The Fart Thread!!

MY HISTORY (courtesy of mrmethane.com)

Hello everybody, Mr Methane here, welcome to my web site dedicated to giving you a blow by blow account of my flatulent activities.
A lot of people ask me how I got started in the business of being a performance flatulist while others just bore the arse off me by going on about Joseph Pujol, alias Le Petomane as if they're telling you something you didn't already know. The answer to the above question is both long and for some people very boring, so I shall begin.

First of all, I should start by making it quite clear that there isn't a career structure for practitioners of Controlled Anal Voicing. No advertisements for Flatulists in the Situations Vacant columns and definitely no guidance about the vocation at your local Careers Centre. This said, once you are established and firing on all cylinders, it is possible to get on a Run in which case you'll find yourself cleaning up.

In my case it all started quite by accident at the tender age of fifteen. I was practising the Full Lotus position encouraged by my Yoga loving sister when I discovered the ability to breath both fore and aft, so to speak. The next day I gave a lunch time performance for a group of friends in the squash courts at Ryles Park County High School, Macclesfield, Cheshire, England. I think twenty rapid fire rasping farts in under a minute was the order of the day, quite an achievement and so popular was it that this became a regular event, swelling my pocket money reserves. A full time career as a performing flatulist was at this stage not on the cards however.

I left school and started work for British Rail a few months before my eighteenth birthday. Initially at Macclesfield Station but then upon moving into the line of promotion to Train Driver (Locomotive Engineer) I did spells based at Norwood Junction, Crewe, Longsight, Bury and Buxton. During much of this time the songbird was mute. Then it happened, I remember it well.

I was on a course at Ladywell House, Preston, learning the finer points of the Brush Type 4 Locomotive, latterly referred to as a Class 47. This is a 2580hp, Mixed Traffice, Diesel Electric Locomotive of 1960's vintage. The course was thorough and comprehensive with schematic diagrams of all the Locomotives component parts and systems. We had just broke off for a quick cup of tea mid-way through the fuel system, I think we'd just had an overspeed situation and the fuel rack had moved the helix into a no fuel position causing the engine to shut down, or something like that. Whatever, I remember feeling that I had never had so much fun since the last time I had cleaned the oven. With that in mind I decided to inject a little humour into the proceedings with my long forgotten but thankfully just remembered Trouser Trumpet. Needless to say it was a runaway sensation and the source of much needed light relief among the group on that day. More significantly, word of my ability went before me around the national railway system and "Lay Over" periods at far flung mess rooms would result in requests for a quick tune on my Anal Organ from fellow traincrews.

In the late 1980's I transferred to Buxton motive power depot in Derbyshire. Buxton was a small close knit freight depot whose primary undertaking was to move large volumes of limestone from the nearby quarries. The staff had some great nicknames such as: Don Pong and Clay Balls. Don Pong had that most terrible of afflictions "The Stinking Hide", he also had a habit of drying out his snot ridden handkerchief on the locomotive's cab heater filling the air with germs, much to the consternation of anyone riding with him. Clay Balls on the other hand was a clean non stinking man who did not interact with his work mates at all. He showed no signs of any emotions whatsoever and popular legend consequently had it that although his adult body was producing sperm in his scrotal sack, this lack if emotion led to it not being drained off in the required manner, causing solidification, hence the name Clay Balls. As someone who masterbates on a regular basis I found this situation quite distressing. However, it is difficult to impart upon someone with forty years seniority the benefits and importance of a good wank!

It was while working at Buxton MPD that I met a fellow Driver called Paul Genders. Paul Genders (I mention his name twice because he gets upset if I don't) also played in a Macclesfield based Soul/Blues cover band called 'The Screaming Beavers'! fronted by Dave 'Fat Bastard' Kinsella, owner of The Pizza Pantry at 41-43 Bond Street, Macclesfield. Every Monday the Beavers held a club night at a local venue and Paul invited me to appear one Monday evening as a guest artist to which I agreed. I remember my chief reservation about this first truly public engagement being the prospect of upsetting or offending someone's spouse. I needn't have worried, the audience was breathless with admiration and the subsequent demand for performance was such that I had to make the transition from Train Driver to full time Flatulist, in order to fulfil an insatiable demand. You can't ignore the chance of being able to tell your Grandchildren that you made a living by Farting. The rest is as they say, "History".

Speaking a truly international language, I was projected onto the World Stage, generally blowing audiences away as I put the Art into Fart, the Hit into ****, the Crap into Rap and the Biz into Showbiz. In the words of American actor Kelsey Grammer, "This man took the history books by the pages and really ripped one out for himself!!!!!".

I hope you enjoy your visit to my web site, whether you are looking to find out more about my live show and how to book it, or if you haven't got the budget for a live show then the Merchandise Page is for you (Check out my Music CD and look out for details of the forthcoming Home Video!!!). Also, see who's "Dropping their Guts" and definitely check out the Mr Methane Animation Page coming soon! Most of all, don't forget that Farting is Fun. We all do it, even the Queen of England!!! and, remember, "Always Wipe Thoroughly!".

Yours Flatulently,

Mr. Methane


WARNING: Anyone attempting to copy Mr Methane should do so in a well ventilated room!

Unfortunately, I do not have the talent to wax rhapsodic poetically. But what I may offer for your listening pleasure is a mellifluous counterpoint to the literary gems that are and will be posted to this thread:

http://www.dotfart.com/

Just click on the dot, and enjoy!

Hahaha, Phoenix!

Moony makes an appeareence and lo and behold, we hve a fart thread

just thought i should 'show up' as requested; this is the 'old fart's' thread isn't it?

cav, that was your inspiration for this :-) :

Just a bit of light relief from politics, BoGoWo.

Well, if we can scare up a few more of us, we may have a quorum, and can get down to business!

That is an actual Arab curse, Thok, as was the other one. Apparently farting on one's body hair is considered extremely impolite in the Muslim world.

Personally, I think the cabbage ones are the worst ....

I fart in your general direction!

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

.. deleted/repeat post

A crazy old artist, McNeff,
Was palsied and cross eyed and deaf.
When asked to be touted,
The critics all shouted,
This is art with a capital F.

Well, Cav. It's different.

I know, my previous post was rather kidding. ;-)

well, double post from cav, olga and me.

a2k was short sleeping ;-)

There was a yng man from Madras,
Who never farted out of his ass,
He said, Why fart and waste,
when you can burp and taste!

I will have to pop into that thread of yours Letty. I am unfamiliar with the smell of this man.

Ode to Old Farts (for Bo)

I'll savour an old fart,
like I would an aged cheese,
vintage Bordeaux, if you please.
No 'new world' whines for me,
an old fart sings with complexity.

Yes, that was weird. I knew you were kidding, but I'm still laughing about farting on body hair for some reason.

i would venture to say its extremely impolite everywhere else as well...

beans beans the musical fruit
the more you eat the more you toot