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Dear Auntie:

At the gym this morning I was doing my usual 400 calories uphill on the treadmill when I was joined on the next machine to my left by Tweetie-Pie (or so I have named her in my mind).

After some 15 minutes she huffed and turned her machine off, then moved two machines further down the row. Although I had not broken wind, someone else had and a SLD* breezed it's way across the gym floor from my direction to Tweetie-Pie. It's obvious whom she considered the guilty party to be.

It's hard enough apologizing for the occasional wee flatule that breaks from one's rear portal, but how on earth do you ask for absolution when you yourself haven't done it ?

Yours, Covered in Shame, if not in a more bucolic product.

* Sweet Little Drifter.

Accuse the one up fart

He who calls "Dirty bastard" whilst looking in an appropriate direction must be the innocent one.

OTOH, he who smelt it dealt it

Must be forgiven for the fart I didn't do as she ran next to me again yesterday.

She who denied it, supplied it.

It was OK on a flight deck of 2 the guilty party was obvious. With 4 it was always the Flt Eng who was guilty even if he wasn't as he was usually a Flt Sgt or WO not an hofficer who would never dream of doing such a thing.

Ex-Ascot, in a 12 man crew it was polite to call Badger Brown.

In the winter it was fine until dis robing in flying clothing. Rubber, sweat and something extra.

Surely if it drifted past you before hitting her, you had time to make grim dissaproving faces, thereby making it clear that you were not the offender?

Back in the days when smoking was allowed in the cockpit, many captains drew the line at smoking and farting. You can do one or the other but not both!

If a piffling little trouser cough merely raise an eyebrow and berate the offender for being a girly man. If something more noteworthy leaning towards eye watering or causing paint to bubble from the ceiling, a small chuckle should suffice to claim credit, along with a broad wink and an affirming nod toward those writhing on the ground trying to remember how to breathe.

The one good thing about being a North Sea helicopter pilot flying to the rigs was that any farting in the cockpit was contained within your survival suit which had wrist and neck seals. So we could fart as much as we wanted to during the endless transits to the rigs - it only became a problem when getting changed in the locker room afterwards. I think standing close to your co-pilot when he's removing his survival suit which has been enriched by 3 or 4 hours of gentle farting is not one of life's greatest pleasures.

I remember that awful moment when it came to take the survival suit off C16, especially embarrassing if the other pilot was female and it was just the top eased off to have a cup of delicious crewroom coffee between flights. But sometimes it was the passengers who were the culprits. One morning we had filled up with oilies to take them to an un-manned rig when I heard a lot of laughing behind me. I didn't understand what was going on until it hit me and I started gagging and tears came to my eyes. We had to open the cockpit doors again for a minute until it cleared. It reminded me a little of the gas mask test in the tear gassing hut!