Mrs. Wilsons True Tales Retold

(corresponding to “Topping the Bill”) At end of the Nineteenth century, Joseph Pujol was presented to Parisians by the Moulin Rouge for his incomparable performance of farts. In French he was called Le Petomane; translated into English, the “Fartiste”. Finely dressed in a red coat and black satin breeches with a vent for his buttock, gesturing for effect with white-gloved hands, he explained with deadpan to the audience that his emissions were completely odorless, since he irrigated his colon daily. He opened his act with fart impressions: a new bride’s timid toot; her long-winded emission after her first night of connubial pleasures; the booming fart of a miller; and the imitation of a dress maker tearing two-yards of calico—a ten-second-rip. He did impressions of famous people and blew out candles and the gas footlights from yards away. He exploded like cannon fire and thundered like a storm. And that was just the first half of the show. For the second half he retreated offstage and discretely inserted a