Fart
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‘What are you on about? You know we don’t have a water bottle,’ said Helen, my girlfriend.

This was about a year ago when I began to realise I had something very unusual happening to my body, well, my nether regions, well OK, my arsehole.

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘Very funny.’

‘I just farted.’

‘Ha ha.’

‘I promise you.’

She didn’t believe it but I just thought it was funny. So I quickly forgot about the fart in the bath sounding like ‘water bottle’ and we continued with our relatively happy lives.

The next time was harder to ignore – a punch in the face can help focus the mind. I was on my way to the pub to meet John and Jamie, walking fast through the Clapham Park Estate, not the wisest of shortcuts but I was very late.

I noticed four hooded youths walking my way. They spread out in a line as they approached making it hard for me to get past. Not unusual behaviour for stroppy lads and not something I wanted to get into an argument about. I stepped aside to let them pass, avoiding any eye contact.

My arsehole had different ideas though. As I stepped to the side I had to step off the pavement down onto the road and as my foot hit the road I felt a rumbling in my arse cheeks.

It came out loud and clear.

‘WANKERS’

‘WOD’YOU SAY?’

‘Nothing.’

Then again even louder.

‘BUNCH OF WANKERS.’

THWACK!

The first punch hit me on the nose then they all started to wade in. That’s when my arsehole and I aligned our thinking again.

‘Run away!’ it squeaked. I needed no convincing so we ran, fast.

I wanted to explain the whole story to Jamie and John but decided that I couldn’t. I just said I was jumped in the Estate and after a few angry exclamations about going to look for them, we settled down to our usual beer-fuelled waffling for a few hours.

When I got home, a little pissed; I went straight to the toilet, pulled down my jeans, sat down and had a chat with my arsehole. It was pretty chatty. It seems it had been able to communicate for years – since I had a hole in my arse…ha ha.

Anyway, apparently he was always waiting for the right moment – which was hard to find, clearly, and in the end, he just couldn’t stop himself. We’re pretty close now, not just physically – and aside from being extremely opinionated about my diet and digestive system – understandably I guess – he’s a good mate. He gives great advice for an arsehole.

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