marilyn munroe bath time

“How lovely to see you again young Marilyn, what can I do for you this fine day?” 

“What can’t you do for me more like? The thing is Dr Humperdink – you know even just saying your name makes me feel so very sorry for those poor little ‘dinks’ – anyway where was I? Oh yes…got it now…it’s about the fact that I’ve followed your recommendations to the letter yet I am still cursed with an excess of flatulence and bloating. It remains a blight upon my life and is endangering the success of my burgeoning career in show business. What are you going to do about it…I mean I’ve paid you a bloody fortune for nothing so far.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“So am I it just slipped out…thought it might be a silent one yet they rarely are.” 

“No I didn’t mean that, although I must confess it was not only audible for it pongs something chronic also. What I meant was that I’m sorry you’re still afflicted with the old rectal turbulence. Have you stuck to the personal plan I gave you though? When I say ‘stuck’ I mean stuck to the letter.” 

“No, I still lick my stamps when posting letters, although the moistness of my emissions would do the same job I suppose.” 

“Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn you really don’t get my drift do you – although I must confess I get yours; boy do I get yours! What I was trying to say was have you stuck to the health plan I gave you?” 

“Obviously, I’ve given up scoffing all the notorious gas-producing foods including beans, cabbage, bran, cauliflower, broccoli, onions, prunes, raisins and brussel sprouts as well as remaining aware that the sulphur in egg yolk also contributes to smelly gas. Just as you said I’m filling my face with bio-yogurt and miso soup as well as swallowing those probiotics capsules.” 

“Good to hear. At least your diet has improved…by the way I know it’s a bit chilly today but do you mind if I open the window? I do believe I’ll throw up if I don’t get some fresh air.” 

“Not at all, I mean I know my butt trumpeting is real bad when I can smell them myself. Anyway, going back on topic I regularly and where possible privately lie down on my back and pull my knees up the my chest in order to rid myself of the painful abdominal cramps associated with my condition yet find that only increases the volume. The herbal remedies you suggested are little more than worthless and I’ve had it up to here with ginger tea, peppermint tea and if I see another caraway, anise or celery seed I do believe I’ll top myself.” 

“Oh we really can’t have that dear girl, there must be a way forward…let me think…you must be inadvertently going ‘off piste’ on the dietary front I reckon. Tell me exactly what you gobble up routinely.” 

“Crikey if I did that it would be all over the tabloids by tea time.” 

“No Marilyn, food girl food. Given that you are not eating all the things I listed what are you eating…sorry I just have to stick my head out the window for a moment…ah, that’s better.” 

“Well I am partial to whelks washed down with real ale for lunch and come tea time I’m off down the curry house for a vindaloo most evenings.” 

“Bingo that’s it Marilyn. You merely have to lay off the whelks, beer and curries and your distressing anal salutes will be no more. I am thinking here a little chicken soup washed down with mineral water for a few days and that’ll be you sorted once and for all. How do you feel about that?” 

“Well if I must I must I suppose yet can’t you allow me just one last blow out on the curry front before I give it all up?” 

“Surely to God you’ve done it all on the ‘blow out’ front as you so succinctly put it yet if that will get you in the right frame of mind to do battle with this curse of yours I see little harm in it…just this once I stress.” 

“Cheers Dr Humperdink I can’t thank you enough.” 

Following this meeting with the good Dr Humperdink Marilyn did indeed go into town for that one last blast on the curry and beer front. Indeed she filled her face with all the chillie laden hot curry the Indian sub-continent could offer along with the best of British real ale (ten pints rumour has it). Upon getting home that night and playing (according to close neighbours) what sounded suspiciously like ‘The Last Post’ at extreme volume through the instrument of her delightful bum she decided to take a bath prior to taking to her bed.

Sadly, whilst relaxing in her bath the ‘wind’ took hold like never before. The bathroom being small, coupled with the fact she had shut the door (against the good doctor’s instructions) she died from carbon dioxide poisoning brought about by flatulence. Of course when the authorities found her the gas had dissipated thus making the Coroner’s job impossible. Marilyn’s death therefore remained a mystery for years to come…that is until the passing away of Dr Humperdink for there in his records were found the above transcript of his consultancy with Marilyn Monroe on that dreadful day she died.

40 thoughts on “MARILYN MONROE’S DISTRESSING FLATULENCE – History explained!

      1. I shall check with Shirley for more ‘Richard’ stories. I do recall when, all those years ago, when I first courted my ‘child bride’ – 8 years younger than me and it always gets her pissed off when I mention it – Richard told me that if he hasn’t had 4 poohs within each 24 hours he thinks he’s constipated! TRUE!

      2. He really believes it’s true – Shirley told me some more tales last evening which, upon waking I’ve forgotten! That often happens to me…I’m sure they will come flooding back over coffee

      3. Ah the very prompt I needed. It was in fact a tale of the day I first met (or should I say became aware of Richard). You see he lived two doors down from Shirley’s Mum and Dad. I was on my first visit there as Shirl’s new boyfriend at the time (for her part she was a few hours behind me travelling down to Devon by car). The visit started badly when her Dad upon being introduced to me said, ‘So you’re the second hand goods she’s been on about’. Regardless as I sat in the living room nervously sipping a cup of tea a small girl child appeared in a state of some panic saying, ‘Granddad, Granddad – to Shirl’s dad that is – Dad’s sat on the bog and we’ve run out of paper and he needs some now…like right now’ Don’t know why but that broke the ice as I burst out laughing.

  1. If anyone wants expert advice on this malady, or/and grumbling rumbling bubbling involuntary movements of a rapid nature – please contact me. Inchcock, c/o The Bathroom, 85 Sewer Lane, Nottingham. No charge for first consultation.

      1. Dear Mr Steedenski,
        First it is imperative that you take a minimum of 18 medications from a range of 12 medications every 24 hours. Ideally being brought up on Echo margarine, beef dripping and lard sandwiches and sterilised milk will be of the greatest benefit.
        If you have none of these advantages and do wish to take the ‘Scoff and podge’ approach to your training, the best out investigators have come up with for you are: Chinese vegetables in black bean sauce consumed with Lidl’s Dandylion & Burdock, followed by a period of one hours strict non-exercise and containment training four times a day. Alcohol and Epsom Salts can be taken freely throughout – but not on the day of the Championships – best then to watch a UKIP video, but do not puke before the contest starts!
        I wish you putridness and powerful passings in the final fart festival – do not forget, involuntary evacuations of any solid matter from the rear-end will get you disqualified!
        Good luck!

      2. A true story! Some years ago the wife’s brother was working on the QE2 and during the voyage from continent to continent the guys and gals aboard said vessel decided they would hold The World Farting Contest. Richard – that is her brother – was well known in his home town as a farter extraordinaire. I myself was with him once when walking the short distance from one pub to another when he released a single fart with each of the 57 steps twixt the two hostelries, stopping halfway along the route to blow out a lingering, very audible emission whilst pirouetting. Regardless, he was odds on to win The World Championships. Good fortune did not smile on Richard though for on the very day of the contest he peaked too early and had to settle for the silver medal. The shame of this has blighted his life ever since!

      3. Such a sad story Mike – please pass on by belated commiserations.
        I dropped an tiny involuntary tiny ‘Plup’ one this morning while in the queue for the haematology department at the QMC – I just kept head down in the free paper wot I wus reading… and turned me hearing aids off.

    1. A puzzle solved…I wasn’t a PI for nothing you know…this is ‘text speak’ methinks…never sent a single text in my life (true) yet I’ve solved the case! Well now I’ve got my mojo back I shall inquire with those in the know whether or not there is a juicy murder case that needs revisiting! Sherlock has returned

    1. Always best to play safe…yet there is always global warming to take into consideration. That’s why I always carry a spare balloon with me…one capable of reaching the upper stratosphere where the pressures of ether’s cruel vacuum can do no harm.

      1. Toilet humour got me sooo busted by the head nun when I was in high school. We had divinity and since she was a ‘little’ lazy she just gave us christian books to read. Not very interesting so I slipped Clive James ‘Unreliable Memoirs’ into the cover of another book. It was fine right up until I got to the part where the dunny man [the outside loo, and an iconic part of post wwII Australia] tripped over the bicyle and the ominous hum of blow flys reacting to the tiny click of the lid popping open and all the resultant mess. It was so well described from the perspective of an 8 year old boy that I just lost it. Trying to hold the laughter in made it worse so I was dragged up front made to show the book and sent to the head mistress. Still it was worth it and it’s still one of my favorite books.

      2. It is rather fun – even little babies seem to smile when passing wind! I’ve read a lot of Clive James so get a bit confused what tales are in what books (we have Unreliable Memoirs boxed up somewhere presently as we hope to move house soon). However is that the one that tells the tale of him as a young man playing tennis against a rather sexy young lady whereupon he had an embarrassing moment? I only remember that because a similar thing happened to me when in the sixth form all those years ago. How us chaps suffer!

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