Ahh, the oft-recounted story of sock mountain...
A mate of mine moved in 'for a couple of weeks while he sorted himself out'.

This was lies, and not something I'd have minded when he was still here some four months later.

But the mountain.

Jesus.

He never seemed to wash, and flat-out refused to do any washing... the pile of clothes in his room soon escalated to some 5 feet high, and began to gain the smell of a thousand year-old curries, with a slight hint of rotting sweat.

Turns out the horrible git was just picking stuff from the bottom of the pile and wearing it again, leading to body odour that would make homeless people consider him unsuitable for companionship.

I eventually took matters into my own hands when he was at work, using a shovel, a pair of marigolds and a large sack, dumping this behemoth of stink outside the back door.

The stain on the carpet remains to this day, as does a faint whiff of ungrateful git.
(ArfurDaley Must try harder., Mon 9 Apr 2007, 13:35, Reply)