True Love In Edinburgh

Fart Story A few weeks ago, the better half and I decided that we would bulk buy tinned goods, to save buying them every week (or to prepare for the Nuclear winter...).

To save a bit of cash on this exercise, we thought we should get 'em from a well known online grocery retailer... meaning TESCO...

Anyway, in unrelated news, a weekend activity that has recently gained popularity with my beloved and me is to eat a lot of tinned sweet corn and then serenade each other with impressive emissions from our posteriors. Nice, eh? We've been together six years and gas ain't gonna come between us now (just strain things slightly).

However, upon feeding this weekend, I forgot the consequences of excessive sweet corn consumption and merrily chowed down a corn infested dinner while conversing with the visiting mother in law to be.

Cue half an hour later to when we are watching a tense psychological thriller on DVD. I am rapidly inflating with fetid gas as I struggle to hold in what would normally be proudly expelled (and then celebrated with interpretive dance and songs in the mother tongue).

When the pain becomes unbearable, I excuse myself to the kitchen, where I shut the door, open the window, hang my arse out and expel the kind of flatulence that would have uni students the world over applauding. I am prone to exaggeration, but on this occasion I swear to you I am not. My expulsions last for well over a minute.

Finally the performance ends and I remember there is a lunar eclipse tonight, so promptly hang my head out the window to have a look.

Yup, there were a couple of dozen people from my block of flats lying on the grass outside my kitchen window. All rugged up with telescopes and duvets, waiting for the exciting lunar activity to commence.

Bet they didn’t see that one coming!

And it gets worse. Thoroughly ashamed (but strangely proud) I return to the living room to watch the rest of the film. By and by the mother in law leaves to make use of the facilities, and I turn to the wonderful love of my life to relate the above story to her, to which she replies, "I know, we heard it. Mum was very impressed, well done dear!”

And it gets even worse. The next day I was at work and the rumblings had not ceased. So I sat uncomfortably at my desk, making frequent trips to the toilets to let out some truly impressive trumpets. Only problem being, I forgot my security pass, and when I completed a performance, I had to wait around in the fuggy, foul smelling stairwell, until someone with their pass came along and opened the door, letting me out and copping a gobful as a thank you from my sweet corn addled innards.