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    The Art of Fart: The Joy of Flatulence!
    The Art of Fart: The Joy of Flatulence!
    The Art of Fart: The Joy of Flatulence!
    Ebook122 pages2 hours

    The Art of Fart: The Joy of Flatulence!

    By Dougie Brimson

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    About this ebook

    It is the most natural of bodily functions. In some countries it is considered a social faux pas whilst in others it is regarded as a sign of gratitude.

    For most men, the very act brings a sense of self-worth whilst as a comedy tool it is virtually unrivalled. Yet the majority of women regard it with disgust and despise the fact that we men laugh at it (even though they do it just as much as we do).

    It is, of course, farting.

    In The Art of Fart, bestselling author and the nation’s most eminent Fartologist, Dougie Brimson, explores the issue of flatulence in its varied and pungent detail.

    From the simple basic science of why we do it at all right through to the issue of ‘stealth farting’ and all points in between, no gruff related subject remains unexplored in what is quite possibly the most politically incorrect book ever!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBookPartnership.com
    Release dateMar 27, 2013
    ISBN9781908886088
    The Art of Fart: The Joy of Flatulence!

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      Book preview

      The Art of Fart - Dougie Brimson

      Introduction

      Farting Etiquette

      Out and About

      The Battle of the Sexes

      The Blame Game

      The Appliance of Science

      The Process of Pootrification

      Brewing Up

      The Art of Fart

      The Delivery

      The Bum Bassoon

      The Fart in Art

      Famous Farters

      Methane in the Media

      Farting Fun

      Tooting Toys

      The Real Deal

      Extreme Guffery

      The Big Questions

      Urban Myths

      Glossary

      The Final Blast!

      Contacts

      About the Author

      Also from Dougie Brimson

      Copyright

      It is one of the most natural of bodily functions. Humans do it, animals do it, birds do it and there is even research to suggest that fish communicate with it.

      For most men, it provides a ready sense of achievement and even self-worth whilst as a comedy tool it is almost unrivalled. Yet doing it in public is almost universally regarded as a social faux pax whilst in a few countries it is actually illegal.

      It is of course, farting. And I am a huge fan. Well, truth to tell I am more than a simple fan for having studied the act of breaking wind for most of my life I consider myself to be far more than a simple aficionado or even basic fartsmith. With my knowledge and experience, I am actually something of a fartologist.

      Now I realise that is an arrogant claim to make and so it is only fair that I provide a quick resume of my rectal related record to prove that I have the knowledge and experience to back it up. So here goes....

      My love affair with farting began at an early age. In fact one of my earliest and fondest childhood memories involves an enforced overnight stop at my grandparents house in Tottenham where thanks to a particularly impenetrable pea-souper settling over North London, myself and my four brothers were forced to top and tail in a double bed overnight.

      As you can imagine, the inevitable emissions soon created a pea-souper of our own but they also provided us with a great deal of quality entertainment. It also proved conclusively that a fart cannot render you unconscious. Quite the opposite.

      However, it is fair to say that the greatest influence on my life as a fartologist has been my father. Not simply for his own proficiency in this area, but for his ability to extract as much enjoyment from the process as is humanly possible.

      Initially, this involved relating tales from his own youth and in particular, his period of National Service when whilst undergoing his basic training, he met a fellow conscript who was able to fart at will.

      This was the kind of thing legends are made of. For example, whenever they would go on parade, which back then was often, this chap would station himself in the row either behind or in front of my old man who, knowing what was going to happen, would invariably be forced to try and suppress giggling as the inspecting officers approached.

      Of course the anticipation coupled with the odd hissed comment from his tormentor would make his struggle even harder and by the time the inevitable trouser roar arrived, my dad would be almost beetroot with pain. Occasionally he wouldn’t be able to help himself and would simply collapse in a heap of laughter which would result in him receiving a major league bollocking. Indeed, given that my dad went on to become a comic, I have often thought that this was where he developed his comic timing.

      In later years, as his tribe of kids grew older and the tales of his youth became increasingly boring to us, he was forced to find other ways of amusing himself, usually at our expense. I certainly can’t recall him letting one go and not apportioning blame to me or one of my brothers but as time passed and we became more used to the old mans tactics, his anal activities became limited to a witty post-gruff comment.

      Yet even though we were growing increasingly proficient ourselves and were frequently using our gruff grenades on each other both for fun and in competition, my four brothers and I always knew that he was the master. We were also well aware that if we were ever going to extract the long-overdue revenge we sought, we would need to find a new delivery method. It finally arrived when we discovered the art of fart-capture.

      Initially, we would fart into our hands and imprison the smell between our palms before pushing our hands into the faces of our victims. However, the problem with this method is that the gas is able to seep through the fingers quite quickly and shoving your non-smelly hands under the nose of an angry sibling was hardly worth the punch it inevitably attracted. As a consequence we moved first on to the use of tea cups -although we were forced to stop this by an extremely unhappy mother- and then screw top jars. The latter proving extremely effective as they not only allowed us to store the farts until required but provided an excellent delivery vehicle. Place under dads’ nose and unscrew lid as he inhales. Simple.

      This was fine when he was asleep but things were very different when he was awake because given that he once held a black belt in Judo and had boxed for the Army, only a Kamikaze pilot would contemplate such an attack when he was conscious. As a result we eventually developed what would prove to be our best and most efficient delivery method; the crisp packet.

      Fart into bag, twist neck and then approach target from behind. Leap onto back, stuff bag over nose and cling on for dear life.

      It was crude but effective and had the added bonus of providing an exciting ‘Bucking Bronco’ style ride for a minute or so. However, it is fair to say that any success was more to do with the actual delivery process as opposed to the forcing of any actual odour ingestion. After all, a Salt&Vinegar flavoured fart is hardly much of a weapon.

      Yet the fact that we were not only becoming more proficient but increasingly on the offensive clearly unsettled the old man and as the level and quantity of attacks grew, my increasingly nervous father came up with a new idea. Rather than utilise the fart as a weapon he decided that we would do something together as a family and employ our collective guffs as a form of family entertainment. We began recording them.

      It was a genius idea and with a cassette recorder kept on permanent pause and a microphone ready to go, it was not unknown for a C60 tape to fill within two to three days. I cannot tell you the fun we had playing these tapes back much to the utter disgust of my mother and sister. Some years later my brother even put together a ‘Best Of…’ CD complete with titles. It was quite simply awesome.

      But by this time the family had started to drift away from the home and I soon joined the exodus by enlisting in the Royal Air Force. However, if anything my interest in flatulence actually increased from that point on. You try living in a 22 man room and not having farts impact on you!

      Ironically, it was the area of Chemical, Biological and Nuclear warfare which most often served to provide me with the best fart related entertainment whilst in the military. The gas mask in particular proved to be an important tool in my education as when you are forced to wear one for up to ten days at a stretch, the absence of odour soon teaches you to appreciate and develop other elements of the anal art.

      That is not to say that we did not have any aroma related fun whilst

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