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WWII/old-fashioned military slang for passing gas.

Discussion in 'WWII' started by Ticklishchap, Dec 16, 2012.

  1. STEVIEBOY1

    STEVIEBOY1 Practically Family

    Yes, schools around that period had many things in common.
     
  2. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    I shall have to collect some farts in jars and then recycle them as alternative energy. Thus a pleasurable activity is converted into a public duty.
     
  3. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    And boys' schools at that time were very much ruled by farts!
     
    Last edited: Oct 18, 2017
  4. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    The positive aspect of it was that as an all-male environment there was a dry sense of humour accompanying the discipline and authoritarianism. My form master (in my final year) congratulated me on my farts, for example, as well as giving me a somewhat nominal telling-off.
     
  5. STEVIEBOY1

    STEVIEBOY1 Practically Family

    Sometimes a nominal telling off could be quite amusing.
     
  6. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    Yes, especially when both you and the master involved knew it was a charade. ...!
     
  7. STEVIEBOY1

    STEVIEBOY1 Practically Family

    Yes both trying to be serious, contrite and not trying to smirk/smile/laugh (Or even break wind) all at the same time.
     
    Ticklishchap likes this.
  8. 'Who stunk up the joint?'
     
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  9. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    That was more or less the scene when (as I mentioned in another thread recently) I told my House Master that there was no mention of farting in either the School or House rules.
     
  10. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    I'm afraid I did. While I am much more civilised now, of course, during my fartulent days at boarding school I used to enjoy the opportunity to stink out the locker room after Rugby matches.
     
  11. Ticklishchap

    Ticklishchap Practically Family

    I said in my previous post that I am a lot more civilised now, but in a country pub recently, after a walk with several members of my hiking club, I stood up and quite by accident released the loudest, longest and most noxious fart I have managed to emit since my university days. Fortunately it was an all-male group and so it was met with laughter, but I am sure that it violated the Geneva Convention. As this is really a sartorial site I should mention that for the hike I wore an olive green waxed Barbour jacket, an olive Army Woolly Pully (commando sweater), dark brown corduroy trousers, olive wool Army issue socks, and old leather hiking boots. And - more unusual item here - a Mongolian leather cap bought in Ulan Bator.
     

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