. I might have even chosen to ignore it and carry on — but Wednesday isn't a normal day.

I turned 90 degrees to look at him and just as I'd finished my pintless pivot, his friend responded in kind, producing a low, purring growl that was similar to the noise a pigeon makes when you shoo it away. The barman locked eyes with me again, and I felt his sorrow. As an awkward silence embraced us both, the two old men burst out laughing as if this was normal behaviour.

Has any other P&B readers ever experienced a similar situation?

Have you ever had a fart-off in a local pub?

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Nothing better than dropping an absolute stinker in the supermarket. Strong enough to compete with the stench of the Morrisons fish counter.



I do it when standing next to my girlfriend before scarpering leaving her to take the blame.
Link to comment
Share on other sites

F*ck sake. 
Today is Wednesday; the shittest day of the week. In a well-meaning but ultimately fruitless attempt to cheer ourselves up, a few workmates and I went for a liquid lunch at the boozer round the corner. The pub was empty, with the exception of a few regulars. Fast forward to one one of the saddest scenes I've experienced in a while.
While waiting at the bar, I make eye contact with barman and lean forward, about to place my order. As I take breath and prepare to speak, the old, balding wreck standing a few stools away lets out a short but audible fart. It sounded like a giant blowing into an empty tube of Pringles — his arsehole obviously torn to tatters years before, offering no resistance to his oxidised prisoners early release. Under normal circumstances, this might be quite funny. I might have even chosen to ignore it and carry on — but Wednesday isn't a normal day.
I turned 90 degrees to look at him and just as I'd finished my pintless pivot, his friend responded in kind, producing a low, purring growl that was similar to the noise a pigeon makes when you shoo it away. The barman locked eyes with me again, and I felt his sorrow. As an awkward silence embraced us both, the two old men burst out laughing as if this was normal behaviour.
Has any other P&B readers ever experienced a similar situation?
Have you ever had a fart-off in a local pub?



[emoji38]
Link to comment
Share on other sites

After an evening out with workmates, my colleague and I were on our way up to our hotel rooms when he let his curry and red wine infused scent loose in the lift just as the doors were closing. At the last second a hand appeared between the doors and they opened to let the traveller in. "That was lucky" he announced before almost gagging as he took his first breath while the doors closed behind him!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

17 hours ago, LiamDFC said:

F*ck sake. 

Today is Wednesday; the shittest day of the week. In a well-meaning but ultimately fruitless attempt to cheer ourselves up, a few workmates and I went for a liquid lunch at the boozer round the corner. The pub was empty, with the exception of a few regulars. Fast forward to one one of the saddest scenes I've experienced in a while.

While waiting at the bar, I make eye contact with barman and lean forward, about to place my order. As I take breath and prepare to speak, the old, balding wreck standing a few stools away lets out a short but audible fart. It sounded like a giant blowing into an empty tube of Pringles — his arsehole obviously torn to tatters years before, offering no resistance to his oxidised prisoners early release. Under normal circumstances, this might be quite funny. I might have even chosen to ignore it and carry on — but Wednesday isn't a normal day.

I turned 90 degrees to look at him and just as I'd finished my pintless pivot, his friend responded in kind, producing a low, purring growl that was similar to the noise a pigeon makes when you shoo it away. The barman locked eyes with me again, and I felt his sorrow. As an awkward silence embraced us both, the two old men burst out laughing as if this was normal behaviour.

Has any other P&B readers ever experienced a similar situation?

Have you ever had a fart-off in a local pub?

We managed to make a pub on Sauchiehall St close early thanks to our emissions.

My work used to have an annual boys' curry night in the mid-90s - this time we went to an Indian buffet job about 5.30 and hit a few boozers afterwards. For some reason, this year it was on a strange night - a Monday or Tuesday as opposed to the more usual Thursday on Friday, and most of the pubs we went into were quiet. By about 9 we were in some place on the north side of Sauchiehall St where there were maybe 12-14 of us, a couple of other scattered punters, the bar staff and no music playing.

"FAAAAART!"

Thus it began. The food we'd had earlier had journeyed far enough, and somebody dropped one which sounded enormous in the cavernous empty pub. We dissolved in laughter, and within a minute someone responded with a two-tone squeaker which set us off again. We continued in the same vein - by this point everybody had a bullet in the chamber as it were, and it developed into a competition of sorts.

We were having a great time, and didn't notice that the few other patrons had thought "fuck this" and left, leaving us playing Duelling Banjos with our arses round a couple of tables surrounded by a brown cloud in a corner under the scrutiny of the increasingly disapproving bar staff.

"Right, youse - drink up and get out. We're closing..."

It was still before 10pm.

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Donkeys years ago in my school days, a few of us used to eat 2 or 3 of packs of cools mints(sugar free sorbitol sweets) each at dinner time. This would be followed by a sustained few hours of farting in maths or history or whatever it was, with the first to get diarrhea being the loser.

We would have done heroin, but we listened to Zammo.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...