So, today we have a etiquette question.

How do you politely explain to a Golden Retriever, that much as you love him, and much as you don't mind him sleeping on the bed next to you every night (as long as you don't have anyone else there), you really really wish he'd stop farting?

I mean, he's an otherwise excellent co-habitee of the bed. He doesn't toss and turn, he doesn't snore, and he doesn't talk in his sleep.

Last night, however, he positioned himself, lying arsewards towards my head, fell asleep and then commenced the sort of biological attack, that could justify our President Roscoe P. Coltrane, sending the troops in.

I mean, it was like the Elephant House at the zoo in here. I was expecting some guy to burst in with a mop, bucket and zookeeper's hat, at any moment, and start doling out current buns.

As I write, he's fallen asleep again, next to me. The dog, not the zookeeper.

Perhaps I should have listened to the government's Senior Panicmonger - John Ashcroft - and bought some duct tape?

Then again, I'm not sure sealing a gaseous Golden Retriever would necessarily be a sensible thing to do. I mean, what if the pressure builds up and and he blows?

It'd be a weapon of mass dogstruction.