My name is Sarah and I have a problem.
OK, so technically, my husband has the problem, but he shares it with me. He’s a chronic farter.
Before anyone tuts and thinks that I might be in all sorts of trouble for sharing this little issue with the world, it’s OK. He’s actually quite proud of it. When he left his last job, there were references to his delightful smell in his leaving card, and most people give him fart-related jokey gifts for Christmas.
I’m just putting out a request for any help that anyone might have in stopping this atrocious habit before he spends more nights on the sofa that he does in bed! Many a night just lately he’s been banished to sleep in the living room in disgrace, after a night (or two) of not only waking me up with a jump with a particularly violent sleep trump, but the aftermath that makes me choke – then have to leave the bedroom in search of air freshener. If you hear a news story about a woman who snaps and smothers her husband with a pillow in the middle of the night, I plead extreme provocation and quite possibly a bit of fart poisoning.
You see, Moley’s emissions are not just amusing little toots that come along every now and again and do no harm. He didn’t earn himself the nickname ‘Rancid Mole’ from a few noisy trumps that made everyone giggle. He can clear a room. A house, even. If you get stuck in a car and he has to let one go it’s all you can do to restrain your gag reflex. It’s vile.
These farts can strip wallpaper. They make your eyes water. It doesn’t matter what he eats, either. Beans obviously set him off as does cheap Iceland jalapeno pizza but it really doesn’t matter what he eats, he will still fart. I beat him around the head with cushions, I shout, I swear, I make him take charcoal tablets, I threaten him with a room full of scented candles. I even spray him with perfume (although I’ll have to stop that, I’m getting low).
Other than that, he’s really quite lovely. He’s kind, he’s caring, he’s funny. He gives good cuddles, he puts the bins out, washes up and hoovers when I ask him to and he brings me home wine and flowers to cheer me up if I’m having a bad time. So, apart from the smell, I can’t really complain.
If anyone knows a surefire cure for flatulence, please let me know….