Thursday, 8 December 2011
My girlfriend tells me I'm obsessed with my arsehole.
Whilst there's been many occasions in the past where I've been called an arsehole by women, or indeed accused by some of them of being "anally retentive" I've never before been accused of being obsessed with my boy pussy.
Again, it's Shiva up to his old tricks, because every time my lady visits at the weekend my bowels decide they need emptying at least three times more than average. Of course, some of that is down to ingesting toxic substances, like green chillis or chilli pickle, and if my arse could speak.......well it can actually, after eating either of the above. You've heard of Rock'n'Roll widows, or darts widows, well my old lady is a toilet widow!
And that's the other thing. I really found it hard to believe that several chaps made a living farting tunes in Victorian times, one such fellow, Le Petomane, even did a show at the Moulin Rouge. I say "found" cos I reckon I could do that! Again, only when my true love is lying in bed, perhaps expectantly, does the great Gas God empower me with enough fart energy to lift off a small space shuttle! My neighbours are starting to get arsey(sorry!)cos they think I've started to play the Tuba, and practise at unreasonable hours!
It's unbelievable, the fart sounds like a lengthy low drone, especially with added porcelain reverb, a bit like a hunting horn. Stags and similar animals gather outside my house excited that there may be some "rut action" to be had. Confused Captains of small ships knock and enquire as to whether I have a rogue foghorn. It's all getting a bit too much....
Green house gases? Don't make me laugh! It's the gas from my bumhole. I bet there's a huge hole in the ozone layer above my house! I'm a walking environmental disaster, and all the time scientists have been blaming cows and termites. Oh shit.......
Posted by Crispian Saint Boulevard at 12:59