Image by Kyle Thompson via Wikipedia I’ve long held that the outstanding work done by Heaton at the University of Bristol, whilst outstanding in its own right and in the field of poophilia, just didn’t go far enough.

It covers both solids and liquids, but it doesn’t take an armchair physicist to to note that gases are conspicuously absent from it’s scale.

So I propose an augmentation, thusly:

Type 8: touched cloth. A watery cloud of not quite dry leakiness that may plague the emittee after a night’s binge drinking in Essex. One of the main reasons Essex girls carry a pair of clean knickers, not, as more commonly believed, because they’re all slags.

Type 9: A meaty, foul, wet sounding emission, by all rights sounds to casual observers like a type 8, but gives the proud parent the satisfaction of lingering around and experiencing everyone’s enjoyment first hand instead of rushing to the toilet/emergency underpants store looking white as a sheet. A pure comedy fart, almost odourless but loud enough to wake nearby grandmothers.

Type 10: Trumpeting, a loud and proud sound that whilst it doesn’t really have any olfactorial properties, really sounds like it should do. Best for comedy office use as it balances volume and depth with smell and the perpetrator won’t annoy their boss too much.

Type 11: Quite squeaky, likely to catch passers by unawares and lead to a fit of the giggles. Starting to get into the realm of smelling quite bad, but the overall comedy squeak effect will generally render people charitable towards the eruptee, despite the smell.

Type 12: Almost inaudible, but the olfactory equivalent of a small bomb. Known by its colloquialism “silent but deadly”, has been known to wilt nearby houseplants. Definitely the best type to provide in a lift whilst looking sternly at someone else.

So what do I need to do now? Send it to a journal for peer reviewing, right?

S x