When having an important meeting with a religious representative, whether it’s an Imam, Guru, Priest or Rabbi, the right thing to do is be friendly and polite. You should respect the millennia old wisdom and traditions from which the great religions have risen by not being overly controversial or jocular, and you definitely shouldn’t swear. But probably at the top of the list of things that you shouldn’t do while a priest is telling you an anecdote, is a really, really long, really loud fart.
No one tells you how much babies fart. I thought ageing dogs were bad, but my son went through a windy period when he practically invented a new language with his bottom.
Our local priest’s composure under fire from my son’s bottom was astonishing. The priest was talking. We listened. I was genuinely interested. My son was on my wife’s knee.
It began like distant thunder, then it revved up and took off. For a moment I thought a world war two aircraft was passing overhead. Everyone but the Priest looked at our son, eyes wide. We waited for the fart to stop, but it didn’t. It just kept on going, our son grinning happily, his bottom buzzing away like an angry bee in a kettle drum.
And the priest kept talking as if nothing was happening. We looked at our son, his bottom still vibrating. We looked at the Priest. He was still talking. The fart stopped, but only for a moment. It started again, stuttering and parping, made a sort of wolf whistle, then thinned to a plaintive squeak before finally coming to rest.
“Sorry.” I half said, gagging with laughter. The priest ignored me completely and simply continued on for another minute or so with his story, smiling and gesticulating, before shaking our hands warmly, admiring our son, tickling him under the chin, and politely taking his leave of us.
We were stunned.
There was only one possible explanation. Holy men must be trained to ignore farting babies.
Make an appointment with your local holy man. Take your farty child. See for yourself. It’s amazing.