@edgarblythe,
Skid Row debating there. Although it is revealing that atheists don't fart at the dinner table. They must hold them in or leak them out sneakily. I wonder where atheits learned such manners. I suppose they must leak them out sneakily, farts being stubborn for evolutionary reasons which I can't explain due to the irreducible complexity of the process, and when the stink pervades the room they roll their eyes as if to say "Don't look at me".
Science has taught us that men fart at the rate of 35 times a day, 32 for ladies although it is not considered in good taste to mention that. So if dinner lasts an hour or so there must, on average, be nearly two farts pressing the colon and sphincter to fulfill their evolved destiny. A 2-hour dinner and atheists will be seen saying goodbye to their hosts with their eyeballs popping, standing duck-footed with one knee bent and quite red in the face and having to wait until their hostess has finished her story about her operation before being able to let it go into the car seat. I say "it" because the farts in the queue have merged into one in the meantime. So if you see an atheist looking relaxed after a long dinner you can bet your last dollar, science backing you up, that s/he has farted at the table. So then it is merely whether sneaky is better than honesty.
But spendi has thought of a solution. Atheist dinners should have one of those fart tapes, which I believe can be downloaded off the Internet, playing, so that it not only provides them with a source of amusement but also makes it difficult to tell who has farted properly at the table. The way Nature intended. For health reasons--what else?
Frank Harris has a good scene involving farting at the dinner table. It scandalised London's glitterati at the time and tarnished his reputation for all time. Personally I think his plan was to make sure that his book never fell into the hands of any young ladies of that class. It isn't easy to write for your own sex without betraying too many secrets to the enemy. Those who write for both sexes are just wood pulp salespersons. You will hardly find a woman who has read Frank Harris or a man who has read Barbara Cartland except for professional reasons. His book certainly shocked that delightfully feminine and urbane intellectual Philippa Pullar. She knifed him in her biography of him. Which in plain English means that she tried to put people off reading him. A proper feminist. No fuss. Knife in the ribs.
And it's a bit silly coming on a thread that is aggravating. The good news is that it won't be long before a Domina salon will be on every high street under a government scheme to increase the range of sentences judges have an option to employ in minor cases. It doesn't seem right that such things are the exclusive preserve of the wealthy and aggravation has to be sought out in a place like this. We are so, so understated.