I describe myself as a Performing Flatulist. My performance is called 'Petomania' by the French, although here in England we like to call it 'Controlled Anal Voicing' or 'CAV' for short.
I first discovered my talent quite by accident at the tender age of 15. I was practicing the 'Full Lotus' position encouraged by my Yoga loving sister when I discovered the ability to breath both fore and aft, so to speak.
The next day I gave a lunchtime performance for a group of friends in the squash courts at Ryles Park County High School, Macclesfield, Cheshire, England. I think 20 rapid fire rasping farts in under a minute was the order of the day, quite an achievement and so popular was it that this became a regular event, swelling my pocket money reserves. A full-time career as a performing flatulist was at this stage not on the cards however.
I left school and started work for British Rail a few months before my eighteenth birthday. Then it happened...I remember it well.
I was on a course at Ladywell House, Preston, learning the finer points of the Brush Type 4 Locomotive. The course was thorough and comprehensive with schematic diagrams of all the Locomotives component parts and systems.
We had just broke off for a quick cup of tea and I decided to inject a little humor into the proceedings with my long forgotten, but thankfully just remembered, Trouser Trumpet. Needless to say it was a runaway sensation and the source of much needed light relief among the group on that day.
More significantly, word of my ability went before me around the national railway system and "Lay Over" periods at far flung mess rooms would result in requests for a quick tune on my anal organ from fellow train crews.
In the late 1980s I transferred to Buxton motive power depot in Derbyshire.
It was while working at Buxton MPD that I met a fellow Driver called Paul Genders. Paul Genders (I mention his name twice because he gets upset if I don't) also played in a Macclesfield based Soul/Blues cover band called 'The Screaming Beavers'! Every Monday the Beavers held a club night at a local venue and Paul invited me to appear one Monday evening as a guest artist to which I agreed.
I remember my chief reservation about this first truly public engagement being the prospect of upsetting or offending someone's spouse. I needn't have worried, the audience was breathless with admiration and the subsequent demand for performance was such that I had to make the transition from Train Driver to full time Flatulist, in order to fulfill an insatiable demand. You can't ignore the chance of being able to tell your Grandchildren that you made a living by farting. The rest is as they say, "History."
I used to perform in a smart suit and tie as 'The Incredible Farting Man from Buxton Shunting Yards', but that was a bit of a mouthful so Mr. Methane was born - the name said it all. The costume, cape, and mask came about because I felt that like Superman, I should have an alter ego that I changed into whenever I performed my Super Human Anal Powers. Also, just like Superman I felt I should keep my real identity a secret to add mystery.
My proudest moment was when the Mr. Methane DVD was finally finished (Mr Methane: Let's Rip [1]) because until then it had always been very difficult to catch the essence of my show on video. Unless you came to a gig you had very little idea of what the fuss was all about. Once that video was in the can I was happier because I knew that if I retired tomorrow there would be some reference material for posterity that I could show the grandchildren.
There are some ladies who absolutely love Mr. Methane, but percentage wise I would says it's more of a guy's thing. I don't know why that is; I can't say if it's a gender thing or something else... I'm really not sure what it is because the ladies who like it really do like it.
I think the world will always need an innocent laugh that isn't political, sexist or racist and crosses cultural and language barriers. Fart humor has always been able to do that so maybe there will always be a niche market out there for Mr.Methane. Whether Mr. Methane can go on performing into his seventies without having an accident, now that's another question.
Age dictates that one day I will have to hang up my underpants or like a Kung Fu master, pass on my anal powers by teaching a disciple my art. When the time comes, I'm not adverse to doing that.
A yoga mat and some loose fitting trousers are my kryptonite. My talents are muscular. Basically I breathe with my bottom so I do lots of Yoga exercises to keep farting fit, that way hopefully my career won't go down the pan.
As for liking my own brand? I appreciate the smell of my own farts but not someone else's gas. I don't think I'm unique in that department.I think that goes for most people.
