burping indie boys

BETTER IN THAN OUT
words: AMP





"Give me that thar whole grill"
"Coming at you mate!"
You flatulate the gas that you ate
It's really just doody in vaporous form
Mine is so fresh the paper is warm!"

MC Paul Barman, Burpin' and Fartin'


Did I miss a memo somewhere? I was raised to believe it's impolite to belch in public. Swallow it; muffle it; or should, heaven forfend, an eruption occur, apologise the offending sound away. As for ass-gas? Good grief no. Vanish to the bathroom to discreetly excrete the vapours your body insists upon creating; else, clamp thighs, compress sphlincters, keep it in. Be polite. Be neat. Be discreet.

But no! I missed a memo! I emerged from my starter marriage a few years ago keen to meet, mingle and mate with members of the opposite sex who were not my ex, and what did I find? Eruptions, burps, belches - all extruded from pursed lips, followed perhaps by a delighted, satisfied sigh, and hands slapped upon the belly in staccato echo of the throat's issue.

And these noises were not being ejected from the mouths of stereotypical 'salt of the earth' types: men with sunburned beer-bellies, Union Jack hankies knotted upon their heads, ten pints on their insides, pitbulls tattooed upon their buttocks, oh no. These detonations were sent forth from the throats of that most delicate and charming of the species, the twentysomething London hipster boy.

Yup, that very flower of 21st-century manhood: cultured little Dalston / Stokie / Shoreditch scenesters, with harsh glasses, ties around their necks, badge-bedecked lapels, a battered copy of Simon Reynolds' Energy Flash in their bag - who would have thought that inside these objects of desire lurked a vile and noxious soup? And who would have thought they would have been so keen - nay, proud - to help launch the gaseous eruptions into the atmosphere?







A direct challenge to these flatulent indie straightlords does not help. 'Better out than in', trills one, enjoying the cliché. 'It builds up', declares another - a boy normally so refined that he garnishes his salmon steaks with shredded basil leaves even when alone - 'and that's unhealthy. A girl once died of a hernia from keeping it in!'. He disgorges a carbonated gurgle to underscore his point.

And this is not brother-sister companionship, nor cosy open-bathroom-door relationship fodder, no, these are affaires, liasions, this is the sexxed-up fourth-date flush of fresh intimacy: all spiralling conversations, arch looks, licked lips, flirtatious glances - punctuated with the unctuous rumble of male intestinal activity.


What to do? A bare-faced complaint merely elicits a sniggering, sarcastic 'SORRY!' and a sidelong glance to assess your response to all subsequent gaseous activity. Ignoring it may appeal; but to do so risks the slow slaughter of your crushed-out status, as your once-moist area desiccates like coconut in response to his flatulent refrain.

Do gay men on dates also belch with aplomb? Is it universally accepted that girls will hold it in while boys will let it out? Or is it that the male sexual gaze is more exacting, demanding audio-visual pleasure from its object, while the female gaze is still - still - more forgiving, embracing whatever it finds in an 'oh-well-at-least-I-got-a-man' splutter of sexual and social submissiveness?

Or, did I simply miss the memo that read "EVEN REALLY REFINED MALES ARE PERMITTED TO BE GROSS AND DISGUSTING FROM PRETTY MUCH THE THIRD DATE ON, AND YOU’RE JUST SUPPOSED TO SUCK IT UP AND DEAL? "

I think we should be told.












 

SLEAZE FACTOID

AMPNET TAKES BOY BELCHERS TO TASK! TOP 5 MOST OFFENSIVE:

Manburp - Belch loudly mid-conversation, carry on as if nothing’s happened

Stealth burp - Tap date on shoulder, lean in to "tell them a secret", belch directly into ear

Talking burp - Burp a word or sentence. Can you burp your date’s name?

Salute burp -
Attract date’s attention, bang clenched fist on chest to ease the upwards passage of gas, then belch while raising arm in triumphant salute.

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