“Britain’s Got Talent” – farting around causes national outrage in Romania

(This blog was also published in the Huffington Post)

My chum Mr Methane, the world’s only professionally performing farteur, caused a bit of a stink when he appeared on Britain’s Got Talent in 2009 and now he has innocently caused national outrage in Romania.

Last Thursday, viewers were happily watching the current affairs programme Stirea Zilei (News of the Day) on Antena3 TV. Presenter Gabriela Vranceanu Firea was hosting a serious political debate which included former Romanian Prime Minister Adrian Nastase who, not surprisingly was critical of the current ruling politicians.

Then, 16 minutes 25 seconds into the show, they screened footage of Mr Methane on Britain’s Got Talent, farting the Romanian national anthem. The whole Stirea Zilei show is online here:

http://inregistrari.antena3.ro/view-06_Oct-2011-Stirea_Zilei-10.html

The relevant clip was also posted on YouTube:

Angry Romanians enraged that Mr Methane had insulted their nation complained to the TV station, complained to YouTube and contacted Mr Methane direct by e-mail demanding an apology before realising that they had, in fact, been duped.

The TV channel had over-dubbed the sound of a farted Romanian national anthem.

Quite whom they employed to do this complicated task remains a mystery; one suspects a clever videotape editor with a lot of time on his hands.

Reaction included a message from one Dragos B. Baia Mare saying: “My country Romania was humiliated… The people who lead us have allowed my country Romania to be mocked. Try to live dignified and decent. Romanians Awake!”

A more informed but anonymous viewer who had checked the original Britain’s Got Talent clip on YouTube wrote (and I can only go here by what Google Translate tells me):

“To run a movie with a performance of a candidate reprehensible in a contest, with background music is changed intentionally demeaning to every novel that has followed this issue. Especially with how serious it is attitude, not all citizens can check if the original movie in the background was the national anthem or not, the intent to mislead a substantial mass of viewers, is obvious. Last but not least, the use of national anthem for such purposes and to get the audience and to provoke discussion, must be punished.”

I have to agree (I think).

One Romanian who watched the TV show in Bucharest told me: “It felt frustrating and kinda humiliating to see and hear the national anthem being played through the ass.”

A bemused Mr. Methane says: “I’m no stranger to controversy and I don’t mind taking the blame for my own ‘colon coughs’ but, in this case, my botty bugle was not involved. I had been set up and what would really upset me is if this footage has been licensed to be used in this way by TalkbackThames, the UK copyright holder and producer of Britain’s Got Talent…

“I suspect that the Romanian TV channel may have just  gone ahead and used it without their and ITV’s permission. Either way, it’s pain in the arse. I think I deserve an apology from one of them or maybe both. If they want to insult the Romanian national anthem and seek a confrontation with outraged Romanian citizens everywhere, they should take responsibility for their own farting around and not try to pass it off as mine“.

You can see the original Britain’s Got Talent clip without the Romanian national anthem here:

(FOOTNOTE: There was an update and continuation of this blog story two days later here.)

True tales from the Comedians’ Cricket Match?

Apparently, during filming of the new movie Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, author John Le Carré was phoned up and a key line was added. It was during a scene in which new information was assessed and the line was:

“Patently a fabrication from beginning to end. Just could be the real thing.”

I have found that the more unlikely a story, the more likely it is to be true. When comedian say something likely, it is often made up; when they say something too OTT to be true… it is often a toning-down of a far more OTT truth.

Yesterday, I was at the comedians’ annual cricket match against the locals at Staplefield in West Sussex. It seems to be held every six months.

Cricket is possibly the dullest game ever invented. But you certainly meet some interesting people and hear some interesting stories at the comedians’ cricket match.

While theoretically watching, I got talking to a retired fireman who used to work in Slough. He told me that, occasionally, he would cycle into work to Slough from Staplefield, a journey of 54 miles. It would take him three hours but keep him fit. And he once cycled from Slough to Northampton and back – a 140 mile round trip – to see a girlfriend.

Clearly Staplefield harbours some hardy people.

One comedian at the match told me about not appearing on the Sky TV talent show Don’t Stop Me Now in which contestants are ejected in various odd ways including being jerked up into the air by a rope or wire or dropped through a trapdoor.

The comic in question was told he could not use the word “Nazis” in his routine because “people might be offended”. Not offended by the routine or the gag, which was inoffensive, but by any use of the word “Nazis” in any sentence. Another problem was that he turned out to be too heavy for either the rope or the trapdoor. Sky did not use him on the show.

Another comic (and it is fairly obvious to other comics who this is) told me that, in horse racing, there had been a fad a few years ago – if a fellow jockey was asleep – to drop either snot or sperm onto the unconscious person’s closed eyes.

“Snot and sperm,” I was told, “are both at body temperature, so the person doesn’t wake up. But, when they do, they find their eyelids are stuck together for a little bit and they think they are blind… How we used to laugh!”

This story vies with another for most bizarre story of yesterday.

I heard the other story at local pub the Victory Inn from a guy of about 30 who claimed he had been in the Army and had been in Afghanistan. His tour over there is not actually relevant, but I mentioned to him the story I have blogged about before of the Irish Republican sympathiser who was put unconscious on a plane to New York.

The story I was told yesterday was a tale of a personal dispute between a couple of Army men and a non-Army person who had screwed them out of money. When the money could not be recovered, they removed him from his house one night, drugged him so he was unconscious, put him in a container lorry, drove it to the Balkans to a place they knew in a forest on a remote hillside miles from any town or village. They stripped him, gave him a tab of LSD and left him there on the hillside, naked and presuming he was still in the UK.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“I’ve got no idea,” the man in the pub told me. “Not interested.”

He shrugged his shoulders.

The story seems unlikely but, perhaps because of that, it has the ring of truth about it.

Who can tell betwixt reality and fantasy, especially if you find yourself naked and alone on a hillside where any locals you meet will be speaking in an unknown language.