The Farting Contest.

THE FARTING CONTEST
by
Anon
I'll tell you a story that is sure
to please,
Of a great farting contest at
Shitton on Pease
Where all the best arses
paraded the field,
To compete in a contest for
various shields.
Some tighten their arses and
fart up the scale,
To compete for a cup and a
gallon of ale.
While others whose arses are
biggest and strongest,
Compete in the section for
loudest and longest.
Now this years event had
drawn quite a large crowd,
And the betting was even on
Mrs. MacLeod.
For it had appeared in the
evening edition,
That this lady's arse was in
perfect condition.
Now, old Mrs. Jones had a
perfect backside,
Half a forest of hairs with a
wart on each side.
And she fancied her chances
of winning with ease,
Having trained on a diet of
cabbage and peas.
The Vicar arrived and
ascended the stand,
And thus he addressed this
remarkable band.
"The contest is on as is shown
in the bills,
We've precluded the use of
injections and pills."
Mrs. Bindle arrived amid roars
of applause,
And promptly proceeded to
pull off her drawers,
For though she'd no chance in
the farting display,
She'd the prettiest bottom
you'd see this day.
Now, young Mrs. Pothole was
backed for a place,
Though she'd often been
placed in the deepest disgrace
By dropping a fart that had
beaten the organ,
And the poor Vicar, old
Jonathon Morgan.
The ladies lined up at the
signal to start,
And winning the toss, Mrs.
Jones took first fart
The people around stood in
silence and wonder,
While her wireless announced
gale warnings and thunder.
Now, Mrs. MacLeod reckoned
nothing of this,
She'd had some weak tea and
was all wind and pride.
So she took up her place and
her arse opened wide,
But unluckily shit... and was
disqualified.
Then young Mrs. Pothole was
called to the front,
And started by doing a
wonderful stunt.
She took a deep breath and
clenching her hands,
She blew the whole roof off
the popular stands.
That left Mrs. Bindle, who
shyly appeared,
And smiled at the clergy who
lustily cheered.
And though it was reckoned
her chances were small,
She let out a winner,
outfarting them all.
With hands on her hips, she
stood farting alone,
And the crowd stood amazed
at the sweetness of tone.
And the clergy agreed without
hindrance or pause,
And said, 'First, Mrs. Bindle...
now pull up your drawers!'
But with muscles well tensed
and legs full apart,
She started a final and
glorious fart.
Beginning with 'Chopin' and
ending with 'Wing'
She went right up the scale to
'God Save the King'.
She went to the rostrum with
maidenly gait,
And took from the panel, a
set of gold plate.
Then she turned to the Vicar
with sweetness sublime
And smilingly said, 'Come up
and see me some time.