Sir Atney. When not committing anecdotes to posterity, hard at it on federal energy policy

Dear reader, just to demonstrate the completeness of our “new age” and whollistic approach to modern physiology and in particular, the regulation of the intensity of physiological reactions we present to you, this, (hot off the press) piece of self-help advice from that luminary of the lower intestine Sir Atney of Emo.

Stand with us and exult as he delivers some expert advice couched in an anecdote which puts light on our previous corrsepondents condition.

And may we suggest if this condition persists we urge you to contact our hotline and consult the eminent physician, Dr Erasmus Windtschlapper (late of UTRECHT) who will expedite a cure. And we also advise a caution for minors who may find this description offensive. Sir Atney suggests:

My advice to the ‘Petomane of the Aisles’…

First, I’d be careful about trying to offload onto a guiltless fellow-shopper the ownership of one’s offensive effluvia, simply to divert the odium usually attached to such odoriferous outrages.

The Horse, “Blossom’.

Your stratagem could so easily backfire, for example…

Many years ago, in rural Ireland, a nun hired a horse-drawn jaunting car to convey her from the train station to her convent.

After jogging along at a sedate pace, the elderly nag strained to climb up a steep hill, then slowed down – and eventually stopped.

The the horror of the jarvey (the driver), the horse slowly lifted its tail… and vented a rumbling, drawn-out flatus.  Within seconds, the driver and the nun were enveloped in a warm, musty cloud of methane and hydrogen sulphide – prompting a paroxysm of coughing and breathlessness.

Having thus relieved itself, the horse once again strained against its halter and resumed its slow plod up the steep incline.

Josh Frydenberg pretending no one has noticed.

In an agony of embarrassment, the jarvey turned to the nun, who was still dabbing her streaming eyes.

“Faith, Mother Superior, I really don’t know how to apologise to you for that appalling incident,” he stammered. “Sure, and it must have been something that was eaten…”

“Now, don’t feel at all embarrassed, my good man,” replied the nun.  “Breaking wind is a natural, often involuntary act…. As it happens, until you apologised I had actually assumed it was the horse that had farted!”

Alternative ploys:

– Stick an over-ripe camembert atop your trolly

– Place an Odor-Eater (or charcoal bag) down the seat of your track pants

– ‘Accidentally’ loosen the cap of a bottle of Jeypine

– Walk closely behind a dishevelled geriatric of the ‘Old Fart’ description, holding your nose and grimmacing

Other underutilised energy sources abound in the “Clever Country”.

Hope that helps!  (Works for me.)

Sound advice. And in the absence of any overarching coherent Federal energy policy, perhaps a pointer to where future energy storage lies.