GFR has covered a couple of Colin Furze’s inventions, like the automatic Wolverine claws, Magneto boots, and flamethrower. Up until now, I’d have to say that my favorite of all of these creations is the Cake-O-Matic, which promises to elevate any birthday experience from good to utterly ridiculous. But Furze is nothing if not ambitious, and apparently he was just getting started. His latest creation will be tough to outdo: a giant flatulence machine.
Given his wacky antics, Furze says that people comment all the time that he must be a noisy fellow, and probably a pretty bad neighbor. I personally can’t think of someone I’d rather have next door—among other talents, he can probably fix absolutely anything—but I guess some people aren’t bowled over by his record-breaking runaway baby stroller. Anyway, those comments inspired him to be as loud as possible, which for him involved designing a huge, valve-less U-shape pulsejet that looks a little bit like a giant butt trumpet (you know, minus the valves). The pulsejet is a delightfully impractical invention, as most of its energy converts into noise and heat—let’s just say NASA won’t be using this as a rocket thruster anytime soon.
Fill this puppy with a little bit of gasoline or propane, grab a match, and the ignition creates pressure waves that pulse inside of the tubes from both directions, and when they come out of the engine they produce something akin to a monstrous fart.
Even though this kind of engine is better at making noise than propelling anything larger than sound waves, Furze’s invention has a place in history, too—in World War II, Germany used similar pulsejets for their flying bombs. Just about the only thing the Nazis didn’t do, to my knowledge, was pass gas all over the Allied Powers.
After Furze built that part, all he had to do was design a “massive bum,” which is approximately 16 feet high. He brought the contraption to the White Cliffs of Dover where he pointed it across the water toward France, promising the Frenchies that he would “fart in [their] general direction.” He ignited the fuel and delivered a massive butt yodel southward. Insert your favorite cheese-cutting joke here—you know, for the French.
He then placed a few phone calls, and ostensibly confirmed that people heard a “muffled mumbling” on the other side, but other than that there’s no direct evidence that Furze’s fart made it to its destination. But it’s the thought that counts, right?