it's me *sob*
I'm so ashamed, but Christ. I know basically everyone says their room is messy, but mine is BAD. I can't see the floor, it's not covered with "clean" junk like clothes and such. It's all trash, basically.

Usually when I clean my room (once every several months) I have to bring in a bucket to pour all the half-consumed cans of diet soda into. Many of these have formed mysterious gelatinous lumps in them.

I've had many mishaps with rotted food. Like the bag of grapes I misplaced and found about three weeks later, and put me off wine forever. Also the near-empty orange juice bottle which was swollen from the fermentation. I foolishly tried to open it and the cap shot off and dented the wall. Every time I sit down on my floor(when it's clean) I start coughing and wheezing and my nose starts running because of the mold that's likely under the carpet.

Pretty much, I have a problem. A really bad, utterly disgusting, painful, almost crippling one. Not to mention a seriously shameful secret. I think due to my depression, general laziness and not being taught properly how to clean up after myself. It's actually a legitimate psychological problem, too. Look up compulsive hoarding. I'm getting help though, so hurray.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Sat 24 Mar 2007, 1:33, Reply)

Sort of on topic..
Which has meant most people have skipped straight past this post but hold on..

I have a step uncle. A very cool bloke, but one with the most curious practices. Works as a chef so gets up early in the morning and my room is right next to the toilet so at half four in the morning -every morning without fail- I get woken up without fail by some obsese bastard farting and blowing his nose, sounding like a pride/gaggle/collection/flock of elephants mourning the loss of one of their pride/gaggle/collection/flock in the most greatest acoustically designed cavern for such a cacophony. But anyways.....

He taught me this game (And I feel so sorry for my aunt if he has played this with her) fart underneath the bed silently and then whisper to your partner 'Shit! I hear Burglers! Hide under the blanket, quick!'. And then hold her head underneath the covers to smell the fumes. Which if they have come from an arse similar to his then, well, may Jesus/Allah/Non specific deity save you, cos no one else fucking will.
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Sat 24 Mar 2007, 0:51, Reply)

Can't beat those crazy cats!
First post, woooooo!

Anyway onto the QOTW, I am a young 'un currently as it were and have a mate, who we shall call Craig, who reeks of cat food no matter what he is wearing. For months me and the boys wondered how the hell it was possible but eventually we went up his house and found out why.

He has three cats who constantly roam about the place, maulting their fur wherever (it doesn't get washed up) and basically laying where they wished without any complaints (such as on the ironing board, in the clothes basket, on the kitchen worktop, etc.)

However the creme de la creme of it all was when he had his food. He put his plate down for a couple of seconds and left to go to the kitchen (yes they eat, watch tv, iron and use the pc in the SAME room!) for whatever reason. At this point one of his cats jumped up onto the chair where he left his meal and began to tuck in, making a bit of a mess and leaving some hair before jumping off. He returned and we watched in shock as he ate the entire meal (cat hair included) and even complimented his mother on how nice it was.

Kinda going off topic there a bit sorry, but had to make my first QOTW special.

Oh and length? [Insert joke here]
(JC_Green Lacks humour, Sat 24 Mar 2007, 0:43, Reply)

Minging tollet facilites in Liverpool Krazyhouse; bindun?
I am not sure if this has been covered yet, but has anyone ever mentioned the minging state that the krayhouse toilets ever get into.

I recall a particularly bad night there when there was a Kerrang all nighter (where night out becomes a painful endurance test as they drag out for so long. Especially when they quit serving at "x" time).

Now, the thing is, the toilets initially start out very clean. And then as the night draws on, they clog, become filled with various substances excreted from people and become very evil indeed.

The toilets actually not only ming for us blokes, but also ming for the women too. For example (other female b3tans may have done this) they run out of toilet paper. My girfriend actually goes as far as packing portions of toilet paper down her bra and shoved in her handbag (amusingly for her, mates of hers have been caught out).

Anyhow, on this particular night, the toilets for either the women or blokes are a sea of crud, and the floors are covered in an good couple of centimetres of various peoples wee. Combined with the fact that the K House yet again was roasting at a nice 32C, hot and humid with other peoples bodies with sweat running down the walls as per usual. Surely a health and safety hazard. The smell of the toilets can corrode the lungs of a person that is not accustomed to it.

Anyhow, the urinals on this night were very minging indeed. And yours truly decided to drain the lizard. Anyhow, while standing there draining away, it was a sea of wee and vom. In this particular instance, there was a trail of vom that looked as if someone had vomited up their intestinal tract.

One guy quipped to me "Oh look, there is some guys intestine in here!"

Now, I have been to the Bradford Rio, and have noticed other people complain about the state of their toilets on this post. Believe me, you Yorkshire B3tans, you ain't seen nothing until you have witnessed the krazy House toilets....
(Panteneman Isn't entirely sure why he bothered on, Sat 24 Mar 2007, 0:14, Reply)

Christ! I'm normal!
Holy crap! I thought it was only me! My ex was a dab hand (is that the right term for it?) at doing some incredibly noisy unpleasent toilets in my general vicinity. I was scarred for years after dumping him and only recently learning that it wasn't normal for boys to be unbelievably yucky in the bathroom department! Apparently it's not normal to spend half an hour in the toilet producing what can only be described as the spawn of satan when I'm the only person that does the cleaning. Oh, and he'd quite happily do it when I was in the bathroom at the time. Trying to have a relaxing bath at the time. Lovely!
( Whodathunkit, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 23:09, Reply)

"Reid! Reid!"
"Hello Michelle."

"Kiss me! I'm drunk!"

"Alright then."

Wayhey! I'd only been there five minutes. However, there was something wrong about this kiss. My tongue was pulling warning signs that all was not as it should be in the taste department.

Then she pulled away, pointed and shouted gleefully:

"I was sick over there!"

"Ah."

"AND over there!"

"...Ah."







"Can I have ano-"

"No."
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 23:01, Reply)

Lunch anyone?
Being a priest I have to put up with a lot of things my parishioners suffer with but someone who I met a while back really took the smelly biscuit.

Many years ago at college I knew someone who was a bit lacking in the brains department but was a nice enough chap. I'll call him Jason for reasons of anonymity even though his name was actually Pete Wainwright. Anyway, we occasionally took the mickey out of Jason because he didn't get any of our jokes immediately, didn't do particularly well in his classes, etc but like I said, he was a fairly decent fellow and went along with our banter with pretty good humour.

Unfortunately, what I didn't know was that Jason had a problem and it was something he could do very little about. There's a quite rare disease known as 'trimethylaminuria' which has the rather unpleasent symptom that the sufferer smells of fish. See www.sciencenews.org/pages/sn_arc99/5_15_99/bob2.htm for more details.

So when I decided to sit next to him for lunch one day and said, "What the fuck have you got in those skanky sandwiches? It smells like fish shit!", it didn't go down well. He didn't really talk to me afterwards.

Sorry Pete.
( Fr_Jerry_McGwier looked over both shoulders at, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 22:44, Reply)

a Vicar, his car and some dogs
Mr Bardwell was one of the small puny miserable fucked up looking vicars that you see, you know the ones whos chins rest on their chest. Unfortunately he stank to high fucking heaven. He must be the first man to get to heaven first with out being dead. I used to work in a garage and he would come in. He had an estate car with 4 or 5 small dogs running havoc in it. We jacked it up once and dog piss run out of the lower end. We used to make this one guy work on it as he lost his sense of smell in a bike accident. I made the mistake of admitting to him i knew about car radios. "Can you look at mine"
I lasted about 8 seconds in the shit pit that was his car. I ripped the old sterio out (remember the ones with the huge flat pegs you pushed to get the station?). I ripped it out, gave it to him and said theres your problem, its fucked, and walked off.
Any mechanic will know that tools are expensive. We used to chuck the new lads snapons in the car!
We got fed up of the stinky fucker. He came in one day complaining of handbrake blah blah, so we said it would cost about £150 to fix. He rightly said it sounded to expensive, can we recomment somewhere else? Sure! 10 mins later the mechanic from accross the road comes roaring in swearing about this manky vicar being recommended to him.

Ahh, we laughed.

I was at a party some years later and was recanting this smelly tale, when the bloke i was talking to said "that was my uncle" after an embarrising pause, he added "he was a stinky cunt tho!"
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 21:59, Reply)

My ex
Had one pair of jeans which he lived in (sometimes sleeping in them), after many months of him not washing them they were actaully turning green so I washed them while he was asleep - he wasn't very impressed by this for some reason. He also went several months without brushing his teeth once (I assumed that I just hadn't seen him brushing his teeth) and then told me like it wasn't something to be ashamed of. He also told me that when he was still at school he went several months without showering.
One time I stayed over and noticed some crustiness in the sheets - it turned out that many days earlier he got drunk and puked in his bed - AND LEFT IT THERE!!!!!! Needless to say I got straight in the shower and demanded that he changed the sheets while I was washing.
Why did I go out with him I hear you asking? It probably helped that I have a very limited sense of smell and that he was very good in bed (did I mention the lovely bacterial infection that I got from him not showering too often?).

No apologies for length - it's about the only thing that he didn't need to be ashamed about!
(mmm....beer, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 20:40, Reply)

Work stinks.
At the factory I work we've had some pretty foul smelling people over the years but none as bad as a man I shall call "Blossom".

Blossom had BO, not the kind you get over the course of a day, it smelt more like he'd spent a month in the same shirt without showering.

When he walked past it was like a green mist followed him, one woman put her hand to her mouth and nearly threw up.

I recall him bending behind someones chair to tidy up and the bloke in it sitting bolt upright, sniffing and shouting "WHAT THE **** IS THAT????" not realising Blossom was there.

Also a Polish lady told me that she had spent all day with him as his trainer and not only did he stink but he kept farting as well and pretending it wasn't him. Rather her than me.
(chakaflange, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 20:34, Reply)

going back nearly 10 years...
There's that one time I kept nudging my friend in the middle of an RE lesson to poke fun at the boy on my left and his absolutely atrocious bad breath, which literally smelt of day old dog poo... and then the realisation 30 minutes later in a different class, sat in a different place, with different people around me, that the same smell was still there... a quick cup to the hand and the mystery was solved...

And the time during my GCSE days when I had a puffa jacket (god knows why), and each time I slung it on, there was a woosh of BO overpowering me (a backdraft if you will)... a bit of craning the neck identified the source of that one...
( johnsto, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 20:25, Reply)

A top tip
Even though my sense of smell is not great, and my ability to put up with bad smells is (years of boarding schools etc), even I need special measures sometimes, in this case to deal with my brother...

16 years old, likes to wear black, leather, metaller stuff with spikes on etc. Sleeps in the same clothes he wears in the day, never showers. I have to share a room with him at my dads and it's fucking vile.

Anyway, know those Vicks inhalers? Snort from them enough and you'll temporarily nuke your sense of smell, great stuff!

(Yes, I packed a top tip into the story about my brother in an effort to get this to the top, as he reads b3ta...)
(ZoFreX is cleaner than smoked trout, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 20:17, Reply)

Dreadlocks Can be very hygenic
if washed and waxed and kept clean, but the only way it'll wash itself is if the bacteria form a collective self aware conciusness. And drag your arse to the shower you stinking hippy.
Gargh a guy came to view a room I had for rent, he obviously didin't know about the wax thing, I could smell his hair through the door.
( Laird Dave Draws Now charges to take off his clothes., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 20:13, Reply)

Another roommate story...
...though I suppose you guys call them "flatmates." Anyway, I roomed with this guy for a little over a year, who said that he did not believe in soap or deodorant. He said that human beings weren't made to spread chemicals all over their bodies, yet he would consume cigarettes and liquor in moderate to copious amounts. The deodorant thing wasn't too big a deal because I didn't really hang out with him that often and, suprisingly, he didn't really even stink that bad. But when he cooked!

Well, this one time in particular, I awoke on my day off and went into the kitchen for breakfast. What I saw there blew my mind. First of all, there were several jars -- mayonaise jars, pickle jars -- hanging by rope from one of the cabinets. These jars were spread with an indistinguishable white glue-like goo which was also dripping from them. The goo was spread all over the kitchen and the whole house smelled like charcoal and flour. Discovering the oven was still on, I peeked inside, to find a shrivelled, blackened little loaf, smoking and reeking. The story I heard from him later was this: he was trying to make a pound cake. He had somehow gotten it into his mind that a pound cake required a pound of butter, a pound of flour, et cetera, which was the reason for the jars -- make-shift scales. He had worked on this project for hours and popped the terrible cake into the oven, only to go to bed ten minutes later, forgetting the whole horrid mess until I came upon it half a day later. During the whole time we lived together, I can't recall eating anything he cooked.
(BrainSurgerysFun, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 19:21, Reply)

When I was a teenager
I belonged to a youth group, that had three brothers in it. Youngest, middle, oldest...

Every single one of them stank, and I mean, rank... but it seemed the older they got, the more in tune they were with the concept that it was not socially acceptable to smell. So, youngest would easily make a whole room stink, and eldest would only make his immediate vicinity smell.

Mainly, it was a smell of unwashed orifices, rancid sweat, and whatever they had eaten for the past month, combined with putrid skin oils and environmental factors.

One day, I had the misfortune of visiting them at their home, and a truth behind the smell came to light. Not only did they sleep fully clothed, but they only changed their clothes every so often, and the beds were bare of linens, and the bathroom was bare of even basic hygiene products, such as soap of any sort.

They were not poor, or stupid, and they were far too old to be the subject of some strange child abuse problem. I never did solve the mystery, and though we were friends, I think it is the only time in my life, where people have simply smelled so bad, that I have been unable to overcome it. And I have smelled homeless people who smelled of stale piss and booze, who smelled better...
(soldierofmisfortune I ain't broke but I am badly bent on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 19:10, Reply)

Hiking Through The Desert
Took a hike in the Tucson Mountains once. Normally, allergies aren't a big problem in the desert, but that day something was blooming, and my nose would not stop running. Ran out of tissues in 15 minutes. By the end of the day, the entire front of my shirt was soaked in snot. And there was not a damned thing anyone could do about it.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 19:04, Reply)

cat-piss-k
I went on an overseas trip to central america with my school when i was aged 18.

Unfortunately a young, extremely fucking fat, lady who we'll call 'k' went too. Her problem is that she smells of a mixture of piss, cats, and cats' piss. Oh, and BO.

Luckily for me i didn't have to share a room or tent with it on the months long expedition. My girlfriend, however, did. The stench was repulsive, so wrong infact that we had to wash clothes belonging to OTHER PEOPLE who hadn't even touched her to rid ourselves of this evil.

I had the last laugh though. One afternoon, a small group had gone to a market in the village in which we were staying to fetch provisions. I was at the hostel having a kick around with some other lads. One of the provision fetching group arrives and says "this is mean yet hilarious and if i don't tell you i'll explode"

He went on to tell the tale of how cat-piss-k had got its period in the middle of the village, cried all the way back to the hostel. I'll never forget the image of treking up a volcano and her ahead, wobbling in blood stained hiking shorts.
(ben_1903 www.crackout.tk, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 19:01, Reply)

This really shouldn't bother me, I guess...
...but it does. I've been living with my roommate for years now and one thing that I cannot tolerate anymore (in fact, I'm moving within a month) is his HAIR. Being half-black and half-white, his hair is a unique abombination, which actually looks remarkably similar to pubic hair. So littered all over my apartment -- on my kitchen table, on dishes, on the floor, even on my TOOTHBRUSH somehow, are these curly dark hairs that make me gag even though they could quite possibly just be regular, clean head-hair. I'm not willing to take any chances, though. *Shudders* So I moved my toothbrush out of the bathroom and now keep it in my bedroom, right next to a pile of mildewed cups that have been in there for as long as I can remember...you know, for cleanliness.
(BrainSurgerysFun, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:55, Reply)

Some dirty bint
in British Gas, Cardiff (floor 6) has nothing better to do than spend her days filling the walls of the ladies' loos with snot and bogies.

Absolute minger!
(Medibot, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:53, Reply)

My flatmates
Seem to think that orange is a perfectly acceptable colour for a toilet bowl. When I pointed out that I'm the only person who has ever cleaned the toilet and that maybe someone else should do some cleaning on occasion one of them went and bought one of those blue blocks you put in the cistern. Before I move out I'm going to shit on the floor - I bet they don't bother cleaning that up either!
(mmm....beer, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:48, Reply)

I haven't read anything posted but...
I FUCKING HATE MINGERS WHO SAY THEY DON'T WASH THEIR HAIR BECAUSE IT WASHES ITSELF!

This is fine, if you live in a summer meadow far from the toxins and pollutions of the modern day...

But i don't think evolution has caught up that quickly to clean your hair of the smoke from your vile smelling rollies you fucking hippi!
(likeajackhammer, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:46, Reply)

mmmmm
spent last summer working in a summer camp in America, towards the South- where it can get seriously hot. So hot that everybody gets full-on sweaty just standing outside.

One day during the hottest week I was late up and had to get ready superfast and made the mistake of grabbing the same camp uniform t-shirt as the day before in my haste. I smelt thoroughly rank and will freely admit I have never met anyone smelling as bad as I did that day.

Realised when at the morning meeting my boss asked if anyone can smell something, thus bringing my manky state to everyone's attention. Not exactly the most fun day ever.
(randy the gnome, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:39, Reply)

unusually
for a gay guy, one of my colleagues in a previous job was really sloppy about his personal hygiene. he reeked of piss and shit and would only change his shirt about once every three days.

he was also painfully bright but not a good lawyer. not even a little bit. the girls would leave him deodorants and wipes on his desk but he never took the hint.

eventually one of the partners was asked to talk to him. he called james into his office and explained there had been complaints about the stench.

james bowed his head. "i will do my best," he said. "but you have to understand that i have been a practising homosexual for many years and as a result i am not always able to control my sphincter".

and off he went, leaving the partner speechless (and chewing on the rancid miasma james left behind him).

i don't care how controversial you're trying to be, that's just downright unprofessional in my book!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:34, Reply)

no subject but whatever
I used to know a guy, i wont mention his name because he was aces, but you could smell him coming from a mile off! I remember one time him and me were in a scrum in a friendly inter-house rugby tournament and after that my hair and shirt reeked off this guy! Has to be one of the worst smells known to man.

since this is my first post i dontk now whether i should apologise for length
(bushman, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 18:16, Reply)

The saga of semenfungi
In an IRC channel I used to hang out in was a guy who we will call Josh, for that was his nick. This is his story, in his own words (minus spelling mistakes). Apologies in advance for length / girth / disgustingness.

About a year or so ago, being the lazy fuck I am, would do my business (that means jacking off, people) on this chair, and my seed would land on this loney stretch of carpet at the corner of the room, far enough out of the way that I didn't have to worry about cleaning

Disgusting, yes.

This goes on for a few months, with me paying little attention to the condition of my carpeting. Then I start noticing that whenever I enter said room, something sets off my sensitive allergies and sends me into a pleasant sneezing/coughing fit. I search the room as best I can for the source, but to no avail. Anywho, few more weeks pass as I learn to live with it, usually by scarfing numerous antihistamines whenever I go in.

Then one day I notice it.

There's shit GROWING on that lone, semen-stained stretch of carpet.

Initially this is subject to my amusement. I watch it for a few days, and hey, more and more fungi begin sprouting at an alarming rate. This is when I inform [IRC channel] of the strange mushroom-like fungus propagating on my carpet, and its milky origins.

Many laughs are had, and a few loud vomits.

The matter passes, and shortly after when I go to move out, we notice something. And by 'we', I mean the landlord's guys. They discover that there is a horrendous case of mutant mildew (or so it was assumed) in the room. This was no news to me, and I explain it had been there for a while, but am mum about its origins (later I tell them it was spilt milk).

The carpet in this area is completely destroyed by fungus. So, the head super decides in his infinite wisdow to pull up the carpet, kill the fungus, then replace the damaged spot
So they pull up ALL the carpet in the room, only to discover..

IT IS EVERYWHERE

Yes, my friends, this mutant semen fungi had not only consumed its allotted square, but then it had gone and SPREAD UNDER THE CARPET! So strong was its roots, that it was learned that it had dug into the concrete - I repeat: the fungus had dug into the concrete!

I later learned that that room had required signifigant renovation and fumigation. But, fuck, I didn't care, I had already moved. So, to sum up: My semen caused what may have added up to thousands of dollars of damage to a room. And I am also responsible for creating the most disgusting form of fungi ever.

In short: Clean up after yourselves, you lazy bitches.

Oh, and I didn't pay a cent towards the damages.
(ZoFreX is cleaner than smoked trout, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:57, Reply)

The hell of Norwich
I had the unfortunate experience to have worked with a bloke, who was known as Smelly. He was a lovely chap, but never washed and never used deoderant (said it gave you cancer). For work, we had to move out of London & I shared a house with Smelly and my other boss. We made sure he had the room with en-suite bathroom. Which he never used. We bought him a bed - he put the mattress on the floor & slept on it in a sleeping bag, with his dog. He didn't change the sheets once in 3 months - when we left, they were black. He lived on tinned mussells and such like and used to leave the semi-empty cans all over the house. He never washed up. His stench was so acrid I used to walk to work rather than get in a car with him. Our office mates told him he stank - he denied it & told them they had problems. Best bit was when he wore his new leather trousers in the summer (every day for weeks) - the acrid miasma was almost visible - he was pigpen. Every now & then when I catch the smell of festering drains, I think of him... I've never been so glad to have been made redundant. Mind you, he had competition. I was in a cab with a driver who used to drive Vanessa Feltz. He told me she stank to high heaven. Which is nice.
( parttimebabe is almost there..., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:56, Reply)

Bloke at work
Not so much of one thing as a general all round minger. He half makes an effort but always has stains on his tie. Here's a list of his charms:

1. Has BO, not always but can be fairly ripe
2. Nose picker
3. Dandruff ridden half combed hair
4. Usually has remnants of shaving foam around his face
5. And toothpaste
6. Farts a lot, one day the smell was so bad comments were made to which he replied, "Sorry it must be the Ratatouille"
7. Sniffs, snorts and grunts revoltingly when he's got a cold
8. Plates stack up on his desk, crumbs everywhere, makes mess in the kitchen
9. He coughs and sneezes without covering his mouth. He sneezes so powerfully you can see the spray fly out of his mouth and if he does it sitting down his chair moves backwards about a foot
10. The creme de la creme, I once saw him slowly put his hand down the front of his trousers and scratched the twig and berries. This was followed by a slow withdrawal as he brought the fingers slowly up to his nose for a prolonged sniff, all the time whilst staring straight ahead into the distance.

Lovely stuff.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:53, Reply)

Christ
I just laughed at Safetyfox's answer and promptly shat myself, the first time in over 20 years. Lets hope that the next qotw isn't about suddenly dying.

Don't eat the food in Morocco.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:52, Reply)

Witham smells...
Witham smells because of a Maltings next to the train station.

Not because all of the scuzzy people that live there
(Matthew-field.co.uk, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:48, Reply)

Dial "S" for Stinky
About 15 years ago I worked for a company that wrote control software. (No names, no pack drill) One summer, they took on "S".

S was a bit strange, had stranger friends, and even stranger habits. He also had a severe body odour problem - which smelt like decomposing bodily fluids and KY jelly (just trust me on this, OK?) - that he tried to cover up with cheap aftershave, only making it worse.

Now this is summer in the early nineties, in a building with no air-conditioning. Within a week, he'd emptied the office. People were finding excuses to go and work on the shop floor. After two weeks, he still hadn't taken the hint, or for that matter a shower, just piled on more aftershave.

We became very good at holding our breaths.

It got to the point where we complained to senior management. The head of department thought we were exaggerating, but he promised to have a word with "S".

In his office.

In private.

With the door closed.

After about five minutes the boss came out, and went off to the lavatories to throw up.

S turned up next day smelling considerably better, but deteriorated rapidly.

Within a week he was given the sack.

No apologies for length, as in "best kept at arms..."
( Stevedix http://www.stevedix.de/blog, Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:46, Reply)