It may seem insincere to say I have the greatest respect for the Royal Family, but financial debates aside, I believe they all, and especially Her Majesty, have worked hard on behalf of charities, and for our country.
Two other facts are pertinent, however:
Firstly, The Queen is still a human being, Her Royal Biology no different from our own.
Secondly, when writing a poem about bodily wind, the more upper-class, and auguste the personage concerned, the funnier it is. It is simply one of the eternal rules of comedy.
So, this is not an attack on the Queen’s Royal Person, but rather an acknowledgement of the paradox that is royalty: that according to ancient tradition* they are God’s Appointed, sent to rule over, and take care of us, and yet, they are also human, and so subject to all of the daily comedies and tragedies of which the human condition consists.
So I offer, this, my humble poetic tribute to the humanity of our Queen, and hope that I may prevail upon the Royal Sense-of-Humour, not to hold this against me when one day, God willing, I will be nominated for a Knighthood.
Best read aloud in your very best approximation of the Queen’s own Voice: just click on the video above if you need some practice…
If the Queen were to consider the gas,
Which came out of Her human ass,
This gross injustice She could not let pass:
That it is more tolerated from a Lad, than a Lass.
Her quickest is the ‘fwip’,
Most common on the foreign Family Trip;
For in polite company One can quip,
“T’was not Me, but Hubby, that let rip!”
A little longer is the ‘trump’,
To exit from One’s Regal Rump,
With a Movie Horribilis sound like a ‘bump’,
It’s vibration causes the nervous to jump.
Next, there is the ‘blart’,
Causing One’s bottom cheeks to part,
In a sound that from its start,
Warms the Undies, but not the heart.
Exuded slowly is the ‘fffssssssss’,
Expelled with a Champagne-like hiss.
Do not move too much or One will wish,
One had never imbibed Champers with fish.
Legumes build toward the ‘fwubble’,
Like an earthquake this spells trouble:
The Palace could be rendered to rubble,
For even bath water cannot mask its vast bubble.
Most despicable! Clinging, pervasive, and ever-ready;
It’s spread: stealthy, oozing and steady.
It’s venenous fumes, when breathed, are so heady,
When One succumbs to the ‘silent but deadly’.
A Regal ‘paaarrrp’ like a tuba’s moan,
Is the goal of One’s constipated groans.
With success, One’s musicality is shown;
Amplified by the bowl of One’s White Porcelain Throne.
-Ω-
* N.B. I have little doubt that the Medieval concept of Divine Ruler is now considered somewhat inaccurate, and outmoded, even by our appointed Divine Ruler, the Queen herself.
Gaseous Emissions from The Queen’s Regal Posterior: A Poem by T. James © November, 2011.
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Another sure hit. I think the silent but deadly verse was brilliant and I almost wish that had been the conclusion, but the throne reference at the end works even better.
I imagine the inside of your mind would be a strange place to visit.
Hi Chrissey, thanks for dropping by, I know you’ve been busy… I hope it will all calm down.
Your poetry instincts are spot on, the Silent but Deadly verse was the final verse in the first version of the poem, then I added the throne verse after I thought about including the Queen. If you want to visit the inside of my head you are welcome, but you wouldn’t want to live there…
Reminds me of something from History. Apparently theEarl of Oxford, when he was bowing to Elizabeth the 1st. parped.
So ashamed of it he went into self imposed exile for seven years. Upon his return E1 said “My lord I had forgot the fart.”
Perhaps not quite as high on the chain as you’d like but not a bad piece of historical fact for you. LOL
Thanks Gareth, nice to know I’m writing using a feasible historical precedent.
I wonder if I need to exile myself for seven years, somewhere remote, but with internet access to I can continue to write this blog… Perhaps if I hide on the roof of The Palace, the last place they would think to look!
Ok, so a little pee came out – good job, TJ:)
And if you ever need my support for your election to knighthood, you have it.
Long live the Queen.
Actually Anne, I think he’s just knackered his chance for the Knighthood with this post. LOL
After all once a king always a king but once a knight’s enough. LOL
Thanks Anne, for your support. However, I do apologise, but I will *not* be held liable for the cost of your dry cleaning bill.
And I agree with Gareth, getting out of the armour is just so exhausting…
Made me laugh, perfect. Hard to choose a favourite part but I’d have to say it’s the blart!
As a writer, it feels wonderful when something you’ve written *resonates* with your audience…
Funny stuff coming out of ‘er’ well…!
Elizabeth Regina, I assume you mean. Being human, she does indeed have a ‘well’ as you so quaintly put it… but I think Her Highness prefers ‘posterior’ as the more correct nomenclature.
I can’t believe you wrote such a long poem about farting
Really funny, TJ…another good one!
Why, thank you Ms. Addams. I think it most important that one stays in touch with one’s humanity. Prevents arrogance you know.
*Mutters* The Queen really is being rather tardy with that Knighthood…
You are a strange and unusual man TJ. hehe… Oh, true story, and I know this to be fact and don’t ask me how as I don’t divulge sources, queen mum travels with her own toilet seat and has it installed whereever she stays. A royal ass indeed.
Have you *seen* the state of some public conveniences! One has to have standards. I would also like my own Seat, but I am afraid the rather vulgar issue of money, or lack there of, prevents me from aspiring to such genteel behaviour. Oh, the *shame*…
lol
I suppose you could call it a Loud Orifice Laugh… I wonder what one would actually sound like?