Icelandic sewers
A friend of mine spent three months working in the sewers of Iceland's capital. This is a man who doesn't blanch at the prospect of eating braised puffin or rotting shark. But even he said it was like a whole new circle of hell to be in the main sewer of Reykjavik on a Saturday morning, dealing with the discharge of his fellow countrymen who had been out on the lash the night before. He's convinced his sense of smell and taste have never fully recovered.
( ThisCaledonianClown has left it far too late, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 15:38, 1 reply)

I sympathise with him.
In my line of work it's not uncommon to experience festering stenches that can be tasted for hours afterwards.
A waste skip brim full of rotting corpses in the height of summer for example, leaves an interesting tangy, iron like taste in the mouth after just a minute of exposure.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 15:50, closed)

Um...
What is your line of work? How does it involve dealing with skipfuls of corpses?
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Sun 5 Feb 2012, 17:45, closed)

I'm a serial killer.
Nah, pig farmer. Can be the same thing at times.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Mon 6 Feb 2012, 2:14, closed)