I’ve only one wish for the New Year. I just want to be able to fart. Fart with confidence, I mean.

I’ve got a hernia, fellas, and when it’s playing up its excruciating. And practically, it’s like one of those women who’ve got

it all wrong; it’s a tease.

Experience over the last four months (since the blighter got out of hand) is that you’re stuck with a relentless pressure to fart. You just know that a good fart would solve all your troubles.

But, maybe it isn’t just a fart. Maybe there’s something else, something solid in the pipeline, playing the role of Plug. It’s a plug under pressure, somewhere in the guts.

There’s also the issue of taking a piss – not actually taking it, you understand, but trying to anticipate that what you’ve got on offer is Noah’s flood rather than a Peter Pan trickle.

For years and years I’ve farted with the best of ‘em and never thought anything about it. it’s been one of those human activities that must have been a natural activity when we were still in the trees as Homo Erectus. Come to think of it, it was probably easier to handle when you were climbing up and down trees searching for the next meal or alternatively trying to hide out from some nasty fucker that had you in mind for his next meal.

I swear if I can get the medics to settle my groin problem I’ll never resent anybody farting in my face ever again.

Not ever.

And a Happy New Year to you.