Thursday, April 01, 2004
Farters Rights
You know, I get sick to death of hearing about "smokers rights". What the f**k do you mean "rights"? Right to do what? Kill everybody around you? Annoy the crap out of bystanders, stink their clothes out, give them a husky voice and blurry eyes?
When you smoke in a place where non-smokers cannot escape then you have no rights, so shove your cigarette up your f**king arse.
As you can see this is an issue that interests me a little.
Let's look at it this way (note, what follows is a hypothetical situation, not the truth, honest)...
I am a farter. I love going down to my local and having a social fart over a pint of beer. I fart for about 3-4 minutes solidly, and then wait a couple of minutes before farting again. I repeat this gas release for anything between 30 minutes and 6 hours depending on whether or not I'm having a big night or not.
But I'm not rude or anything. I always ask at least one other person at my table if they mind if I fart or not. Usually I catch them off guard a bit and they say something like "umm yeah...no worries". I don't bother asking everybody else in the bar even though they will no doubt smell, and possibly even taste my poo particles during the course of the night because, well...f**k smokers never do so why should I?!
By about 10 or 11 my farting mates have arrived and the place is packed with about half the patrons just squeezing them out like nobody's business. It's mad. You can see the gas in the air and it just wafts about, with the air conditioning struggling to cope with it all. People are getting red eyes as the smell seeps into their corneas and the odd person hacks away quietly as it all gets a bit too much for the poor blighter.
But I don't care, because I'm about to let loose with my 17th absolute boomer of the night. Each one more satisfying than the last. Not sure what it was, maybe the celery soup before I came out, or the chicken kebabs or the fact that my arse has always stunk like a bucket of rotting eggs.
Occasionally a few of the smokers get a bit carried away and they need to wipe their arse and put it in a small bucket on the middle of the table, placed there for fellow farters convenience. You used to be able to buy special pills from vending machines in bars which made you fart more freely and with a smell of your choice. But the facist fart police got these handy vending machines removed and now you have to bring your own, or 'power up' before arriving.
Flash to the morning after, and there are people waking up everywhere absolutely wreaking of my shit. It's in their hair, their clothes, they can taste it, they've got a sore throat, their hangover feels even worse, their eyes are sore and their throat feels disgusting.
So next time you feel like you have a right to light one up in a bar...DON'T. You might just cause a massive explosion which levels the place.
sssspppppplllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ah, that feels much better.
When you smoke in a place where non-smokers cannot escape then you have no rights, so shove your cigarette up your f**king arse.
As you can see this is an issue that interests me a little.
Let's look at it this way (note, what follows is a hypothetical situation, not the truth, honest)...
I am a farter. I love going down to my local and having a social fart over a pint of beer. I fart for about 3-4 minutes solidly, and then wait a couple of minutes before farting again. I repeat this gas release for anything between 30 minutes and 6 hours depending on whether or not I'm having a big night or not.
But I'm not rude or anything. I always ask at least one other person at my table if they mind if I fart or not. Usually I catch them off guard a bit and they say something like "umm yeah...no worries". I don't bother asking everybody else in the bar even though they will no doubt smell, and possibly even taste my poo particles during the course of the night because, well...f**k smokers never do so why should I?!
By about 10 or 11 my farting mates have arrived and the place is packed with about half the patrons just squeezing them out like nobody's business. It's mad. You can see the gas in the air and it just wafts about, with the air conditioning struggling to cope with it all. People are getting red eyes as the smell seeps into their corneas and the odd person hacks away quietly as it all gets a bit too much for the poor blighter.
But I don't care, because I'm about to let loose with my 17th absolute boomer of the night. Each one more satisfying than the last. Not sure what it was, maybe the celery soup before I came out, or the chicken kebabs or the fact that my arse has always stunk like a bucket of rotting eggs.
Occasionally a few of the smokers get a bit carried away and they need to wipe their arse and put it in a small bucket on the middle of the table, placed there for fellow farters convenience. You used to be able to buy special pills from vending machines in bars which made you fart more freely and with a smell of your choice. But the facist fart police got these handy vending machines removed and now you have to bring your own, or 'power up' before arriving.
Flash to the morning after, and there are people waking up everywhere absolutely wreaking of my shit. It's in their hair, their clothes, they can taste it, they've got a sore throat, their hangover feels even worse, their eyes are sore and their throat feels disgusting.
So next time you feel like you have a right to light one up in a bar...DON'T. You might just cause a massive explosion which levels the place.
sssspppppplllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ah, that feels much better.
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