Well if the Ladies don't fart then how come I recieved this email a while ago?
?
THE LADIES' FARTING CONTEST.
Now, I'll tell you a story of laughter and glee
At a grand Farting Contest we held by the sea
Where all the best arses paraded in fields
Partaking in contests for various shields.
Some cocked up their arses to fart up the scale
To strive for a jug or a cup of brown ale,
While those whose arses were biggest and strongest
Competed in contests for loudest and longest.
The warm, summer evening had drawn a big crowd
And betting was even on Mrs. McCloud.
'Twas said in the paper - the sporting edition
That this lady's arse was in ideal condition.
Now old Mrs. Brown had a perfect backside
With a bunch of red hairs and a wart on each side.
She fancied her chance of winning with ease
Having trained on a diet of cabbage and peas.
Now Mrs. Potluck was backed for a place;
She's often been placed in the deepest disgrace
Having farted in church, partly drowning the organ
And gassing the Vicar, old Marmaduke Morgan.
Mrs. Boston arrived, midst sounds of applause
And promptly proceeded to lower her drawers.
For, 'though she'd no chance in a farting display
She'd the prettiest arse you'd see any day.
The Vicar arrived and, ascending the stand
Proceeded to tell this remarkable band
That the contest was open, as shown on the bills
And banned was the use of injections and pills.
The entrants awaited the signal to start
And, winning the toss, Mrs. Brown took first fart.
The crowd stood astounded in silence and wonder
Whilst the B.B.C. broadcast a warning of thunder.
Next, Mrs. Potluck advanced to the front
And started by doing a wonderous stunt.
With wide open cheeks and tightly clenched hands
She blew off the top of the 50p stands.
Mrs. McCloud thought very little of this;
She'd had some weak tea and was all wind and &*^^.
With her hands on her hips and her legs open wide
She unluckily s**t and was disqualified.
Now young Mrs. Boston was next to appear.
She turned to the crowd who gave her a cheer
And, 'tho it was thought she'd no chance at all
She took the first prize by out-farting them all.
With her hands on her hips she stood farting along
And all were amazed at the sweetness of tone.
The judges agreed without bias or pause - -
"First prize, Mrs. Boston. Now pull up your drawers".
She advanced to the front with maidenly gait
And took from the Vicar a set of gold plate.
Then turned to the crowd, the biggest yet seen
And farted the first verse of "God Save the Queen".
