In a manner of speaking

So, after reading Bill Bryson for an hour in which he refers to the manners of the British, I got to thinking about the natural sounds that the human body produces as by products of its daily functioning. In western society, most of these must be concealed by whatever means in the name of good manners, or at least brought back to a level where only one nearby head might turn or its eyebrows rise.
Following personal research conducted over many years in many places, it would seem that the ability to avoid noisy embarrassment is roughly proportional to age. A healthy (including un-intoxicated) twenty year old would probably have a safety factor of 95% whereas someone over ninety (intoxicated or not) might not achieve more than 10% – I hasten to add that these are just statistical norms, before you go on about how exceptional your abilities obviously are for your age.
I should imagine that people who take part in international diplomacy have some sort of protection to avoid precipitating wars or debilitating sanctions through bad manners. Active royalty, for example, are almost certainly kitted out with royal corks, not large enough to cause discomfort but large enough to avoid popping out due to the after effects of a curry lunch. Imagine the king or queen of some dwindling western nation getting up to reply to the condescending though rewarding deliberations of some deliriously rich potentate who has just agreed to buy up a few of their country’s cities to save them from an otherwise inevitable fall into further ruin and decay – it could be Britain:
‘Your Highness, on behalf of myself, my government and my people, I wish to thank you most heartily for your overwhelming generosity. Although I find it difficult to put into words what I know my many suffering subjects will feel when they hear the good news, I think I can sum it up with one word.’
And then it happens, his or her majesty pops their cork, making wine glasses tremble and chandeliers and window drapes move perceptibly albeit in a courteous manner.
It can’t happen so it probably won’t, but I’d really love to be witness to it if it does, wouldn’t you?
Boris Yeltsin would have been on my most likely list of possible culprits. After too much vodka and beans he might have forgotten to adjust his cork while bending over some seated unsuspecting dishy female diplomat in an attempt to squeeze a breast.
Anyway, it seems I’ve reached the age of about 75% controllability so occasionally one of those rascals does succeed in slipping out without warning. If I am lucky enough to receive prior knowledge that a fart is unavoidably on the way, I can often reduce its potentially embarrassing repercussions by applying a certain muscular dexterity to reduce its acoustic level while emitting a suitably timed heavy cough to hopefully take care of the remaining unwelcome decibels. Of course, it’s important to realize that when using a cough in such a manner one has to take into account that its noise level is less to a bystander than it is to the emitter, so you’ve been warned.
In yet another TV discussion on the H1N1 virus, a well known biologist dared to suggest that government advice to the afflicted to blow their noses into a tissue or sneeze into their arm wouldn’t stop any virus worth its salt from escaping into the surrounding air and attacking bystanders. Even the small holes of a tissue are apparently as large to a virus as the Grand Canyon is to a fly. His advice was to clear one’s nose by sniffing up, thus keeping the viruses to oneself. Although this is considered bad manners in most western nations he suggested that the “seriousness” of the issue should perhaps make governments think twice.
So should one sniff with disgust or sniff to disgust?