Unspeakable Acts

When I was younger I remember people talking about the Berlin Wall. About what life was like on the other side and how people would peer at it and the view of East Germany affordable through the Brandenburg Gate. To be honest it might not have been the Brandenburg Gate. It might have been another gate ,or indeed, a fence. Possibly a hotel window. I’m not sure of the facts and I’m not interested enough in them to check it up before I start writing. That in itself is disgraceful and I should be hanging my head in shame but I will save that for greater embarrassments

The point is you could get glimpses of this other world and speculate about it but few wanted to go and live in what was conceived as its alien and severe culture. There are areas of cities where many do not wish to tread so alien are their streets, and patterns of thought and subjects too primitive to air in polite society. . I write what might be considered a family friendly Blog which can be read by all ages, and those I follow also do the same so I must warn you that I am possibly about to stray over the boundary into the semi lit world where tasteful people fear to tread. If you don’t want to read on stop now. OK you didn’t stop, and nor would I  but at least I’ve given the statutory warning regarding possible violations of taste.

When you are young your body works its way smoothly through its daily rituals leaving your imagination and dreams to go where they wish without a great awareness of the work done below the neck to make this freedom possible. The liver keeps livering, the kidney kidneying and the heart pumps loads of that red stuff round the piping system to keep everything fresh and dandy.

Leading the busy focused life I do I started thinking about my toes the other day. I have always been fond of my feet and respected the way they got me from place to place without complaint and would lie silently on the bed at the other end of my body waiting for me to use them again if I wanted to. You’ve got to love devotion however it appears to you. I decided to wiggle my toes and no sooner had the thought occurred then they began wiggling. There was no delay and although I tried several times the reaction occurred almost before I had thought of it. Bloody amazing if you come to think of it.

However, life being what it is, with passing time, some things don’t continue to work as smoothly as they might, leading to moments of unease or embarrassment. I am quite fond of food. I like it. Alright, I’m a bloody glutton and stuffing my face with anything available is a pleasure I find hard to control. All seems fine in the mouth and throat department. They chew and swallow without comment but the stomach is another matter.

I do get indigestion but more seriously I can get an excess of wind, which might be natures way of suggesting I lay orf the burgers. Whose to say. Anyway, I am rambling. This wind seeks to leave the body and join its chums pushing the clouds around the sky and generally causing mischief. All well and good. However things being what they are it does not always leave silently and sometimes when it does a certain odour reveals the secrets of your wonky digestion. Even so, if you are on your own in the middle of nowhere this is not a calamity.

It so happened that I was standing in a train on the underground, ( subway) holding onto a pillar by the doors. Behind me were a group of about seven schoolboys chattering away about nothing. The train lurched slightly and in steadying myself I noticed, to my horror, that there had been an involuntary escapage of wind from the digestion department.

I froze briefly and became more than ordinarily interested in an advertisement for dish washer detergent. “You’ve farted Wayne” pipped up a voice from behind me. “No I haven’t” “Well it wasn’t me” said another voice and a brief cycle of accusations and denials spread through the little group. Boys being boys, are given to accusations and denials, and sometimes do not own up to things they’ve done but there was something in the voices which told everyone that they were all not guilty of the crime. I felt their eyes move round the compartment and settle on the rounded middle age back of some man who might well have been me. That advertisement really was very interesting I thought desperately. ” A Shine that Sparkles like Diamonds” Who would have thought it.

A better man than me might have apologised to the crowded carriage but I admit I lost my nerve and longed for the next stop to appear. Now, indeed, seemed a good opportunity to hang my head in shame.


About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in character, community, Health, humour, Life, old age and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

29 Responses to Unspeakable Acts

  1. I love your honesty and if it wasn’t your intention to make your readers smile then I apologise, because that’s exactly what I did. 😆


  2. babs50nfab says:

    Only you could make farting in a crowded subway car engaging and amusing Peter! Well done!


  3. We’ve all done it, but that doesn’t make it easier, does it. You were lucky enough to have a cadre of school boys who took up the charge and had fun with your “escapage of wind.” It probably kept them quite entertained for some time after the event. I was never quite so fortunate.

    Glad to see a post from you, Peter! I love the line: “You’ve got to love devotion however it appears to you.” Especially as it relates to your toes! You certainly haven’t lost your touch. 🙂


  4. nelle says:

    I believe the saying is ‘shit happens’. 😉 I’m imagining Sherlock Holmes tasked to identifying the unfortunate culprit… ‘and you sir!’


  5. Purely.. Kay says:

    I totally agree with nelle.. shit just happens.. what are ya gonna do :). I definitely missed your writings my friend. Great post


  6. eof737 says:

    Oh, don’t worry so much. It would have been incredbly awkward to admit to it on a crowded train where, quite frankly, people might not want to know all the details… It is best to let them wonder over certain harmless things… Nevertheless, I empathize… it seems to come with the aging process a tad more than with youth. 😆


  7. Ina says:

    Public transport and why to avoid 🙂 but great writing!


  8. ~~~~Ducky,
    I love love love your writing, honesty, humor, & wit.


    btw, You are even sexy when you fart! Haaaa ❤


  9. What can I say? I have three kids under 8….Farting, laughing and blaming it on each other are family favorites 🙂


  10. Al says:

    It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, as you have ably demonstrated. What an entertaining story. Now, quit being such a recluse!


  11. Writerlious says:

    Oh my flipping goodness. This is SO funny. I love stories like this. I have a few, but they mostly involve my husband. *grins* I can totally picture the schoolboys blaming one another!


  12. Writerlious says:

    I just realized how wrong that might sound. Um… just to clarify, my husband sometimes farts in public while standing right next to me, and then looks at me and raises his eyebrows, as if to say “Did you do that?” Inevitably, someone will look at us and assume I’m the culprit. Gah!


  13. backonmyown says:

    LOL. I’m guffawing. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard the conversation you describe here, but the ones I heard were high school boys in the classroom trying not to be heard by their teacher–me. And it was always one of them who did the smelly deed. 🙂

    Also, I must tell you that I instantly started to wiggle my toes as I read your toe paragraph and freely grinned about the miracle of it all. Thanks, Ducks.


  14. Julie says:

    I’m just taking a brief moment to say how much I truly appreciate your supportive comments. I think most blog writers have a bit of a ‘moment’ when they hit publish and wonder how your words will be taken. I think the first comment on any post sets the pace.

    Regarding this post here, I thought about it so much yesterday. I thought about how the person now might even get in touch with you due to the internet connecting people’s lives. What stuck me the most was how it reminded me of one of Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day. In that sonnet, he basically talks badly about the person he loves but makes them immortal through his writing. It’s very touching in a strange way.

    I liked your poem.



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