How would you feel if you got a love letter about your farts?

More specifically, detailing the sound, length and smell of them

Yesterday, I was reading how Pattie Boyd is selling the love letters she received from her former husband George Harrison and his close friend, Eric Clapton.

In a real life Love Actually moment, Eric was also in love with Pattie and like George, Eric used his penmanship to declare it.

“What I wish to ask you is, if you still love your husband or if you have another lover? All these questions are very impertinent I know, but if there is still a feeling in your heart for me, you must let me know!”

I don’t know what’s more of a bold move, to be honest. Sending that letter, or turning up announced with multiple handwritten signs.

I used to keep my own love letters/cards under my bed in my memory box. Sometimes, usually on a Sunday evening, I would go rummaging for them.

Re-reading that blue spidery lettering gave me comfort for many years. It was a reminder of what I meant to that person once.

However, as the years past, holding onto them made me feel almost fraudulent. It felt, wrong to have a sentimental attachment to words that were now said to someone else.

While I can’t ever imagine selling something as private as that, I did eventually rip them up. After all, those words had lost all meaning.

The news of Pattie’s love letters, not only reminded me of my own, but also of another infamous scriber’s.

James Joyce was an Irish novelist and he exchanged a series of, how shall I put this, passionate letters with his future wife, Nora Barnacle, back in the early 1900s.

You can read them all here (I certainly have), but I wanted to share with you my personal favourite, because it truly is like no love letter you’ve ever seen before.

Dated the 8th Decemember 1909, it truly does start how it means to go on. “My sweet little whorish Nora”, he writes.

“I did as you told me, you dirty little girl, and pulled myself off twice when I read your letter. I am delighted to see that you do like being fucked arseways.”

Just wait, it gets wilder…

“If I gave you a bigger stronger fuck than usual fat dirty farts came spluttering out of your backside. You had an arse full of farts that night, darling, and I fucked them out of you.”

Can you even imagine getting a letter like this from your partner? But, wait, he’s not done depicting Nora’s blow offs.

“Big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks and a lot of tiny little naughty farties ending in a long gush from your hole.”

I think all of us, who have ever given themselves stomach cramps trying to hold in their gas around a love interest, are sympathising with Nora here.

Turns out though, there was no need for that in front of James.

“I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere,” he boldy declares. “I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.” Let’s just hope it never comes down to that.

“It is a rather girlish noise,” he continues. “Not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have.” Hey, leave the fat phobia to teenage boys on TikTok please James.

“I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts in my face so that I may know their smell also.”

Xoxo James

Now, not judging you Nora, but if anyone should have ripped up their love letters, it was most definitely you. Although, I’m obviously delighted you didn’t.