"Meh, something doesn't feel quite right down th-...ah. Um, ohgod..."
...was pretty much the exactly thought process immediately preceding one of my less heroic poses: teasing the still-twitching thorax of (half) a fucking huge orange-and-black beetle out from under my foreskin, by torchlight, in a crowd of 30,000 people dancing to Kraftwerk at Benicassim 2004. It hurt.
( grey kid is breakdancing to save a community centre, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:35, Reply)

Three of a kind
I cannae remember his name right now but the careers advisor at my secondary school (will edit if recalled - I hated him) was known as Oak Tree because you could tell how many days he'd been wearing his shirt by counting the sweat rings around his armpits.

We also had an art teacher known as Death Breath due to his repulsive halitosis - and a maths teacher called Goldfinger due to his roll-up stained digits.

Niiiiice.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:34, Reply)

Skittle man
My bloke plays skittles (yeah I know, but it means I can pluck and do various female things in peace)and on the rare occasions I have tagged along there is a guy called Tony for that is his name, who is a 84 year old RAF spitfire ace who flew concord,owns 3 motorbikes and a Peugeot 207 with a towbar and many other things.
Anyhow every week he wears the same clothes including a green jumper which has odd stains some egg, which jump from back to front each week.And he smells of wee. Badly.
In fact if you stand to close to him you can taste the smell too.
(datcat Millions of cats, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:30, Reply)

Apple mac techies
are all fat sweaty geeks, that's why Mac's never break down*





*cos people are afraid of calling out the support plebs
( Signify, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:27, Reply)

U smelly .......
About 6 years ago, just after A-levels, myself and a few friends decided to go on holiday to France for a few days. We decided (in all great knowledge.....yeah) to go by coach. Cue a fucking great long 18 hour trip to Paris. And what was worse was the smell on the coach, especially the fella sitting with his family infront of me and my mate Tom. To say he smelt is an understatement . The guy stank like he'd never even heard of the word shower let alone ever used one. So for 18 hours this smell lingered like an evil beast from the lowest order of Hell......and it got worse. This guy stands up and turns back to talk to his missus and leans over the seat hand on the chair in front.....with his stinking armpit right above my mate Tom's head! Tom, one of the nicest people in the world, has had enough. Cue the quickest, Bruce Lee-esque solution. Tom's head snaps quickly to face me an grimace on his face, his hand snaps up wards with a can of Lynx, he quickly sprays the fellas armpit and the can is hidden again. This takes less than 4 seconds. Seriously he moved like a machine, almost Matrix style in precision. And the best bit was the smelly bastard didn't even realise what had happened, he just wondered what the hissing noise was (probably never heard it before!)
(Polish bstard, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:26, Reply)

Foul, foul friend
His name was Plenty. He fucking STANK! I mean, the smell of a four week old bag of kitchen waste that has been baking in the sun being split open. He had more grease on his face than a Maccy D's fryer, filthy finger nails, rank puffy hair that snowed dandruff every time he moved. He was a foul creature.
( industrial_bunny, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:26, Reply)

actually true
my then-girlfriend described my breath as 'smelling like rotting meat - but it's very sexy, kind of like an animal.'

Also I was vegan then, so whatever it was it wasn't rotting meat.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:26, Reply)

Sorry, I have to pause now and then to keep from gagging.
My college Calc II prof wore a tie and jacket each day to class, no matter how hot it was.

One day I noticed a little white line in a cicrle around his armpit on the outside of his suitcoat. I don't know exactly how much sweat has to accumulate before you can start to see the salt, but it has to be a lot.

As the days and weeks went on, the salt line spread further and further and got thicker and thicker.

My sick mind wonders how it smelled. It wonders how it tasted. Even now, 15 years later, I can imagine the taste of salty BO fabric in my mouth. It's a compulsion; I can't stop thinking about it.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:24, Reply)

The Hair Washing Competition
Two women in my office seem to be having some weird kind of anti-hair washing competition. Every day for the past week one (Lady A) has walked past my desk area and asked the other one (Lady B) "how long has it been?" or "how's it going, is it holding up?"

Lady A is currently boasting a full 9 days but Lady B is lagging behind with a paultry 4 days.

Wash your hair, tramps! There is nothing good to be gained from grease!
(Alice The Camel is one of the soon to be extinct 1-humped variety, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:24, Reply)

Waiter
There's an Indian in Aberdeen that we go to. A LOT - I mean usually twice a week - they know us well and always produce our drinks quickly - Strangely enough, the bill ALWAYS comes to about £23...

They sometimes go for traditional attire, you know, like a big long dress (Perhaps I should have put that in the last QOTW...)

Anyhoo.

Last time, of of the waiters came over, stood next to me too, I was at an unfortunate part of my breathing cycle and had to inhale deeply.

And inhaled a lungful of the most pungent, rank, disgusting, vile, sweaty clothes smell I've smelt in a long time - I audibly coughed and retched. My fellow diners didn't notice and suggested I was making it it.

When he came back though, they all got a proper wiff as he stayed a bit longer - it was completely disgusting.

On the funny side, 3 grown men holding their breath and coughing and retching like children was really rather humurous!
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:22, Reply)

personally, i never wash my hair with any kind of shampoo.
i only use soap made of coconuts. my old teacher, on the other hand, was not only hideously ugly and skinny, she had the worst breath ever. she had a very nasty habit of coming inches from your face when asking you a question, and you could only reply with your breath held in, if you didn't want your face to melt. i'm pretty sure whe was rotting from the inside out. she also had a massive grudge against every boy in our class, and always had a troupe of girls following her, who for some reason idolised her. each and every one of those girls turned into hippies or lawyers. 'nuff said.
( Mr. Johnson, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:19, Reply)

"We weren't living together, I never brought my toothbrush"
After I got my bachelor's degree, and while waiting to get into graduate school, I spent the night at my grilfriend's apartment and didn't leave for eight months.

"Oh, no, we're not living together," I would tell people. My reasoning was that I never had my mail forwarded and I didn't bring a toothbrush.

Which meant that with a pot of coffee and 1.5 packs of cigarettes per day my teeth were a nice burnt orange color. How she could stand to kiss me I'll never know.

I paid for it later though. I'd only had a couple cavities until I was 25, but by the time I was 30 I had one in literally every tooth in my head.
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:18, Reply)

Fat old bloke at work..
.. with white shirts, bright yellow wet greasy armpit stains. Never went close enough to check how rotten he stinked.
( Signify, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:16, Reply)

The shroud
I had a housemate a few years back who never never never washed his bedlinen. When he moved out you could see the entire imprint of his body on the sheet, just like the Shroud of Turin...
(Hermioninny, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:16, Reply)

The Crusty Jumper
Working at my first law firm, aged 18, I was a quiet little mouse until Claire, who shared an equally filthy sense of humour, started.

One morning Claire came into the office in a black polo-neck jumper. As I followed her down the corridor I couldn't help but ask "What is that big white stain on the back of your jumper?" She then remembered, in horror, that her boyfriend had pulled it out of the laundry basket the previous night, wiped his cock on it and put it back. Claire, in her haste to get ready for work and with no clean clothes had obviously forgotten. Oh how we laughed.
(NJ, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:15, Reply)

soapy streams
When I were but a small child every sunday after dinner my mum, instead of letting me do small child things, used to make me go for a walk with her.
Anyway 1 of the routes we used to take involved going through the grounds of the local mental hospital which had a brook running through it.
As it was a really hot sunny day she decided to let me paddle in this brook whilst she sat dabbling her feet.
After a while we hear voices and as we look around we see a family which we shall call the Smiths as that was their name approching a little bit upstream, stop then they all start stripping off compleatly and getting in this brook.
Mum shouts at me to get out and as I do they get the soap out and start washing.
The mother, father and all 8 kids.
The water was a really nasty scummy brown colour after and im pretty sure most of it wasn't down to the fact they disturbed the bottom as it was gravel lined and stayed clear no matter how many kids used to splash around in it.
(datcat Millions of cats, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:14, Reply)

A goth bird..
..on the tube a while back smelled remarkably like a good venison pie.


/thats all/
( Signify, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:13, Reply)

Woo
One for me.

I've lots of stories about rank frenchman, colleagues, (ex) girlfriends and the like, but I'll start with me.

Thankfully I don't have a personal hygiene issue as I'm a bit anal about it - I have to be clean - not to an OCD level, but I have been known, in summer, to shower 3 times a day - in the morning, evening and if it's been a hot day at lunchtime. True story.

I don't smell - apart from if I've had a crap day - and that's only at the end of the day.

I'm glad I've vented that one....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:10, Reply)

my housemate
has kindly allowed me to stay at his home upon returning from travelling...

Unfortunately he didn't mention the mess. He didn't mention the tea bags growing in the kitchen, the plates glued together with mould and decay, the assorted variety of takeaway cartons and wrappers in various states of decay.

He didn't mention the dead pigeon in his bath or the fact that his hot water doesn't work, or the fact that he hasn't got a wheelie-bin and just throws his bin bags into a huge black pile in the garden...

He didn't mention the fact that the halloween decorations are still up from many years ago, his motorbike is in the living room (in bits), his large collection of wires in the corner of the room (all attatched to something, but so knotted and tangled that only a child with autism could figure it out)...

he didn't mention the fact that his other settee was covered in cat crap, his kitchen floor covered in chicken bones, his bathroom is beyond hellish...

I shit you not... I really shit you not...

His bedroom is covered in a hundred empty coke cans, tobacco pouches, ash and dust... lots of dust...

He eats only takeaways and microwave foods, he has no toothbrush as far as I'm aware of, he drinks nothing but double coffee's, he doesn't wash as far as I know and uses deoderant as a smell pacifier.

He still maanges to hold down two girlfriends though, so fuck knows whats going on there eh?
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:08, Reply)

an old girlfriend...
was less than brilliant on this front, but i was young and wrapped up in her so i tried to be subtle. "i'll make breakfast... you relax and have a nice shower.", "tough day.... let me run you a bath" etc etc. none of it seemed to work.

what did work was having 11 pints of lager and venting my spleen at her about it for 10 minutes*. after she started talking to me again, all was well. until she turned into a maniac some time later, but that's another QOTW


*my memory of this is somewhat hazy, but i'm told i was harsh.. if you call "fking smelly bitch" harsh...
(court escaper, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:08, Reply)

Smelly Cunt
Well, I don;t stink but was unfortunate to get jiggy with a lady of questionable character after a few beers on Friday night. All proceeding according to plan...... until I got a whiff of her minge which smelt like a trawlermans fish tanks (on the "lets ship all our dead fish stock day")

Still fucked it though - I'm not rude.
(TAZ220 Not giving a toss since, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:05, Reply)

*sob* *sob* *sob*
I sit next to a man called Jim at work. He is obese. He has a ponytail of long, greasy hair. Apart from him being a lazy tosser who spends most of his time on forums, he stinks. I mean he really fucking stinks.

He has worn the same shirt and trousers to work for 12 months now. Every day. It's gone, you know, 'bobbly'. I shudder to think of his undergarments.

A week or so ago I (cruelly but desperately) put a blob of lipgloss on the back of his chair (I am female, not gay). He sat down and said blob was transferred. A week ago.

It's still there. My 'dirty bastard test' had proven conclusive.

He smells like my boyfriend's underpants after a particularly hot and sweaty day. He smells like fetid, old, bottom-of-basket, don't-skimp-on-Persil laundry.

I have tried everything. Our manager is a 'virtual manager' (ie never in the sodding office) and she is also too embarrased to confront him. Every time he walks past me I smell satan's arse crack.

I have applied for a new job. So has Jim. In the same company. I am seriously considering pulling my application as the year long smell which permeates my nostrils has started to affect my home life (constantly doing laundry and slightly obesessively cleaning the loo) and what I eat (smell/taste..I can't eat anything 'sweaty'..yes food can be sweaty - lettuce wrapped in plastic for example)

This man is ruining my life..this man is only a foot away and smells like Johnny Vegas' armpit after a sauna. I have spent one working year inhaling his crusty, sweaty balls. Please God someone help me!!

*admits defeat, curls up and cries, munching on a tree-shaped airfreshener*
(Northern Lovely, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:02, Reply)

During the .com boom...
...my mate and I worked for a small venture owned by a twunt in Harrogate, my mate and I rarely went home, spending the nights smoking weed with the the technical director or wandering around town getting hammered.

Incidentally, we got a bit ripe over the course of 8 month or so, and it came to a point where the 6 other members of staff actually did a petition to make us bugger off home and get showered.
( BulldogUgly Visit my profile to see what's between my legs, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:01, Reply)

Febreeze
It should be called:

Febreeze 'For Men'
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:00, Reply)

"Can I borrow your deodorant?"
As I've mentioned in the past, I used to live in France. Every summer teams of twenty-somethings used to come out to do various volunteer work and enjoy the sun at the same time. Usually the teams were all UK-people, but occasionally we'd get some foreigners joining in.

One year there was a guy from the netherlands who had decided to "travel light". He had packed two shirts for the whole two weeks. Oh, and he didn't wear deodorant.

By the end of the first day, he was reeking. Thankfully he did take a shower every morning, but as the week went on, his smell of his shirts became more and more invasive. By the end of the first week, people were refusing to pair up with him, and making excuses to avoid sitting next to him at meals.

Then a miracle happened. During the weekend in between the two weeks, a lot of the team were washing their clothes. One guy had a quiet word with the smelly bloke, to suggest that he should do the same. So there was a huge sigh of relief when he joined the clothes-washing group, topless and carrying his two shirts.

Alas, no, it was not to be. He asked one of the other guys "Can I borrow your deodorant?" and proceeded to spray both shirts inside and out with Sure spray deo.

Ok, so it helped for an hour or so.

Thankfully coz I was a girl, I could avoid being paired with him :o)

F x

PS: I have had a vision of the future, I can see this thread filling with people who spell "hygiene" wrongly and people who complain about it. Click "I like this" if you agree.
(Flurble - The Innocent One, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:58, Reply)

Legless 2.0's
pseudonym in the pub is Stinky but it actually refers his living arrangements and the horrible sticky mess his flatmate has created on the sofa, the carpet, the kitchen worktop, all seats, the walls,the curtains, the ceiling etc. But thats not for me to explain.
(i anglepoise, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:56, Reply)

Ewww.
One of my old teachers from school used to absolutely reek. She was a substitute as well so no-one ever knew when to expect her.

It was a truly surreal experience sitting in one of her classes doing a crossword (Every time. Without fail.) sitting as close to the back as possible, occasionally looking up and catching a whiff of cabbages and fish coming from the gurning (100% fact) old bint sitting at the front.

School days. Best days of your life I've heard.
(I R Tomsk pyromaniacs will only inflame the situation, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:55, Reply)

Men odour
I work in an engineering firm with a load of blokes - nuff said.
( girlinthehole, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:50, Reply)

Hah
Yeah but you smell

Edit: Sorry, couldn't help it...

Ms Weasel likes trains. Not in the clutching her knees and saying "Neeee, neeeee, neeee" a lot way, but in an 'enthusiast way'. I have been taught about all the different species of 'enthusiast'* and she happens to be a 'line basher'. It's far less interesting than it sounds but seems to involve the least amount of autistic behaviour.

Anyway, due to this we recently visited the Depot Open Day at the London Transport Museum storage depot at Acton.

As soon as you walked into the (very large airy depot building) we were immediately assaulted by a wave of BO. The only place that smells worse than that is the computer fair off Tottenham Court Road on a wet Saturday morning. That's enough stereotypes for a bit.

Now you may drink your weak lemon drink...

*I prefer the term 'socially inept fuckwit' to 'enthusiast'.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:50, Reply)

woo
first

Australian summer.
Workplace with broken air conditioning.
Sitting next to the new fit austrian bird who hadn't discovered a little invention called deodorant.

Not good. Not good at all.
(Handel blah blah blah, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:48, Reply)