Stinking rotten farts

Just had a flashback...

36 hours in a Sabre wearing CS95 sealed with waterproofs on top, Intake was compo, BV stew, sweets, tabs and plenty of tea.
Needless to say, the smell needed to be scrubbed off the skin with bleach and brillow pads, everything else discarded with flammen.
Come EndEx, peeling off the layers of clothing was fucking attrocious, In memory that was the worst smell I have ever had the misfortune of stewing in, I shudder still.
I swear to god the shite I had when it eventually did come was two foot long, unbroken and looked like it was wearing a 70's brown leather jacket.

Oh yeah, times that by 3 silent but rotten sphincters in the confines of Sabre.

A crime against humanity.
 
Luckily things returned to normal several months later when Stu died of bowel cancer.
May I just say, that my morning blanket lifters are voluble but several checks with the local quack have not indicated bowel cancer-yet- you'll be sad to hear :mrgreen:
Two of my colleagues of the past used to be much the same. One used to ignite them, which backfired-sorry for the pun, when the flames melted his trousers and the other used to come down the last couple of steps from the upstairs office, jump the last two then explode. We're all fine and healthy-touch wood:cool:. Comcen trucks had a particular aroma never forgotten for months after exe's.
 

smeg-head

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Ahhhhhh. Today. NHS place full of some absolutely gorgeous young fillies. One lift.

I'd had a curry and a few beers last night and a full cooked this morning.

Anyway, picked up what needed to be picked up and descended in said lift, as we neared the bottom I let out an absolute rip snorting, murderously vile ,quite frankly ******* disgusting fart.

Lift door opens and we get out and bugger off toot sweet. The ladies who got in after us could be seen through the office windows gagging and wretching, I'm pretty sure one of them was sick.

My oppo...."you're a filthy ****"
Why is it when you fart, you're a dirty Kunt, but when the leader of the opposition (aka Mrs Smeg) farts, she just giggles while you're retching on the floor! Honestly, if farts were coloured, hers would be Khaki Drab! Only our dog can fart worse than her.
 
Camping in the strong winds this week, we didn't get much sleep, so I thought it would be a good idea to shove SWMBO's head into my sleeping bag at 2 in the morning, shouting "Sniff my Whiff".

Apparently, I'm a bastard.

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Why is it when you fart, you're a dirty Kunt, but when the leader of the opposition (aka Mrs Smeg) farts, she just giggles while you're retching on the floor! Honestly, if farts were coloured, hers would be Khaki Drab! Only our dog can fart worse than her.
Feed them both charcoal biscuits, only one of them will thank you.
 
I can remember being on a skiing trip to Bavaria in the early 90s. We were staying in a chalet, and our room had about a dozen of us in bunk beds. As it was the middle of Winter, there was not a lot of opening of windows. One night, I came in from the bar, and everyone else was fast asleep. The smell of 15 blokes snoozing and farting was like hitting a wall. If I had gotten my head down earlier, my nose would have got used to it, and not been hit so hard.

My bunk was next to a window, and I opened it far enough to let fresh air in, without letting in too much cold.
 

sirbhp

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for just about a month now i have been farting in my sleep . is this usual at all ?
 
Pickled Eggs and beer (can be lager or bitter)
Long time ago, I was a full-screw in Germany and we got round to the subject of the pickled egg jar that was laying dormant on the shelf behind the bar, best before date was in the previous century and they looked decidedly dodgy. Having consumed at least 4 pints (that was good for me at that time). I agreed to the man-test. Now I’m no Cool Hand, but 28 eggs later I was done, which I think is a good quantity. I struggled with beer for the rest of the night and went onto Spiced Rum quite early. Now, next morning I was dying with a leg in the air, my guts were in turmoil and I felt like someone had rammed an airline up my arse in the night and inflated me to 200 psi. I spent the day feeling sorry for myself until sat down after tea with Mrs. MHT and a very young daughter. I hadn’t eaten much tea and the Mrs was worried about me, then, I felt it, a feeling like I was being tickled inside with a feather, then, pssssssst, a long slow fart like a young lad letting a balloon down slowly, it went on continuously for at least 20 seconds (a considerable time in fart time!). We sat there, her giving me that disappointed, you dirty git look. Then I got a whiff, instantly so did she and then the daughter. It was the rankest, vilest, f*ck knows where that came from smell I have ever smelt, it made a stink-bomb smell like potpourri. I kid you not, it stuck to everything it touched. I was banished to the balcony while the Mrs. went round with a tin of air freshener. It was choking, it was bloody horrible and pickled eggs have been banned from our house-hold for ever more! Be warned people, Luke was not cool post egg challenge!
 

smeg-head

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Absolutely normal mate, what isn’t normal apparently is holding the wife’s head under the duvet after!
Such strange animals, women. They never understand our sense of humour, why we wipe our knob on the curtains or why we think the vilest farts imaginable are worthy of such approbation as "swallow that fecker, it's got vitamins in it"!
They are quite happy to spend their lives chuntering on about curtains and cushion covers, why can they not leave us to our own devices. By the way, setting light to your own farts in the garage is fine until you hit an aerosol with your flamethrower! Following an impressive explosion and me extricating pieces of shrapnel from my arrse cheeks, the wife didn't accept my excuse of "I was left unsupervised" and I was promptly confined to kitchen duties.
 
A number of years ago I had the misfortune to have to travel on the underground one morning after a night of eating and drinking fuck knows what, I boarded the expected packed train and off we went, I don’t know if it was the movement of the train, the overpowering mixed smell of a hundred different aftershaves and perfumes but my stomach, which already was feeling way under the manufacturers specifications started to silently rumble, eventually the inevitable happened and I felt a fart making urgent,and aggressive demands to be let out, I took a chance and luckily it was going to prove to be a silent one, the trouble was it still felt that I was farting barbed wire, acting on the premise that anything that felt that bad to let go wouldn’t win the Chanel smell of the year award anytime soon I did what anyone would do in that situation, I immediately gave the guy standing next to me the most filthy look you could imagine, well fuck me, the stink was fucking appalling, I kept up the filthy look and very soon it hit everyone within about a 50 yard radius, with that everyone could see where I was staring and they all thought it was that poor sod, to add the cherry on top he even blushed and looked flustered, I got of at the next station to find a karzi and left him to it
 

Pisseduppardre

Old-Salt
Go Cat with chicken and Duck plus the occasional rat from the garden.
The bloody cat now has the most noxious flatulence I have ever smelt. All silent but very, very nasty. It makes the current wife's 'special time of the month' emissions smell like rose water by comparison.
 
By the way, setting light to your own farts in the garage is fine until you hit an aerosol with your flamethrower! Following an impressive explosion and me extricating pieces of shrapnel from my arrse cheeks, the wife didn't accept my excuse of "I was left unsupervised" and I was promptly confined to kitchen duties.
When first married I told her about setting light to farts, she of course wouldn’t believe me, so one evening after work I threw the light circuit breaker and reversed in the lounge, bent over and phaffff , let the best fart imaginable go, lighting it on the way, a huge flame erupted across the room. She nearly shat herself but burst into hysterics. Her laughing changed to convulsions when she then realised I’d had a blow back and my pubes were now well alight and I was doing the dance of the flaming arrseholes round the lounge beating sh*t out of my groin with my hand, by f*ck I was sore for days after!
 
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A few years ago I was working in the city and it turned out that my cousin was working under one of my old OCs at a different financial services institution. We all met up one evening, ate curry and had a few beers. So far so good.

The next day my stomach was churning - not catastrophic, but certainly a reminder that I was unused to spicy food and large(ish) volumes of fizzy lager. Having emptied my guts a couple of times, I had to go out to another company building across the road to see a colleague.

Now I worked on the 12th (top floor), and when you summoned a lift, the floors that would be stopped at lit up. I got into the lift and the only light on was 'GROUND FLOOR'. I stood in the lift and absent-mindedly let go one of those totally silent farts that heats your trousers by a further 200deg. Suddenly, the light for the 11th floor comes on and the doors open. In walked four suits (one female, three male) who were busy talking about equity derivatives or meetings to be had.

By this time my trousers were on fire and my eyes were nipping. It really. Fucking. Stank. The female, mid-sentence, suddenly and loudly retched. You know that old thing of "I've farted, don't breath in"? Well, the three males had clearly not learned that lesson as they all sniffed to see what was going on. Then they all retched. Then all four, covering their noses and mouths, looked at me as I was stood quietly at the back. I decided to own the moment and flashed them my biggest "yup, I did that" grin.

There followed eleven floors of total silence and the four of them practically sprinting out of the lift when the doors opened at the ground floor. Not my proudest moment, but pretty close.
 

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A few years ago I was working in the city and it turned out that my cousin was working under one of my old OCs at a different financial services institution. We all met up one evening, ate curry and had a few beers. So far so good.

The next day my stomach was churning - not catastrophic, but certainly a reminder that I was unused to spicy food and large(ish) volumes of fizzy lager. Having emptied my guts a couple of times, I had to go out to another company building across the road to see a colleague.

Now I worked on the 12th (top floor), and when you summoned a lift, the floors that would be stopped at lit up. I got into the lift and the only light on was 'GROUND FLOOR'. I stood in the lift and absent-mindedly let go one of those totally silent farts that heats your trousers by a further 200deg. Suddenly, the light for the 11th floor comes on and the doors open. In walked four suits (one female, three male) who were busy talking about equity derivatives or meetings to be had.

By this time my trousers were on fire and my eyes were nipping. It really. *******. Stank. The female, mid-sentence, suddenly and loudly retched. You know that old thing of "I've farted, don't breath in"? Well, the three males had clearly not learned that lesson as they all sniffed to see what was going on. Then they all retched. Then all four, covering their noses and mouths, looked at me as I was stood quietly at the back. I decided to own the moment and flashed them my biggest "yup, I did that" grin.

There followed eleven floors of total silence and the four of them practically sprinting out of the lift when the doors opened at the ground floor. Not my proudest moment, but pretty close.
Every credit mate. I've just concluded a 3 year stint as a loss prevention manager, which involved standing around watching scrotes shoplifting. Standing around causes the bowels to rumble and each time it happened, I farted. I also got some strange looks when I said to various disgusted customers "don't worry love, it's only flatulence!"
 
...Not my proudest moment, but pretty close.
Weak. You'd have done better standing there suggestively rubbing your groin and running your tongue along your top lip while maintaining eye contact.

They'll always be your bitches after that.
 

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