I need to apologise from the start. And warn you. Apologies and warnings: The word fart is about to be mentioned many times. The topic of farting will also be heavily explored, although without heavy use of science. Sadly there's no way around it. If I want to tell a story about man and his farts I can't skip over the farting. I guess I could just come up with some metaphor or euphemism for farting, like 'singing the saddest song', but it might go over everyone's head. I know I don't totally understand it.

Anyway, once upon a time there was a man like no other. His name was Bear. He wasn't a bear, as I said, he was a man. He suffered from a very rare medical condition, which, when combined with his unusual name, made him the perfect character for a story.

At a very young age Bear realised that he wasn't entirely normal. Like other young boys he enjoyed cars that could be turned into robots (and vice versa) and planning to build treehouses. (Although a house in the trees was never anything more than a dream, because without a strong father figure or any father figure at all, who would help him build it?) What set Bear apart from his friends and classmates, apart from his name and his single parent family in a time of few divorces, were his farts. They smelled delightful.

This caused Bear great embarassment. He knew that he wasn't like the other boys and he did his best to keep his bodily gasses tight within his skin and flesh. Unfortunately skin and flesh were all he had, for he wasn't made of steel or bricks, and every so often the pressure grew too much for him to hold, leaving the inevitable outcome: a fart.

"Has someone spilled potpourri?" his classmates would cry. "Is that you, Bear? Have you been brushing your teeth with lilacs and lavender again?" His face would redden and it would take hours for his shame to pass.

But pass it did, as did the years. He became a man, a man of great sadness, but with the bowels and anus of a 25th century robot. Not literally, of course, but fifteen years of holding in farts had strengthened him up, leaving him with organs of steel (again, not literally).

Tragically, even the most advanced 25th century robot still malfunctions occasionally (I just want to re-iterate that during the fifteen year leap forward in the story Bear hasn't become a robot and just in case it's not completely clear, the fifteen years passed naturally without the aid of science fiction. Thanks). Bear was on a plane going from New York to London, the reason is not important, but what happened on that flight not only changed Bear's life, but also the lives of some other people. Maybe even you.

At 10,000 ft Bear farted for the first time in six years. Maybe it was the cabin pressure, maybe it was the bagel he'd eaten for lunch, or maybe it was something to do with Katie Price a.k.a Jordan a.k.a Katie Price sitting in the next seat over, in a lowcut top and hair curled up like a cheap princess. It's entirely possible that her gigantic breasts caused an onset of nerves. Even a man with steel-like insides is not immune to the circus-like proportions of a glamour lady.

After hearing the dull thud against her neighbour's seat, Katie turned to Bear, inhaled deeply and asked "Was that you?" Knowing that it's rude to lie to a celebrity, Bear admitted his flatulence with a sadness in his eyes.

However, his sadness was unwarranted, because Katie brought her head close to his thighs and whispered "Do it again." Even though Bear was pleased to recieve the attention of the former Queen of the Jungle, he was still embarassed about his body's odours.

"Not here." he said "When we land." Katie didn't say another word, she looked into his eyes, took hold of his hand and sat in silence for the remaining two hours of the flight, sometimes placing his cold and nervous hand between her warm, sweaty knees.

When they landed at Heathrow Katie excused herself for a moment, telling Bear that she needed to make a phonecall. "Don't go anywhere." Bear stayed where he was told and his thoughts wandered, mixing reality and his dreams. Was he about to become Jordan's latest plaything?

She returned five minutes later, with a smile and her luggage. Placing her suitcase next to Bear's she leant in close to him and parked her lips upon his, which is where they stayed motionless for five more seconds. It wasn't quite a kiss, even though technically it probably was. Bear thought to himself that she must have thought it was some kind of extremely sensual act, although he found it a little bit strange. Maybe that's just how famous people kiss.

Outside they jumped into a cab and headed straight to the nearest reasonably priced hotel, which was only thirty seconds away. It was quite clearly walking distance and Bear thought that if this was the celebrity lifestyle, then long may it continue. He'd never walk anywhere again.

They checked into the hotel under his name, leaving the receptionist, whose name was Natalie, to believe that it was a fake name being given for the sole purpose of secretly having sex with Katie Price. They got into the lift, even though their room was on the first floor, but that just seemed natural to Bear now, he was already immersed in the celebrity world of little to no walking. Just before the ping of the doors Katie asked Bear if he was ready to do it. He was.

They slipped into room 103. By the time Bear had closed the door, Katie was already naked on the bed and holding a variety of sex toys, many of which looked terrifying and otherwordly. "Now do it." she sang. He turned to face away from her and from rear end of his body came the sweet smell of summertime. "That's it!" she cried "That's it. Do it again. Do it again!"

He removed his trousers and farted once more. Katie rolled around the bed in ecstasy. "Like roses dipped in petrol! Like cookies baked in fresh snow! What smells you have!" For five more minutes this erotic game of fart and smell continued, until finally Jordan asked Bear to move closer to the wardrobe. "Put your bum right up against the door. Yes, that's it. Now fart, fart like you've never farted before." And so he did. For the first time in his life he felt normal, free to break wind without fear of looks of pity and scorn. It was the greatest moment of his life, but a moment is all that it lasted, because from the wardrobe came an almighty cry of

"THAT'S THE ONE!!!" Quickly followed by the banging of the doors as the blew open. There stood Peter Andre clutching a thick rope in his tiny hands. Bear stood frozen in panic, like a deer caught in the headlights. The scene shifted into slow motion as Peter tackled Bear onto the bed. "Grab his arms." squeaked the Australian singer. For what seemed like an eternity the three of them struggled on that king sized mattress, until eventually Bear was tamed, tied and broken.

Jordan lifted her bra from the floor and used it to gag the bloodied Bear. It tasted like corriander and peppermint. "We've finally done it." she said to her husband "We've finally found the scent." The couple made love as if it were their honeymoon, not worrying about the sobbing man tied up next to them.

Once night time arrived, the celebrity pair used the cover of darkness and the cover of a duvet to sneak the bound man to their car. He was delicately placed in the boot and driven to the couple's secret country home. Sadly the drive took a long time and the prisoner wasn't offered a single toilet break, even when the kidnappers stopped at two separate motorway Burger Kings for Whoppers, fried cheese and milkshakes. He shit himself. Real bad. When Jordan opened the boot she was greeted by the terrifying smell of heaven. It overpowered her senses and she fainted. When she came to, Peter had already moved the prisoner into the house, a house which lacked the soft furnishings and leopard skin rugs one would have expected in their country retreat. The place was one giant laboratory.

There lay Bear, naked on a table, with a tube in his mouth and a tube in his you know what (not his penis). He tried to cry out, but the tube made it impossible. He struggled, but his limbs were bound with fluffy handcuffs. He gave up. He accepted his fate and lay there motionless, as still as Jordan's strange, tender kiss. Twelve days later he was dead.

Six months passed. The 20th of August 2007 arrived with great anticipation. Not for Bear, he was long dead, but Katie and Peter had invested three years of tiresome work into finding the right fragrence for Katie's Celebrity Scent. At 9am, Stunning would hit the shelves of Boots, Superdrug and selected Tesco Extras. Who knows how many men were killed in the search? (17) But it would all be worth it. It would all be worth it. Those were the words that Jordan had uttered to her husband so many times over the past three years. The guilt was eating him alive, his six pack was crumbling and his hair was thinning. He had just one shot at redemption, the success of Katie's perfume. Only then would the deaths of those poor men not be in vain.

Two years melted away like cheap ice. Stunning had gained just 0.37% of the Celebrity Scent market share. Even the late Jade Goody still controlled 14% of the lucrative market. Some say it failed because they added too much jasmine. Others say that through the heart shaped bottle women could hear the dying screams of Bear. Mere ghost stories started on internet messageboards by the makers of Sarah Jessica Parker's own smells. It doesn't take a wise man to realise that it was doomed from the very beginning, no matter how beautiful the smell, because with Katie's murky past the public would never willingly want to smell like her.

It all proved to be too much for Peter, he was just a man looking for a simple life of love and the occasional number one hit single. The tremendous strain on his tormented soul, the bubbling remorse boiling away at his insides, the cries that continued to haunt his dreams. He walked through life like a creme egg robbed of its creme. He could never forgive her for forcing him into a life of murder and fragrence. "But I never made you do anything" she told him "You did it all for love."

"And how is that any different?" he wept. "How is that any different?" A week later they split.

And they all lived publically ever after.