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This is a question No Self-Awareness

I had a boss who had no idea of his body odour problem, and everybody was too tactful to break it to him. Not so a visiting Rev Ian Paisley: "What the blazes is that smell? Is it you?" That sorted it. Stories of people blissfully unaware of their bad smells, bad manners and foghorn voices.

Suggested by Ding Dong Montily on High

(, Thu 29 Nov 2012, 13:31)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Who is this man? Don't ask me, I don't know.

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 11:29, Reply)
What are these? Don't ask me, I don't know.

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 11:06, Reply)
Who is this man? Don't ask me, I don't know.

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 11:03, Reply)

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 10:55, Reply)

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 10:35, 8 replies)
I don't understand plate tectonics.

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 10:20, 2 replies)
There was a bad man in my bedroom so I smashed him in the face but his face went all splintery and cut my forehead and then my mummy came in and put a towel over my cage and gave me some trill and then we had some hunny the end.

(, Sun 2 Dec 2012, 9:56, 5 replies)
Nasal Assault.
Thanks Smashy for reminding me. This maybe a pearoast (as such) but as search is fucked I can't be arsed trawling thru pages of my old crap to look for it.

A couple of years ago...
I drop the missus and bairn at the shops as I have a few errands to run. As I drop them off I notice an old lady sitting at the cab rank near the the entrance to the shopping centre.
3 quarters of an hour later I return and as I'm loading the shopping and family into the car I notice the old lady still sitting there with her trolley of stuff. Cue the need for alarm bells.
I decide to be a good Samaritan and offer her a lift. She accepts and sits down in the front passenger seat. As I'm loading her shopping in the back I notice the missus has auto wound down all the windows in the car. Fully.
I am about to enquire why as I sit in the drivers seat when the stench attacks my nostrils. I still cannot really find the right words to describe it. Imagine the worst faeces and urine smell you can, now imagine that mixture having been aged over several weeks (it was definitely not fresh) and slowly rotting. That's just what the seat smelt like after she had left the car. The closest smell I can relate it to is diosma which is know universally now amongst family and friends as "Old Lady Piss Bush".

Thankfully her house was literally around a couple of corners. During the brief trip there were lots of furtive glimpses between my wife & I in the rear-view mirror trying not to laugh and both of us praying that our 5 yo. daughter wouldn't ask loudly "What's that horrible smell?".
I helped her unload her shopping and made sure she was ok. Apparently her husband was at the doctors - hopefully getting his nose cauterised! Her house was quite quaint and neat and tidy. Her clothes looked clean and her nails were very well manicured. But as I said - the smell was not fresh. She was polite and thanked me, I told her that I'd seen her waiting for a cab for such a long time and just thought I could help. Smart fucking cabbies, eh?
The smell lingered in the front passenger seat for a long time. We tried many things - nilodor, lavender oil, bicarb, carpet shampoo you name it, nothing abated the reek. Pity the poor bastards that bought the car after we'd traded it in.

EDIT: Maybe SM was on to something. After a full on day at work I am often quite sweaty and surely a bit woofy under the pits, particularly if I've been working in the garden or stressing & straining with some plumbing. When I'm particularly grubby I do get told by my daughter to remember bathe after I've picked her up from school since I do look and smell like something the dog dragged home.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 23:30, 4 replies)
When the first
smart phones hit the market, I rushed out and bought the latest one from Sony - It was shit and ran on Symbian (remember that?)instead of Android or Mac/MS OS.

I should have looked into it more, but I just assumed that, because it was a smart phone, it would be ok.

I have no cell phone wariness.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 22:19, 2 replies)

Way back under the Thatcher regime i had the misfortune of being on a "scheme" ,basically a shelter set up to shelter the unemployable, massage the dole figures and milk cash out of the tax payer. As you can imagine. it attracted an eclectic mix of people, and as i took cover on it for quite at time met a lot of them. One was notable above others as she had the power to clear the building at precisely ten o'clock every day.
She was called a rather sweet name of a bird of prey and from gypsy stock she lived with her gnome like brother in a big council house. Both had a rather ripe body odor. Both displayed the sort of wide eyed innocence that let them get away with murder, but i really think neither really understood what the world wanted or required of them to fit in. They complained of the water not working at home and the scheme supervisor arranged for the council to go round to fix it. They found all the floor boards and doors had disappeared,burnt on the fire. "we were cold" was the innocent reaction when quizzed. they got new floor boards and doors which they steadily worked their way through the next winter. The water had not so much stopped flowing as become unreachable when the stairs got burnt, so access to the upstairs loo became impossible. And that lead to the ten o'clock "happening" at the schemes center. She was about 55 and unable to read or write she attended every day and at ten she would excuse herself and retire to the loo...it only took one ten o'clock experience to make you evacuate the room as the incredible stench meandered out the door and round the room. God knows what they eat but maggoty roadkill pan fried in sweat and sewage was a guess...Any one who has ever replaced a toilet pan will remember the feeling that you have opened the gates of sewage hell well multiply that by ten.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 21:18, 1 reply)
oh my, the smell.....
there is a woman i know who, for various reasons, i will not name. let us overlook the fact that her stomach is so large that it hangs down around her like a fleshy skirt. let us forget that she has taken filing compensation claims to the level of a hobby. these things just make her unpleasant.
no, the thing she seems to have no awareness of is her smell. this woman could give foul ole ron a run for his money. i've never seen her knowingly wash and, even on a good day, her aroma is that of rancid burgers. on a bad day, there are simply no words to describe what she smells like. being within 10 feet of her triggers the most resilient gag reflex. curiously, the worse she smells, the less people want to point it out, even the people she works with would rather invent convoluted means of avoiding her than simply say "you smell, go away."
she is currently trying to sell her house. i doubt it will go well. she is inviting people to view a home that smells as if someone has been boiling a large dog in its own sweat and vomit. even family members don't want to be there.
that's all i can say, i'm making myself feel a bit ill here.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 16:11, 11 replies)
I do think it a shame.
I would love to live in a world where AI got to the stage that Nintendo could release a Turing-test demolishing console.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 15:59, Reply)
We Gooners recognise it as a noun; a state of being exhibited by our team since '05
No silverware-ness
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 12:58, 1 reply)
I work for a further education provider in one of London’s less salubrious postcodes. In order to get to us, you must first walk though a library. Unlike many libraries this one is well used by the local populace. Unfortunately this also means it is frequented by nuisance types - drunks, petty criminals, teenage hood-rats and their ilk. The library staff have to deal with a fair amount of grief from these arseholes but it’s probably the site-staff, who are a cross between security guard, porter, caretaker and general dogs-body, who take the brunt of the abuse.

Anyway, one of the site staff, whom we will call Clive, spots a young lady walking into the library talking in a loud voice on her mobile phone. That’s right, not walking ‘out’ of the library having just answered a call but walking into the library already speaking on her phone.

“Excuse me madam, you can’t use you mobile phone in here” explains Clive firmly.

The young ‘lady’ deliberately ignores him and carries on walking. Clive gives chase and confronts her in a somewhat more robust fashion.

Enter yours truly - I had just finished a long and tiring day of teaching and was just about to take a well earned break when I was approached by one of the other teachers and asked to mediate between an understandably miffed ‘Clive’ and the young ‘lady’ in questions who was clearly of the ‘talk to the hand’/ ‘am I bovered’ generation and regretably one of our students.

Anyway a certain amount of back and forth conversation takes place as I try to understand what has happened. It appears that Viki Pollard’s sister has taken umbrage and is now accusing Clive of “disrespecting” her and is threatening to make a complaint. It’s at this point that I start to lose me legendry cool.

Her: “He disrespected me. He was rude. He pointed at me”

Me: “Madam, you understand that this is a library. which is supposed to be a place of quiet contemplation. That one of the rules of a library is that you can’t use your mobile phone. In fact one of the reasons people come here is so they don’t have to listen to people on their mobile phones.”

Her: ”Yeah, I know that now. He disrespected me. He was really rude”

Me: “Sorry. No. HE did not disrespect YOU. HE was doing his JOB. YOU were the one not showing any RESPECT. YOU were the one being RUDE. ”

Her: “Yeah, but he…”

Me: “In fact, by using YOUR PHONE in the library, not only were you being RUDE to the site staff. YOU were in fact DISRESPECTING EVERY OTHER LIBRARY USER. IT IS YOU WHO ARE RUDE. IT IS YOU THAT IS NOT SHOWING ANY RESPECT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

Her: “Yeah, well, but…”

Anyway, I was probably foaming at the mouth at the point and she left the building looking somewhat cowed. She dropped out of her course a few days later. On the plus side, I received major kudos from the site staff for standing up to her and telling her like it is.

The most disturbing aspect of this tale is that she was on the phone to her daughter’s school. It’s depressing to think that this individual will be responsible for instilling a value system and shaping the mind of a young child. Perhaps she learned something from the encounter, but I very much doubt it.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 12:13, 80 replies)
We have these sort of padded benches in the atrium at work
generally known as "the airport lounge". One day, a guy in a suit is taking a call on his mobile and has his eyes closed. Presumably forgetting where he is, he stretches out on his back, taking up the full length of the bench.

Everyone who passes stares. Two of the Bangalore contractors actually go halfway up the stairs to get a better shot with their cameraphones.

The other problem with those benches is that you get a right eyeful of arse antlers and whale tails when a group of slightly overweight girls use them; they tend to encourage slouching forwards. They don't appear to notice that their kidneys are getting cold.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 10:25, 7 replies)
Dozy chav girls.
The other week I was in town picking some shopping up. Being the run up to christmas it's quite busy and I had to park on one of the upper levels of the muti-storey. Heading back to the car with bags of shopping plus a very heavy flatpack table I had to take the stairs (2 slow lifts and loads of people waiting for them).

First few flights were ok, I then round the corner ready for the next set. Narrow stairs, everyone else goes single file and politely moves out of the way or waits for others. 3 chav monsters coming in the opposite direction all next to each other, typical plastered on make-up with rollers in hair, ugg boots and listening to "music" music on their phone. I start to ascend, they see me but instead of waiting at the top they come down making no attempt to move into single file. On of the basically barged me out of the way, nearly lost my balance and I'm struggling like hell with the table. I scowl at her and mutter "for god's sake" under my breath. Cue torrent of abuse from all three of them, I heard some new words that day. Older couple behind them stood there, mouths agape at such charming behaviour from these fine upstanding pillars of our society.

I fucking hate chavs. You don't need to apply make-up with a trowel. You look stupid in Ugg boots. Take your rollers out before going shopping and for that matter pyjamas are NOT acceptable clothing to go shopping in. Start listening to some decent music and if you must listen in public for fuck's sake buy some headphones - Poundland sell them.

(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 9:49, 13 replies)
Don't know about "self awareness"
but this guy doesn't seem to have much "people who the trolls like to try and pick on at /qotw" awareness.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 4:51, 13 replies)
I work at a small software engineering company over in Glasgow, so as you can imagine, none of us exactly have a strong reputation for hygiene or pleasant body odour. Nonetheless, we all got on pretty well (including the boss/owner) and have something of an in-office banter; upon the emission of arse-fumes we would attempt to estimate how much garlic/baked beans/strong Belgian beer had been consumed the night before by the guilty party. I myself was not the recipient of many successful guesses due to my passion for cooking original food with unpredictable quantities of garlic, onion, beans and lentils.

Anyway, one unfortunate day "Sam" (not going to out the sorry bastard) caught a stroke - probably due to his horrific diet - and had to be let go. Blokes who could't type weren't much use. This freed up a slot that needed to be filled, so the boss put out the word and eventually we had a few applicants. None of them were spectacular, but he had to pick one (which he did ... out of a hat) and so the new guy, "Tom," arrived.

Tom was a pretty sound guy, though he did have his odd moments (including arriving to work one day with welding goggles and refusing to acknowledge their existence). The one that is particularly relevant to this QotW arose the day after the boss' birthday bash this past summer. Whilst everyone else was nursing their hangovers of varying strengths, Tom got on all fours and started moving from desk to desk staring up into each person's slightly confused face. Eventually he got round to the boss and proceeded to get very, very close. With astonishing speed he appeared to be trying to jam his fingers right up the boss' nostrils. Just as quickly, and to the surprise of pretty much everyone around, he pulled out a tiny man with a little pointy hat then screamed, running out of the room. It appeared that Tom had nose-elf awareness.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 1:53, 2 replies)
"You make a terrible woman"
I dressed up in drag for a production of 'La Cage aux Folles'. It was great gender-bender fun, but I fooled no one as to my sex. After one show, an ancient disparaging crone tottered over on her walker just to proclaim to my face "you make a terrible woman!"
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 0:04, Reply)
Gits in pubs.
It really is quite simple Ma'am.

If you want a coffee fuck off to a cafe.

Especially if you proudly state "I never carry cash" and present your debit card to pay six quid.


I much enjoyed your replies but would like to point out that I do not work behind a bar.

I'm a drunk and when a bar person sidles off to make a coffee it takes three to four times longer to serve that one coffee than pour a beer.

Also, I've no problem with setting up a tab and paying by card at the end of the session but people round here do it for every bloody round.
(, Sat 1 Dec 2012, 0:00, 6 replies)
In times past, there used to be many wonderous creatures.
From sylphs to harpies, dragons to just rulers.

Most of these faded deep in the mists of time, one race however died recently, due to being overlooked by the functionary appointed to take care of them.

It was all the fault of Noah's Elf awareness.
(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 23:48, Reply)

(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 20:46, 3 replies)
/board member Jahled.
Has absolutely no problem at all with issuing threats of physical violence online against members of /talk, but then goes running to the MODS! with threats of legal action when /talk calls him a NONCE!.
AND he forces dogs to touch his bumhole.
(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 20:08, 41 replies)
self aware?
Eerm... Skynet anyone?
(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 18:49, 2 replies)
The self-proclaimed King of QOTW.

So little self awareness, on so very many levels.

(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 18:11, 51 replies)
Barnetboy has no "no self awareness" awareness.

(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 18:10, Reply)
I can't believe what a bunch of trolls you all are.

(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 17:54, 8 replies)
Gawd bless 'er
My granny had a knack of saying things as they came into her head without stopping to think first.

She was once heard to loudly remark "Oooo hasn't that woman got an ugly dog?"

The dog owner in question was less than six feet away from her at the time and was highly offended that someone couldn't appreciate the beauty of her Cruft's Best of Breed winner.

To be fair to my granny the dog was pug ugly in all senses of the expresssion.
(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 17:17, 3 replies)
A rendering plant in Heysham and a plastics factory in Morecambe both caught fire on the same day.
As the prevailing wind blew the smoke and fumes in a west-by-northwesterly direction, it was nose hell for Furness.
(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 17:02, 4 replies)
I can never find my favourite stock cubes or washing powder.

(, Fri 30 Nov 2012, 16:53, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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