If you ever have difficulty recording the perfect fart, pureé up a kilogram of the freshest garlic you can find, and get me a travel ticket to wherever the sound booth is. Trust me, I could get you hundreds of the most exquisite farts from even a fraction of that garlic.

Sure, some will be short and wet and of the kind where you’re going to want to ask if I need to wipe afterwards. But most will be long and sonorous and reverberate across the entire room; the kind of farts where you wonder if I’ve got a full bassoon crammed up my kiester.