Hands up all those people who NEVER emit windy-pops on a plane?
Never - NEVER FARTED? EVER? On an aeroplane?
I don't believe you. Personally there is only so much in-flight entertainment one can endure in an exceedingly confined space. And there is no personal space travelling long haul, in economny, in an aeroplane. None. Zip. Zilch.
You have eaten your vacuum packed foil (and the loosely-termed food contained therein). You have selected three different movie choices and pressed every button in the armrest. You have eventually found the reading light and twiddled with the air-con controls in the ceiling. You have tilted your chair back into the nose-cartilage of the person directly behind you. You have summoned the in-flight attendant. And clacked and un-clacked your seatbelt at least 20 times after take off. What left is there to do for the next 12 hours? You can't smoke, you can't join the mile high club in the lavatories anymore and you can't watch your movie in peace - the headphones never work.
But you can fart. Yes it may be considered anti-social but then so is having somebody sitting so close to you that you can see their pores dilate without a magnifying glass! Or so I thought!
However, as with smoking, shagging and drinking miles up in the clouds this little diversion has been withdrawn. Flatulence has been forfeited like every other secret, guilty pleasure.
The Americans (who else) have invented Under-Ease anti-fart underpants with a cunning charcoal filter. Flatulent flyers left red-faced by a build up of wind can rest easy.
Personally I would prefer to fart rather than sit with a gusset full of charcoal for 14 hours. It's not as if I have been invited to a barbecue. And besides if any sort of scientist has a spare couple of research years to spare can they work on something more practical? The technology to determine baby milk from liquid bombs might be a good starting point or failing that a seat with adequate support. Not some tortuous device left over from witch-burning in the 16th century.
