Prior to his arrival, he has sent a missive which I think readers might like to share. The tune "The Butterfly" to which he alludes is a number performed with great aplomb by the Gigspanner boys and I have no doubt that we'll be hearing it at Kingsand Community Hall before the formation drinking gets underway afterwards.
"After seeing your antics with the Wreckers, on your blog I thought I would tell you something of what I've been up to lately. Last weekend, over the two days, I entered the National Farting Championship.
There were forty of us, broadly split between those that used baked beans as fuel for our gaseous emissions, and those that use artichoke. After much experimentation I find the latter to be best.
There were six parts to the competition, with a grand prize to the smelly winner of a year's supply of bran. The first part was farting the tune of the first movement of Beethoven's 1812 Overture. [Editor's note: I think he means Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, but we'll allow him the minor cultural slip]. I found this very difficult, as I haven't quite got the black key notes right yet.
I need more practice, which is difficult, as I spend most of my time at work, where I attempted to rehearse, but my colleagues complained, eventually sending me to Coventry, until I put an air-freshener in my office.
The second phase was an opportunity for my creative juices (not those that arrive during the performance), as it was a composition by each competitor. I put together a little jazz number, inspired by The Butterfly.
The audience (who all wear clothes pegs on their noses), seemed very appreciative. I was particularly pleased with my timing, creating an atmosphere that reminded me of my days in sleazy, basement nightclubs, when I first started on the farting circuit.
I won't bore you with details of the other four events, but will recite an interesting turn of events. One of the competitors, who had come all the way from Vladivostok, was accused of using an artificial appliance to enhance his already very loud farts and was asked by the medical team (I imagine, when the St. John's Ambulance were asked to be present they didn't expect to be examining anyone's posterior for adaptations), to submit to an intimate examination. He vociferously complained, but had to comply, and, sure enough, he had a penny whistle cunningly inserted into his anus.
Anyway, your dancing with the Wreckers looks great.
See you at the weekend."
No comments:
Post a Comment