Healing hands

Posted in Old blogger by Twenty Major on October 25th, 2006

“Well there I was in the Stephen’s Green shopping centre”, said Stinking Pete regaling us with another of his fantastically tedious tales.

“Right…”

“And you know the way I have this affliction.”

“Which particular one? The one that makes you stink? The one that makes you a stupid cunt? The one that makes you get eye-boogers as big as marbles?”

“Now, now, Jimmy! No need for that. I’m talking about my flatulence problem.”

“Oh”, I said.

Stinking Pete has a problem with flatulence when he eats certain kinds of foods. Any meat, anything with vegetables, fruit, wheat, flour, dairy products, fish, rice or herbs makes him fart like a trooper. Sometimes he can’t stop farting. He blasts them out like bullets from an Uzi. Often this happens as he’s walking along splattering the person behind him with the foul air from his behind. The only thing he can eat which doesn’t make him fart are spice burgers as they are made from man-made synthetic foods.

“So I was wandering past Hughes and Hughes, I was going to go in and buy a book about the sinking of the Titanic because I wanted to see if anyone got a picture of Leonardo da Vinci drowning in real life, when all of a sudden I got a fart attack. *blam* *blam* *blam* *blam* they went but there were at least 300 of them in a 10 second period. I had stand still, I couldn’t go forwards or backwards for fear of following through. And the stench? My god, it was I’d eaten a skunk marinaded in cow pats and cat piss.”

“Beautiful, Stinking Pete, just beautiful.”

“Yeah, but this is the strange part. I heard a voice behind me saying ‘I can help you’ and I turned around and there was this familiar little man who told me that he had healing hands and he could cure what ailed me.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. He told me to accompany him to the men’s toilets and he would lay his hands on the afflicted area and after that I would be healed and I would never again suffer the flappy anused farting that has afflicted me for so long.”

“And did you?”

“I certainly did and he laid his hands upon the area in question and amazingly I haven’t farted since. It was only on the way home that I realised the little man in question was Chris de Burgh!”

“Ok, so you went to a public toilets with Chris de Burgh and allowed him to lay his hands upon your arse, is that it?”

“Yes, well…er….yeah, I can see how it might look but he kept his digits to himself, Twenty. It was palms only and I swear to God himself I haven’t let off in…

*THHHSSSSRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRPPPP*

…ah fuck, that’s the second time that cunt has done that to me.”