The lummox let out a cascade of farts this morning when he got out of bed. And you've never heard a more disgusting noise in your life. Ripping and squelching and bubbling away like a knackered fire hose. For a few moments I thought that he had, in fact, soiled himself. The odour convinced me of that as well. But I soon realised that he hadn't when he went to the toilet and unleashed yet another barrage of flatus over the lavatory pan that sounded like a chainsaw starting up underwater. Awful, my friends, truly awful! I think the problem was that the scouse hippie is over for the weekend and the pair of them had a night on the black stout. In fact, they've been on the piss since Friday. Something or other about some guy called St Patrick and it being his day. Well, I don't know what their cause for celebration was but I wasn't celebrating this morning when the fat berk let off. Also they had all consumed a large quantity of Thai green curry the night before as well which obviously didn't help. Listen up you odious uprights, if you're going to fill yourself with spicy food and about ten pints of heavy then you've no-one else to blame for the condition of your abdomen but yourselves. There, I've said it!
The effluvium has just about cleared now so I'm going to (tentatively) go back into the bedroom and get some shut eye. After which I might have a nap. Then maybe a snooze later on. Hopefully they'll all keep out and give me some peace. They can sit in the living room and blow off to their heart's content. I just hope they leave the side hatch open.
PPP x
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