A daily diet of flatulent loaded foods ensured that she was able tootle her back-burner to her hearts content with a constant supply of gut wrenching methane exploding from her bulbous rear end.
As she trudged along the street on her way to purchase more methane kindling, she left a yellowish green fug behind her, and a slimy residue would stick to any unfortunate seat she decided to shimmy her humongous arse upon.
As a child she soon learnt that although her puke inflicting habit ensured she had no friends, she was well endowed with sufficient gas power to inflict a crushing victory over anyone stupid enough to cross her stinking path.
She was expelled from school due to her capacity to empty the classroom with one terrific guff, and had never held down paid employment for more than a day. Indeed, on her first day as a cleaner at a sewage plant, she was dismissed for setting of the plants methane alarms each time she passed the unfortunate mechanism's.
Having realised that her petulant flatulence could be her passport to wealth, she soon set up a network of terrified shopkeepers, publicans and hotel managers who would pay her a considerable sum of money to stay away or vacate their premises thus preventing her from evacuating her stinking bowel and alimentary canal and exploding foul air throughout their premises.
After a few years she had amassed a huge amount of flatulence protection money and retired to a bijou residence down wind of Darjeeling, adjacent to a combined sewage farm and sulphur works.
Her luxurious retirement was however rudely ended, when after drinking fifteen pints of stout and eating a mixture of Vindaloo curry and a hundred weight of baked beans, she exploded with the force of fifty thousand tons of TNT distributing her entrails across the Darjeeling hinterland.
And that was the end of Madame Methane.................
