Wednesday, 29 January 2014


When my lad was about 6 or so, he went through that boy stage of 'fart fixation'. He did them here there and everywhere. He was, for a while at least, the family fart champion.

Not so now. As I tiptoe into my dotage, I've discovered that I am developing this skill with every passing day. 

How I wish I had the ability back then to show him who was the daddy.

I have discovered though that even I have met my match. Try as I may there is no chance of me literally blowing the roof off my house.

But I know a cow who can... 90 of them in fact, whose farts started such a fire that they were nearly turned into steak and whoosh! - up went the roof.

It's a funny old world.