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And in winder, under my greatcoat, I wrapped myself in swalhes of newspaper, and did not shed them until the, earth awoke, for good, in April.

The Times Literary Supplement was admirably adapted to this purpose, of a neverfailing toughness and impermeability.

Even farts made no impression on it.

I can't help it, gas escapes from my fundament, on the least pretext,

It's hard not to mention it now and then, however great my distaste.

One day I counted them.

Three hundred and fifteen farts in nineteen hours, or an average of over Sixteen farts an hour.

After all it's not excessive.

Four farts every fifteen minutes.

It's nothing.

Not even one fart every four minutes.

It's unbelievable.

Dammit, I Hardly fart at all, I should never have mentioned it.


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Title Annotation:Tragic Strip
Author:Beckett, Samuel
Publication:The Brooklyn Rail
Article Type:Cartoon
Date:Oct 1, 2012
Previous Article:New England.
Next Article:A note from the publisher.

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