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Someone is trying to copyright the phrase "pull my finger".
This cannot be allowed to happen.
If you're a judge and don't know what it means, this from the deposition filed in court:
The phrase "pull my finger," and derivations thereof, are generally known and widely understood in American society to be a joke or prank regarding flatulence. The prank begins when the prankster senses the deep stirrings of flatulence. The prankster then requests that an unsuspecting person pull [his or her] finger. The prankster extends his index finger to the victim. As the victim pulls the prankster’s finger, his flatulence erupts so as to suggest a causal relationship between the pulling of the finger and the subsequent expulsion of gas. In other words, the phrase "pull my finger" is understood to be a description of the act of passing gas.
As illustrated by this.
The ultimate labour saving device, if you can't be arsed (as it were) to fart for yourself.
Parp parp!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJSkDwp6c_g
"Cracks up" ... fnar fnar
Christmas brussels sprout fart fest.
Top man, fat face.
As I wander aimlessly into my late 40s, the subject of this thread becomes more and more pertinent. At least I'm still young enough to know I've let one go...
Happy Xmas, may your plate be full of said sprouts!
Excellent work fat face.
I haven't seen this thread before, but I find that my pre-run routine necessitates the need for a couple of large farts, whilst visiting the smallest room in the house. If I don't follow this carefully rehearsed ritual, I am in danger of the need of an unglamorous dump, mid-run, often at very short notice. So, I tend to adopt a strange looking running style that ensures that no fart can escape, because if even the smallest squeak is heard I know this is tell-tale sign that I am in danger of a follow through.
So, all my trumping is done pre-run and post-run. If it's done on the run, I know I'm potentially in trouble.
For some reason this thread reminds me of this oldie, but goodie.
http://www.ronsonwriter.com/content/view/69/9/
That must be a spoof ... surely
I have been quite well behaved this week after majoring on the brussels last week. But tonight's dinner is cauliflower risotto, and cauliflower is almost as good as the sprouts for production of essence de Muttley.
(It's why my tail whizzes in my piccie, aids distribution).
Just saw this thread....is this because of today's weather??
It wasn't weather related. Just an ability that we like to brag about.
Well, the festive period has not disappointed. Scientific research has proven pickled onions to be the best 'fuel'.
Leftover sprouts fried up with plenty of red onions and garlic as bubble, followed by a run. That is all.
Homemade pea and ham soup has proved to be a big hit in our house this week.
Home made Jerusalem Fartichoke and ham soup appears to have left a nasty small in this house.
Good job the dog was with us yesterday evening, to take the blame for the after-effects of my potato curry at lunchtime.
I owe it some special treats for that.
Oh no! Haribo sweets cause "calamitous flatulence"
I have found that 3-days-in-a-row lunches of hummus and carrot sticks have a particular effect on the volume and ferocity of my flatulence.
I have not knowingly eaten cauliflower in many years - even I can't handle that smell. It'd melt my contact lenses to my eyes.............
I've taken to having a couple of hardboiled eggs regularly. The resultant whiff that gets expelled an hour to two later makes even my eyes water and leaves me needing to open the windows pretty sharpish.
A timely reminder that ventilation is recommended, to avoid a build-up of gas
And beware of static electricity.
So remember to leave the bedroom window open at night and not to have nylon bedsheets.
Frrrrap ..... zzzzzzzz ..... BANG!
I've always admired Timothy Spall as an actor (Auf Wiedersehen Pet and lots of other great works). But he seems like a decent chap in this brief interview in the Grauniad.
Especially where he says that he is to be prone to flatulence and its undeserved glorification.
Undeserved?
I bask in the glory of mine. Only this very afternoon I dropped one in the home office and I thought I'd got away with it. But one hour later Sezz could still smell it.
Blimey. In footie you can get sent off for cutting the cheese. Thank God we don't get disqualified in races ... my medal tally would be, erm, close to zero