Written by Skoob1999
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Monday, 16 April 2012

image for Dorking Porn Star Couple Axed For Excessive Flatulence On Set
Should Be Banned

Dorking's own famous porn star couple, Tracy Storm and Harry Knutsford were sent packing from the set of Hollywood adult movie extravaganza, 'By Jove, That's A Stonker!' by Director, Phil Cleavage, after apparently suffering from excessive flatulence on set.

Cleavage told reporters at a hastily convened press conference, that Storm and Knutsford's performances didn't quite cut the Dijon (But not in a pretentious way) and that their gas fart emissions were proving way too much for their co-stars to bear.

"It's with great regret that I have to announce that Storm and Knutsford were banished from the set of my art house porno movie, 'By Jove That's A Stonker!' but the bottom line is that their shit stinks," Cleavage said.

It would appear that this is merely the latest salvo in an ongoing Transatlantic war, during which, a number of British adult movie performers have complained that American porn lacks subtlety, taste, and sensitivity. To which a member of the American contingent said: 'What a load of crap! People who watch porn only want to see some down and dirty action. It's all about the money shot. When Dorking can come up with a seasoned pro like Ron Jeremy, we may start listening. In my experience the Brits just fart a lot. I but it down to bad diet and a backward culture.'

It would appear that there is a cultural gulf developing between the Americans and the British, and it's one that intrigues the French.

"They don't understand," French porn director Zizu La Tuatt commented. "It is about erotica, love, passion, and getting a little jiggy with it with snails, a bottle of Bordeaux and a temperamental Parisienne waiter with a bad attitude. And some lacy lingerie."

"That's all well and good," Phil Cleavage responded. "But essentially what you're asking me to do here is accept the word of some dude who eats frogs legs and snails, and probably a lot of garlic, trying to tell me what constitutes eroticism. That's just a crock of crap in my book. The Brits wanna moan about the direct approach? It'd sure help a lot if they stopped eating their Goddamned pie and peas and didn't blow off so often on set. It ain't just embarrassing for all concerned - it's air pollution. Jeeze - when we had Storm and Knutsford on the set, it was so bad that I had to go out onto the Ventura freeway for some fresh air...they're disgusting. They should go back to Dorking with the rest of the Goddamned dorks and keep their stinky asses to themselves."

Upon her arrival at Heathrow, Tracy Storm, clearly agitated told reporters:

"It's good to be home, but we're gonna sue that Cleavage for every penny he's got. What a two faced bastard. He makes out that Harry and I suffered from excessive flatulence in his movie extravaganza? What a load of old shit! No pun intended. I emitted the tiniest botty burp in a lesbian scene with Letta Snow, and I let out a rasper when I was noshing Randy Pole - who's gay anyway, by the way - and that was it. This is victimisation at its basest level. A guff and a puff and I'm fired? What the heck is all that about? The world's gone mad if you ask me."

Italian art house director, Sal Volatile, refused to be drawn into the argument, citing his Neapolitan upbringing, the fear of discovering a severed racehorse's head in his bed and the Gambino crime family, but he did say:

"I don't understand the farting bit. In my movies everybody farts. I blame the pasta, and the Parmesan - in La Bella Italia we look on it as an occupational hazard. In America is different - everybody in America is perfetto, all men are big and manly and all actress ladies are plastic and they never shit. And even when they do - it doesn't stink. Unless of jasmine."

Harry Knutsford refused to be drawn on the topic upon his arrival back at Heathrow, but he did have a word or two to share about farts in intimmate situations:

"I don't condone that," he said as he rushed through customs. "It's unforgivable, it really is. But occasionally you just can't help but let one rip. Even when Cindy Special is giving you a top gobble. It's regrettable, but when you've been up all night eating pie and peas, it's going to happen. There's no avoiding it. You can clench all you like, but it'll sneak out in the end. Phil Cleavage is just acting like a dick. I only ever farted a handful of times, and never in key scenes. Mind you, it didn't half stink when I did. Anyway, I just want to go home now and put this nightmare behind me. I'm going back to Dorking and a night of passion with Tracy. We're having pie and peas, pickled eggs, and baked beans with sauerkraut, then we're going to convert our bedroom into a biological no go area. Hopefully they'll be able to smell it in Iceland. And hopefully some people will get the message."

"My ass!" Phil Cleavage countered. "The only message to be delivered here is that shit is shit, it stinks like shit, and it behaves like shit. Let the bastards sue me. See if I give a fuck..."

"His plot was pretty crap and one dimensional," Harry Knutsford's agent remarked. "The way I look at it is if you're going to do filth, the least you owe your audience is to do it with a little taste."

No shit. Or maybe too much.

More as we get it.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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