Gus Jonsson

To FarTed

by Gus Jonsson

Wednesday 21st April 2010 8:12 pm

This time

Edward

Love of my life

I have had just about enough

Of your corduroyed flatulence

Perhaps it was the Eggs Benedict

The Guinness fried fish kedgeree

I suspect it just may have been

That together with the Scampi Brochette con Aglio

Not to mention

A breakfast glass of Sauternes

Will you never learn?

You pervade the air we breathe

Imbuing the very fabric of this house

This time you have gone just a bit too

FarTed

Yes you

Farted

Within the hallowed sanctum of the church

Your Sulphurous reverberations

Knew no bounds

It did little to enhance Evensong

The organ ground to a stop

The choir faltered

Stifled coughs and giggles spiralled

Echoing to lofty vaults

…‘I will make you Fishers of Men

Fishers of men

If you follow me’…

Follow you?

Dear God in Heaven

There was no collection plate come a rattling

Just the congregation standing

Tit tattling pointing the finger

At you

The Vicar

Battling down from the pulpit to be first

Out into the coolness of the vestry

Fanning the putrid air

With your ancient and modern

This time mark you my words

This time you have gone just a bit too

FarTed !

This time you have gone a bit too far

◄ She is just a Gypsy Girl

Pandora's Box ►

Comments

Isobel

Fri 23rd Apr 2010 19:20

Perhaps the male poets are a little overpowered by the length of your fart poem Gus and the fact that you have managed to squeeze so much out of a very natural biological function.
It seems natural for women (who never fart) to find farting males funny. It probably dates back to prehistoric courting rituals - or something like that...

Gus Jonsson

Fri 23rd Apr 2010 07:04

Good Morning Cynthia

Thank you so much for comment regarding To FarTed It was undertaken as an excercise to enable me to write sensible structure about a subject that was faintly light and frothy... to ward off writers block mmmm.

Take up the pen and write about the first thing you see, taste smell ...or hear...A good excerciae.

Once again many thanks

Gusxx

Ann Foxglove

Fri 23rd Apr 2010 04:02

The men are fartoo busy to comment! x

Gus Jonsson

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 23:53

Hello Francine

You make me laugh too... in the light that the whole province of farting is a 'Man' thing...have you noticed that only Women have commented...

Weird or what?

Gus xx

Francine

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 20:32

Oh là là !
You do have a way with words...
How you spin, you weave, you flatter...

Tu me fais rire ; )
xxx

Ann Foxglove

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 20:18

I can see the TV adds now!! Maybe not!! (I am the only person in the universe who doesn't get loohumour?) My loss I expect!

Isobel

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 17:56

Yes Cynth - but wouldn't that make us actively seek them out - or force the issue, even. We would still in effect be tasting/smelling tiny shit particles - it wouldn't be good for the ozone layer either...

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 15:09

Fabulous, Gus, clever and funny, and genuinely poetical too. Have I missed the intended subject of this lampoon?
Also, did you know that Ben Franklin said that the invention of a pill to perfume farts would make the richest man ever known, and be forever a boon to mankind?

Gus Jonsson

Thu 22nd Apr 2010 10:43

Dearest Isobel

How lovely you are, how sweet and endearing to confess to being targeted by my Phartesque - ( A description for the high blown or windy tales of intrepid endeavour)

To mess with your mind and convince you that there was indeed a subliminal and subtle message would be demanding just a little from both your razor sharp repartee and feminine intuition.. No, I am overjoyed that you rollick and roll so as to speak to my good old ‘Toilet Humour’, toilet humour at its best no less what an accolade.

I thank you as always, lovely legs.

Hope to see you soon.

Gusxxx

Isobel

Wed 21st Apr 2010 20:53

Tea cakes vicar? And was that really 'sanctum' of the church?

Love it as you knew I would! I can remember liking Dick Emery too. Simple humour, but effective.

The poem is brill - pacey, racey and full of wonderfully funny flatulence - toilet humour at its best.
Now you are going to tell me it has nothing to do with flatulence and is instead a clever metaphor for the 'crap' clerics feed us.

To that I say, poo - poo, poo and thrice poo.

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