I have recently come up with a stirling scheme, which helps me to get through my working day. At our work, we all sit at those little desks, separated by little partitions that you can peep over whilst your sat down. It's great for a wee bit of privacy, but is absolute murder when you've dropped one and you want to share it with your colleagues. This morning i've been sh-itting like a good 'un. We were given some poncey pasta at Christmas and my wife cooked it up last night with a bit of a creamy sauce. You never what the correct mix is for farting gold, but the two cans of Guinness I had, followed by one of the kids Kinder eggs, seemed to have paid off and i've been reaping rich, marsh gas dividends since I came in. This was all very good, but how could I be a jack bas-tard and leave my mates out. The bloke who sits next to me posts on here as URFA, and is an unrefined Geordie schweinhund. My technique is thus. As soon as I get that bubbly feeling and theres one in the pipe, I bomb the fan up and shout to him, "FAN ON THREE" (three being the highest setting) He simply replies in an increasingly more feeble voice. "GAS GAS GAS" The trouble is, he's been out of the army for years. He could bang all the mess tins in the world together, but no respirator would be forthcoming. Anyway, even if he had one, he wouldn't get it on quick enough. To beat the fan he'd have to follow the slogan, "Avoid Convoy's poo - Mask in Two" My ricker has been on permanent send all afternoon. The disseminating properties of the fan are proving to be so effective, someone who sits over 20 metres away has just described the smell permeating the office as being reminiscent of the time he found a half eaten cat in his wheelie bin. Has anyone else used office furniture to further establish their genetic footprint?