Thank you Houellie and Yabby...for providing the half-time entertainment. (I'm visualising you two doing a vaudeville act - based entirely around farts)

Wuz going to add (except I couldn't get onto OLO for a few hours?) that there's a famous passage in Proust's "Remembrance of Things Past / In Search of Lost Time" where the "taste" or "essence" of a small "Madeleine" cake dipped in tea transports him in memory. Proust's expressive prose is notoriously convoluted, but it's probably the closest any writer comes to expressing the complexity of experience.

Here's the passage:

http://fisheaters.com/proust.html

'it's probably the closest any writer comes to expressing the complexity of experience.'

I reckon squeers could have a go.

I'm just not in the mood Poirot. Always love a good scoff and mock though. Mawkishness like this is a red flag to a bull. Is this your new Oprah book club? Fart jokes are ironic and postmodern when done by me BTW.

Yabby can be Statler and I'll be Waldor.

'that distinct smell has stayed with me over the
years.'

Bacterial vaginosis?

Houellie,

I would have been disappointed if you hadn't appeared in your usual regalia. One of my favourite comedy pieces is Billy Connolly doing a sequence of fart noises for a whole sketch.

A friend of ours taught my son to do a song circa 1950's in English vaudeville style with many "questionable" noises all linked with song - sounds great and very funny (can't beat homeschooling :)

http://motivational-ish.com/files/2011/09/thppppbbbbbt-biden-obama-Motivational-ish.jpg

;)

Ah, toilet humour ...

A guy sits in front of the TV all day farting like
there's no tomorrow. But not just gassy airish
farts. We're talking mega greasy wet ones, the
kind that would make your dog puke. The wife is
understandably angry. "One day dear - you're going
to fart your guts out."

The next Sunday, as the wife is preparing turkey for
Sunday lunch, hubbie falls asleep. The wife sees an
opportunity to get her own back so she takes the innards
of the turkey and places them in the underwear her
husband is wearing. She then goes back to cooking the turkey.

Later that afternoon her husband comes to the dining table
looking very frightened. "What happened to you?" asks his
wife. "You're white as a sheet."

"Well," replies the man. "You were right. I farted my guts out."
"You what?" says the wife.
"What did you do?"
"Well, with the Grace of God and these two fingers I got 'em
all back up in there!"

Yes, well I suppose it's fitting that a thread so crudely titled "Smells" should have Proust's Madeleine scene followed by a pastiche of effluvium inspired commentary - fart jokes and all.

Strange, the meandering nature of such a thread : )