over the moon
An old flatmate used to keep her used tampons in a carrier bag hung on the bathroom door "because that's what they do in India".

They were there for several months, until my other female flatmate cried and threw them in the bin. (Don't know why she waited that long, the lazy cow).

She (the tampon-hoarder) claimed she did it to preserve the planet, but we know now that fashionable girls use a moon cup. Just the very gift!

www.mooncup.co.uk/index.html
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:42, Reply)

Dodgy boss
At the place where I used to work the sales director, Colin, had some nasty habits. He always had really dirty fingernails. A colleague found out why when she went to a trade show with him. I can remember the horrified look on her face as she told me:

"He was on the stand talking to a customer with his hand down the back of his trousers and his finger wound so far up his arse he was standing on one leg."
( Safetyfox, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:37, Reply)

In response to "Where did he touch you" previously, mingers at college
First I suppose is me. The college I am incarcerated in is boarding. Therefore we have kitchens, with fridges, for our own food. Usually, we are pretty honest, but occasionally some arse nicks food. On one occasion, they nicked my highly labelled milk. Now, I like tea a lot, and no milk makes me very cross. So to get this twat back, I bought some more milk and labelled it. Used half, then cracked one off in it. Next day, find someone has drunk the lot. Emailed round college pointing this out. The theiving stopped.

Other mingers: Dan, who cut open his hand. Couldn't get it wet. Didn't wash for weeks.
Mike, who went crazy and did similar. Was also a fat bastard, so it was worse.
( Greenbat, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:27, Reply)

The Oundle Hag
Ah, memories are resurfacing. Some which were better left undisturbed in the sediment of my mind...

The Oundle Hag is/was (don't know if she's still alive, this was while I was at school) this crazy old woman called Irene who wandered around Oundle (small market town in Northants).

She was a nutcase who'd try to carry everything she owned in the pockets of a padded coat she always wore, whatever the weather. Despite the fact that she was reputedly quite well off and had a perfectly nice house in which to keep her belongings.

She never washed; her thin, lank hair was plastered to her skull with the grease of years. I think she wore all the clothes she owned all the time, so the sweat had made its way from the inner layer to the very outside over a number of years. And she used to wander into the newsagents in the centre of town, try to steal stuff, and shout abuse at anyone in her path.

Frequently, she would piss herself in the middle of the biscuits aisle, and then shuffle out of the shop with a delighted grin on her face, cackling smugly to herself.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:14, Reply)

All of b3ta.com/talk
know about my skanky housemate.

Just last weekend I spent two hours cleaning the projectile vomit that had "gathered" all over the landing and bathroom overnight. I was almost impressed by the fact that it went from the floor to the ceiling and everywhere in between.
A mean feat.


(yes, I know, but the cunt would've just left it if I hadn't cleaned it up)
If I was to list all the things he does that go beyond filth, I would be here all day
( Hankster, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:13, Reply)

France.
...
(abignumber, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:58, Reply)

It seems much expected at University
I am currently living off campus with a couple who have some... bizarre habits. Their cleanliness is ok, but he put on deodorant before work which stinks the whole house out. Think nasal rapeing granny perfume but an old man version on a 22 year old. Also, they put toothpaste on each others toothbrushes ready for when they finished breakfast. One day when the male counterpart forgot the brush his teeth, the toothbrush (with the paste on) was neatly stored away for the next day.

I could go on forever about them, but it would not be entirely on topic. Instead, I will recall the tale of Big Nick or Uggman.

Last year in halls there was a mountain of a chap called Nick. He wasn't fat, but 6'4" rugby player with a large brow and definite caveman features. Most of the time he couldn't be bothered to walk the 5 meters to the toilet to piss so he would go in the sink. But like and sloshed bloke the floor:hole ratio was very poor. The smell of piss once caused another housemate to be sick, after trying to go in again, he was sick again.
He also decided not to wash his clothes. He went 6 weeks in the same outfit, the t-shirt he wore was another housemates and was far too small for him. Over the xmas holiday he decided yo leave all his clothes in water in the halls bath. It grew mould and was all disposed off.
(fluffytail, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:55, Reply)

I ejaculated into the milk
and no one will ever know!
(abignumber, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:52, Reply)

My sister used to work on the ambulances,
not the paramedics - just the minibus type that run people to & from hospital.

Some of the patients used to hum a bit. The worst was the local town crier, who dressed in one set of cod-mediaeval clobber all year round and had long, lank, filthy hair under his authentically greasy tricorne hat.

His personal hygiene was also stuck in the Dark Ages and he stank, especially when he got a leg ulcer which went gangrenous.

Gangrene smells, if you didn't know, just like dogshit, only more offensive. JUST what you want in a crowded minibus on a winter's day, with all the windows tightly shut, the morning after a heavy night's beerage.

When the leg inevitably came off, and the dogshit smell went, and Sis and the crew only had a rank 20-stone one-legged stinker to manually lug around, they breathed a sigh of relief.

Only a very shallow sigh, though.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:38, Reply)

PJM...
...you're definitely right. I get off the train at Chelmsford but have been known, after a few cheeky beers, to not be awake at this point of the journey. If nothing else wakes me then the stench in Witham sure as hell does.

No idea what it is there that causes it...
( dan j what the buggery bollocks is this?, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:25, Reply)

"Does my breath look green to you?"
There was this kid in school called Alex Hayes. He was THE ugliest looking beggar you have ever seen. He was spotty, greasy, smelled horrendus, had braces, the worst breath you could imagine, etc. The perfect bullying target.

Some of his memorable quotes include:

"Boys, can you see yellow in my braces? It's cause I had a curry last night and didn't brush my teeth"

"No, Im not having a shower after games, I had one last week"

"Does my breath look green to you?"

"Is my hair supposed to have bits in it?"

Needless to say, we all stayed away from him, but he used to follow us round.

One day he got in a locker (who knows why), so we tipped it so the door was against the floor..... right before we went to lessons. During lunch we decided to get him out, and while we were doing it, a teacher came in and asked us why we making sculptures with the furniture... teacher went, we let Alex out, and he legged it, only for us to see a puddle of foul smelling water left behind.......
(DanS like you've never DanSed before!, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:24, Reply)

toothpaste
i used to share a nice flat with young metrosexual asian guy...the guy had been adopted by a posh family when he was a kid, so he always looked very well dressed and well mannered...

except his hygiene was just inexistant: he'd wear the same white shirt everytime he would go out clubbing..just covering the sweat marks (dark lines) on the collar by applying white toothpaste..WTF
( olivier8 (euroloon), Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:20, Reply)

The Great Stench...
The funkiest person I know? One of my best friends.

Day is a rather strange person in many ways- somewhere between a mad artist and an equally deranged computer geek. Physically he’s tall and thin, and looks like a blend between Jim Morrison and Tom Waits with curly brown hair that he usually braids, because loose it’s below his shoulder blades- he would make an excellent model, and by all rights should have practically every woman in town chasing him. He makes his living doing masonry work and tree removal, completely hand-to-mouth, on no regular schedule. When he’s not working, he’s typically either in front of his underground server or messing around with someone’s computer to try to resolve their glitches. He’s also one of the most brilliant sculptors I’ve ever met, and is several quantum levels of intelligence above me- he’s a master chess player, can tell you a lot about anything from art history to Norse mythology to some of the more obscure classical literature, and can tell you off the top of his head where to find just about anything you need to find online.

And he’s borderline barking mad.

I think it’s something about having such a high IQ- ever notice how really brilliant people are eccentric or have some other mental instability? (Think of Van Gogh, Charlie Parker, Syd Barrett…) Day is almost invariably cheerful, somewhat manic, and appears to exist on a diet of Doritos, pizza, Ben & Jerry’s, Camel Lights and Diet Coke. He also sometimes drinks a fair amount, and almost always has weed, but I can never tell when he's stoned or when he's straight. (Ever seen Mystery Men? Remember Tom Waits's character, the mad inventor? I swear they modeled him on Day, because he even sounds like that.) His dog Degas accompanies him everywhere- a shepherd/husky mix who’s about the sweetest dog you could ever meet, and is loaded with fleas. His basement apartment has windows that he has covered, so it’s perpetual twilight in there, and is an indescribable scene of devastation and filth.

And he never bathes.

I’m really not quite sure why that is- he has a fully functional shower and there’s a washer and dryer in the other half of the basement where his apartment is- but he has a very unique odor, composed of sweat, dog, cigarettes, weed and something unidentifiable that should stay that way. His funk is bad enough that if I give him a ride the car has a lingering stench for about three days. He once got banned from a cell phone store because of it. He left a coat in my car, and when I found it I had to run it through the wash twice- I couldn’t leave it in my car, and wouldn’t bring it into my house. I flatly refuse to describe what the laundry room smelled like, or what the residue in the washer resembled. He attended an art show where I was doing a reading and my girlfriend had some paintings which was being held in a building with open doors and windows- and the main feedback I heard was how terrible the place smelled while he was there. He is detectable downtown from two blocks away if the wind is just right.

Despite all of this, though, he’s still a very good friend, someone who has been there for me in my worst times and will instantly drop everything to help if I have a crisis. At one point he literally saved my life- I was contemplating ramming a bridge abutment with my car until he happened to meet up with me, and within the hour he had me laughing again. And so I count this cracked genius with his horrendous stench among the best people I know in this world, and will never turn away from him.

Although I have to admit, there are times when I’m tempted to ambush him with a hose and a bottle of Chlorox…

Length? Girth? A Jedi craves not these things…
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:18, Reply)

Le Castel
Marcus Medley (a ginger) failed to wash the day before he went to a conference in France. The smelly little runt was even rude enough to travel with 'the boss'. What a bastard ladies and gentlemen.
(Neostenine's maker, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:12, Reply)

Work colleague........
We have someone who works in our office who has a drink problem that seems to have a cumulative effect on him.

During the week he'll go and have a few pints - he can drink, ex-rugby player who is about 22 stones, he never seems drunk during the first couple of the days of the week, but as the week progresses, normally by friday when he comes to work, he's a pissed as the proverbial newt.

One of the worse aspects of his cumulative pissedness is that he loses bladder control, and has often had accidents leaving a nasty horrible wet patch, noticable to all.

His chair - now there's the skanky bit, it's an old grey padded chair - with, you guessed it, a yellow tidemark where it soaks up the residual piss.

Every monday, the tidemark get's higher due to the previous fridays' accidents, and one of the funniest laughs - it's an office, we're big kids when we get there - is when some unsuspecting soul forgets about it, and sits down on it.............

Sorry for length, but it would take a good 30 minutes of anyone else's time at the urinal for all that's been soaked into the chair.
(moriarty, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:12, Reply)

Two out of three aint bad
Meatloaf once sang:

Now don't be sad (don't be sad 'cause)
'Cause two out of three ai-ain't bad

Not in my experience, that experience being visiting the Cornerhouse pub in Brum city centre where a large, long haired barmaid, approximately mid 20's (looks a bit like Meatloaf actually) stinks to high heaven of BO has been working there on two out of the three visits I've made.

I don't like those odds so I won't be going again.

This woman seriously stinks (or ronks as we say in my neck of the woods) she has by my estimate, about a 3m radius of thick, putrid, ingrained malodorous stench that lingers where she has waddled. It makes your freshly poured pint of real ale turn faster than Wonder Woman getting changed.

To sum up, a pub to avoid.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:09, Reply)

Simple Simon
I have afriend, Simple Simon (he was once nearly hynoptised watching K-Pax). Brief story, this fetid individual went hiking inSctland for the best part of 9 days. SLeeping in tents or some silly craziness like that, avoiding all forms of soap like a white man with dreadlocks. After this 9 day hike he had the audacity to catch a plane back to England...without finding a shower first...and purposfully sitting next to a stranger. The poor bastard had to put up with him for over an hour. He smelt so bad, when he got home we practically picked the fecker up and threw him clothed into the shower. What a bastard, Simple Simon.
(Neostenine's maker, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:02, Reply)

also
an ex of mine used to make her own sanitary towels instead of buy proper ones. (odd relationship with foster parents.. very odd indeed)

in fact they might actually have been nappies.

not really offensive, just not what you want to see from an eighteen year old you're trying to get into the knickers of.
(magictorch, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:01, Reply)

Witham
Ugh, Silverlink must be bad but in the heart of Essex lies the lovely town of Witham. Even with my Ipod playing and my eyes closed I know when I'm going through the place, it stinks.

I don't know what it is about the town, but even driving past it on the A12 causes one's nose to wrinkle.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 23 Mar 2007, 16:00, Reply)

Frenchies
Where I was before we had this, for want of better words, strapping lass from France. As if a grotesquely bloated corpus was not a sufficient curse alongside being french, she was also a minger beyond any 10 to 2 I have ever seen. Alarmingly she had a boyfriend. Well an approximation. This fella was a walking string of piss, appeared to be impervious to all conversation and pleasantries, and worst of all any cleansing product. This man was genuinely the worst smelling individual I have ever shared 5 minutes in a room with. In the 12 months she worked at ours he came most every day, and judging by the occasional drop off in stench he washed about 4 times. 12 months and 4 baths! He smelt so bad most days that as he came into a room you HAD to leave. There was no question of staying and enduring. I used to have lunch in my boss' office. When questioned I merely said 'Meh, get the cnut to wash and I'll leave you alone'.
(Neostenine's maker, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:59, Reply)

loot the free ad paper
i am reliably informed that in the kilburn office ladies on the second floor, person unknown used to squat on the toilet seat and poo rather than sit on the actual seat itself.

and regularly miss.

the cluprit remains.. anonymous..
(magictorch, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:57, Reply)

Re Silverlink
yes, yes!!! I totally know what you are saying. The vast majority of Silverlink train users are definitely not friends with Mr Soap, unless the soap they use is "eau de cheese and onion"
(angelica666, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:56, Reply)

Silverlink
If any b3tards ever frequent the Silverlink Trains service from Watford Junction to Euston they might be familiar with the geographical olfactory phenomenon that happens at Wembley Central: people who board or leave the train there SMELL. Usually it's either garlic or garam masala that they smell of, which isn't too bad. But a few weeks ago this middle aged black guy wearing denim dungarees got on, and my God, the smell was so offensive I wanted to cry. I've got a pretty high tolerance for BO thanks to having an uncle who only washes once a week...judging by the comparison between my uncle and this guy he must have not washed for at least three months.

And then he stood next to me.

It was horrific.

The train was too crowded for me to have moved.

Half an hour later, we finally pulled into Euston. In my haste to get onto the platform and fill my lungs with fresh air, I stumbled face first into his armpit.

I am genuinely traumatised.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:52, Reply)

The Castle pub in Farringdon
Kinda relevant...... I was in the above named pub a few months back having a few drinkies after work. It was v early in the eveing so everyone in the pub was pretty sober. On visiting the ladies lavs, my nose was assualted by the most unholy of stinks. Then my eyes were assualted by the most unholy view - a shit splattered toilet. And when I say splattered I mean SERIOUSLY splattered. All over the place. Covered the toilet, up the walls, all over the floor. I had to double check I'd not wandered into the gents by mistake, but no, it was the girly bog. Now what kind of woman would do that? Obviously someone with dubious hygiene skills......but why didn't anyone notice a shit-covered person walking back through the bar? Dirty, dirty bastard
(angelica666, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:47, Reply)

adrian addendum
my conscience dictates i must take some heat off adrian, the crusty that made my sofa smell.

(if only because, when heated he would smell of landfill... rotting nanas and such)

he was really only one part of the issue. extreme laziness on the part of the other tenants featured heavilly in turning 'newton road' into a total hole. I must hold my hands and accept joint shame.

the toilet.
someone flushed a bog roll down it at a party. hahaha very funny. flatmate with no sense of smell put his arm around the blocked u bend to retrive the wad of piss and puke enlarged tissue. wouldnt have been so bad, but we didnt get told until an hour after the roll was flushed. killed the carpet.

the living room.
due to a day that consisted of star trek deep space nine, skunk, occasionally college or some agency work to fund previously mentioned skunk, it was inevitable that the communal living space with stinky sofa should become neglected regards cleaning. we realised something would have to be done when one night two of us waded thru the detritus to bed.

waded.

tesco value lager cans, malteaser wrappers, upturned ash trays, pot noodles old and new - uneaten and regurgitated all added to camoflage the carpet. im still not sure what colour it was.

the kitchen

the washing up was left for a year. a whole calendar year. when i moved out i took my pots and such and cleaned them with a high pressure hose in my girlfriends garden.

rancid.

good to test the limits of human endurance occasionally.

(this is also the house that gave me a long lasting impression that gay men never wash, have awful body odour and bad teeth. now i realise it was just blowers. i think he was only pretending for attention anyway.)

length. i leved there for far too long. just plain rancid
(magictorch, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:44, Reply)

Gunge
I must admit to experiencing some personal hygiene indiscretions in the past.

My old steel-toe workboots used to hum quite effectively but not as well as my workmates'. He used to come home from work and take his boots off and, honestly, the smell of ammonia was enough to make your eyes water.

I had to sit on a four-hour bus journey stinking like a high-street takeaway after farting and accidentally squitting on a platform at Euston. Particularly nasty, that one.

And a rather plump friend of mine at school used to perpetually smell like Marmite. *shrugs*
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:43, Reply)

My father lives in his own filth
and my brother is taking after him.

They live by these rules:

Plates with the remnants of food are left, not only unwashed, but untouched, for a minimum of two weeks.

If the bin is full, pile rubbish ontop until it's overflowing. Then just pile shit *around* the bin.

Don't EVER open a window to let the smell of stale smoke out.

If you spill a drink, the carpet is absorbent for a reason.

Fucking gross.
( Bats, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:39, Reply)

Matty
My old housemate was quite the punk-rock type; regular washing of body and clothing was as unthinkable as getting a job in the corporate world(though judging from some of these stories, he'd have fit in nicely!). He also drank a lot and worked in a Mexican restaurant. The combination of this and his lack of familiarity with soap and water resulted in his own personal eau de stale, cheap beer and corn chips.

I'll spare you the descriptions of warm beer breakfasts, blue jeans so filthy they looked black and the cat urine-stained mattress he slept on and let this one shining detail stand on its own:

He could stick his socks onto our plaster walls. I do mean stick. Press it on, and there it would stay.

After kicking him out, we went in to his former room masked and gloved, stuffed everything into a bin bag and chucked it.
The horrors we saw. . .the horrors.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:38, Reply)

Singing in the sick...
This fat mole/wart faced street singing man used to frequent MVC where I used to work. He always smelt of sick to the point where we used to battle to get out of the till area to pretend to restock before this fucker got to paying for his stuff. He came in once with a nice suit on except there was a bib O sick down the front - weirdly enough this guy spent £65,000 in two years on CDs and DVDs... As for me - Im not sure if I smell, my mum and dad tell me I smell like cat piss...
(obesevegan wont pay for b3ta credit crunch etc excuse, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:31, Reply)

Not my towel.
One friend was living with a couple of other guys, and not getting along very well with them. Sick of buying all the toilet paper, he left a note by the toilet to let the others know (for they were communicating only in terse notes by that stage), which resulted in the following exchange:

"I'm not buying any more toilet paper. Buy your own."
"I've wiped my arse on your towel."
"That wasn't my towel."

You can imagine the third flatmates reaction upon discovering his shit-smeared towel and accompanying note.
(teff, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 15:24, Reply)