Shakespeare’s play about surprisingly fragrant flatulence, aka All Smells that End Well.
farts
If you want to make whoopee, it’s best to move into a fartable housing, toot suite.
If someone cries ‘Fart!’ in a crowded theatre, everyone must exit in an odourly fashion.
Beethoven’s flatulence gave him great pleasure. So he penned Odour to Joy.
If you fart on a sheep, don’t worry — I’ll still hold ewe in ass steam.
Passing gas takes courage, aka intestinal fartitude.
Fart in my hotel room – toot suite!
Wildebeest farts are a gnu’s scents.
A fat man’s flatulence is truly flabber gas sting.
I am a professional flatulence-connoisseur. I enjoy fartisan whines. I am, as the French say, a smmelier.