We hired
a lady once that stank like a dead cow and refused to wash. (I said no.. but we had no choice) I even bought her soap, but she didnt use it. She also had a mole that looked like an engorged tick on her cheek. After multiple complaints I sacked her and it took weeks to get the smell out of the building. I shoulda ripped the mole off first just to see..
(Peripheral Visionary, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 7:29, Reply)

Not strictly a smelly story but...
One evening recently my girfriend and I were stood waiting outside an underground station in the fine city of Bucharest in Romania. Lurking, or perhaps I should say operating, just outside the station were a family of Romany gypsies. There were about 10 of them in all, mostly youngsters and a controlling matriarch. She stayed inside the station where it was warmer whilst the kids were directing each other around on advanced begging manouvers (that included whistling to each other when a cop car passed by!). Anyway, after a while we noticed the matriarch stumble up out of the station and waddle over to some trees about 30ft from the entrance. She proceeded to hoist up her dress, squat, slash, drop her dress then waddle back into the station. It was dark and some shadow was afforded, however, we could see it all without any effort. How sumptuously charming!
(quotha Get ready for The Goblin's Foot!, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 2:06, Reply)

Shitpisscumwaxmaggot man...
The mankiest person I have ever met is a guy in his 60's who lives alone in a very small unit. His carpet reeks of urine (he has no pets) and squidges underfoot when you walk on it. There is faecal matter encrusted everywhere - on the floors and carpet, under his fingernails, over bedding and furniture and all over and around the toilet.
He usually calls the ambulance (me) when he has chest pain - which is usually bought on when he has a wank. He makes no attempt to clean himself after said wank and he picks and eats his ear wax continually. The only time I have been to him other than for chest pain is when his neighbours called us because of a smell of rotting meat coming from his unit. We assumed he had died and it did indeed smell like putrefaction (rotting body) but no, he was alive and well. His ulcerated foot had degenerated to the point that maggots were now present.
He refused to come with us or the police to hospital and we had to leave him there because the law allows for his "self-determination" if he is fully conscious and alert.
I believe the foot was amputated a few days later, maybe the maggots convinced him that he was too manky for even them.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 1:20, Reply)

Hippy Birds Feet
When I was at Uni there was this girl who pretty much never wore shoes in the summer and had the shittiest looking feet ever. They pretty much looked black and she sat around in the cafeteria whilst we were eating. She came around our house once and left marks all over our bathroom. And she was welsh.
(vodkarocket, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 1:08, Reply)

My first year at university.....
there was a lovely guy who lived in the opposite corridoor to mine.
He was a little bit weird, but on the whole everyone on our floor got on with him.

Things were fine for the first couple of weeks...he didn't smell pleasant but then we all put that down to being away from home...etc.

The smell grew steadily worse, until you couldn't walk into the opposite corridoor without gagging, the smell REALLY clung to you and you had to wash everytime he was around you. We banned him from our kitchen in the end because the smell would linger for so long after he'd left.

It all came to a head over summer. The stench was able to get through two sets of double doors and into all of our bedroom, even mine and I was as far away from his room as was possible.
My parents came to visit and I had to hold my Mum back from marching to the accomodations officer, "about the obviously dire state of the toilets and drains in the halls."

When he moved out, the university stripped his room and spent a very long time bleaching and disinfecting everything in an attempt to get rid of the smell.

He apparently smells much better now. Fucking lazy-arsed students...
(Holly Looloo Does Not Love You, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 0:51, Reply)

I work for the maintenance department for a chain of shops.
My workmate was busy replacing some broken floor tiles near a tillpoint once, when an obese woman soiled herself.

She had reached the front of the queue and was busy searching through her purse for the correct change when she shat herself. She can't have been wearing any knickers, A stream of loose stools fell in a pile on the floor straight between her legs.
She showed no sign that she was aware of what had happened, not a grunt or strain, she never even blushed or attempted to apologise, just took her shopping and left, seemingly oblivious.

The manager asked my friend to clean it up, he declined.
( my gran, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 0:47, Reply)

There was a girl I went to school with
who was about 6ft tall. She smelt pretty bad. Like a fucking farm yard. You know, like shit and wet hay and animals and more shit.
She also had 6 toes on each foot. Not proper toes though. Just these half toes poking out of the side of her foot, but technically individual toes. Not really a hygiene issue that but it looked fucking gross.
(jeaneye, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 0:44, Reply)

Work, public transport and school
These seem to be the main areas of encountering such awful scents or experiences.
I myself have come up against all three.
Work - we used to have a very smelly lady in our office. As one of the team managers, a lot of the junior staff used to come to me and complain about the smell of afore-mentioned unwashed woman and the fact that even when she wasn't there, her chair stank too. In the end, us managers went to the section head and he had Smelly in for a chat...
Working in HR you get some classic cases as well - we disciplined a man who once took a shit behind a bush whilst on duty because a load of parents & kids saw him and their parents complained.
There were 3 token smelly kids at school who no-one ever wanted to sit by. Mysteriously they all lived on the "poor" estate as well. Urgh, they bloody stunk of faecal matter, wee and cats / dogs / horses / guinea pigs (you name it) - even the teachers held them in disregard and openly used sitting next to them as a punishment.
(SpongyMonkey is an honorary East Anglian on, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 0:40, Reply)

Kinda realated...its about a smelly cat
Anyone who ever watched 'Friends' would remember Phoebes 'Smelly cat' song.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=txJdDwZduIA
(purplefairy, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 23:00, Reply)

Fish Fingers
A bloke who was at school in the year above me was for a time, I recall, known as captain birdseye.

The reason for this was that having had some finger fun with one of the girls in his year, the smell simply would not subside.

Good times.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 22:58, Reply)

Cack public transport
On a train once, noticed a slight shitty smell. Looking around saw a little kid stood next to me. Didn't think much of it until an enormous turd rolled out of his shorts, down his leg and splattered on to the train floor. His Mum (bless her) was mortified, and I offered her the copy of the Sun I had been reading to wipe it up (more shit than usual etc...). Fortunately the train wasn't carpeted (just pebbledashed).
( milkybarnick is calming down Boris on, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 22:58, Reply)

Not the greatest story, but still... WHY?!
My local Subway restaraunt is a good two minutes' drive from my school, so it's a frequent lunch destination. But one lunch there would be unforgettable.

A woman walks in, wearing a regular old ratty shirt and blue sweatpants, awkwardly high above her waist, but not quite above her belly. She walked in and headed straight to the bathroom.

A moment later she reappeared, and stood in line, patiently waiting to order. From my seating position, I could see her back and rear end clearly, and it was then that I noticed there was something new on her solid blue sweat pants. Something new and brown.

I pointed out to my friends the one large and four small satellite smears on this woman's pants and as I struggled to keep eating, I hoped to god that when she reached the cash register, (which was closer to us than she was when I noticed the smears) we would have the fortune not to recieve a waft of aformentioned smears. No such luck.

In fact, it was something of a BLAST of shit-smell launched out of parallel, vertical cannons into each of my nostrils as she reached the cash register. We all smelled it at the same time, and I stood up to run to the bathroom, closely followed by one of my friends, when I realized that it was the bathroom was the scene of the crime to begin with. Fearing the horrors of what lay inside, I turned around and stopped my friend, and we all just grabbed our food and booked it out the door, breathing deeply the clean fresh air.

Quite an adventure in disgust.
(Zoidberg Jr - Food, you say?, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 21:49, Reply)

My grandmother.
I know, I know, shes old and cant help it, and I do love her really, but sometimes it just gets too much, so allow me my rant.

My nan, who I live with, is a fearsome woman who should be avoided in the mornings at the best of times. Not because of her bad mood, more because of a wish to start the day off on a good note, not a crazy-old-lady-smelling-of-wee kind of way. It wouldnt be that bad, but she insists on picking your most hungover mornings for her kitchen-cleaning ritual, which involves covering the entire kitchen in bleach. Have you ever smelt old woman and bleach? Sort of a mixture of salmon and...well, bleach.

*boke*
( SugarSpunSister Yeah, whatever, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 21:12, Reply)

I've just remembered...
One of the girls at work can be quite grim sometimes. Don't ever, ever lend her plates or cutlery. She will leave it on the windowsill next to her desk for at least a week with dirty food on, before you have to rescue it and wash it yourself.

However, the worst thing is a story she frequently tells us (she loves talking. especially about herself). On this occasion, she says she was ill, and somehow shat the bed. She tried to wake her boyfriend and he ignored her and carried on sleeping. So rather than persevereing and changing the sheets, she went and got a towel, laid it over the shit, then went back to sleep.
(mazzmatazz is messing it up like a blue bottle, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 19:39, Reply)

this has been a real eye opener....
I used to think I knew some mingers till I read this.......blimey.

One thing that does stand out though, is when I was working at a certain well known (and since bought out) cable television company near Manchester Airport.
Because for whatever reason, they didnt employ their own installations staff but hired them from an employment agency, they were never that mithered about making sure the job was done properly.
You could expect a certain amount of calls every day from people who had expected their cable tv to be put in, but the installation people had never turned up.
So when this guy phoned up and said that his install hadnt gone ahead, I wasnt too surprised... then he said that the engineers had actually walked out and said
that they wouldnt do the job. Which was a surprise. so I phoned their manager to try and find out what had gone on - when I spoke to him, he told me that yes, they *had* walked out on this guy's
install... at his instruction.
It turns out this guys house was full of rats. not pet rats.... your actual rats. at least fifty of them on the ground floor alone, according to the installs manager. And the rat shit on the floor was ankle deep at least. So he'd told the installers to come off site as it was a health hazard.
I phoned the guy back up and politely as I could told him why he wasnt getting cable tv. His response? 'who the f*** are you lot to tell people how to live?'
Dirty, dirty fecker.
(tjn whizzing on the electric fence of life, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 19:13, Reply)

Mental Hospital. Dysentry Ward.
I just don't know where to start.



There was shit.... everywhere.



Ugh.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 18:52, Reply)

Tooth brush
The people I work with now have the stinkiest breath you have ever come across. That possibly explains why they always need to be brushing their teeth. But I'm guessing it has something to do with the excessive amounts of kimchi(cabbage marrinated in chilli oil for about a month) that they eat and other spiced food.
Often they will leave their tooth brushes in the toilet (can I just clarify that I dont mean the white porcelain bowl, but the room with the sinks, urinals, and the white porcelain bowls) on the windowsil. The lavvys themselves are also totally disgusting and that is another hygiene story, but these things are often left unatended collecting the fecal matter that has become airborne. Sometimes the thought has crossed my mind about the possibility of using their toothbrushes as a bog brush.
( turb0t, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 18:51, Reply)

Bag Lady
15 or so years back, when I was a cobol programmer on a IBM mainframe, there was a consultant programmer that worked in our team. We called her the bag lady because basically she always carried this sainsburys carrier bag with its bulky contents, and it was never out of her tightly clutched hands. She basically looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, he dress sense was worse than bad pickings from a jumble sale, but worst of all, SHE STUNK so bad I never thought it was possible for any human ALIVE to smell that bad. Eventually my manager had a few words with her about her revolting body odour and personal hygene, but not a lot really changed. Although one day, she was slack in her personal security, and she got up from her desk possibly to go to the toilets, but she had left her bag on the desk, so given that it was a burning question for everyone, my manager took a sneaky peek at what was inside the sainsburys carrier bag.... we were bitterly disapointed, as it was just full of more carrier bags.
( turb0t, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 18:44, Reply)

The fat kid
This fat kids alright I guess but he should at least try and do something about his weight and BO problem. He sits in class on a mild day and actually sweats from the exertion of merely existing. A friend of mine walked past him once and breathed in. The stench that hit him like a truck made him retch.
(vibrating tuna, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 18:23, Reply)

Posted on Ubersite by MANSWINE
It took me a long time to write this. Half because the therapy to get over it took longer than I thought and half because, well, I'm lazy.

This is hands down the worst customer story that's ever happened too me. Worse than the death threat, worse than the mother breast feeding her 5 year old in front of me, worse than all the morons that call in and it may not sound like it, but if you try to imagine the experience and you'll understand.

It's a slow day and I'm not doing much. I work at a cell phone booth in a mall and as you can imagine it's not the most exciting job in the world. To interrupt my boredom a customer come in and I instantly regard her as possibly the smelliest person in the world. She comes up and leans on my desk causing it to audibly creak. She is notably overweight and followed by the second smelliest person only can be assumed as her boyfriend. Oddly, he's is notably underweight. These two have only taken one shower in their entire lives and that's the free one they give you at the hospital when your born. Their clothes used to be white but now are a rather gross colour yellow. I wish I was making this up. Soon after they graced me with their presents the air around me began to smell a different. A lot different. A lot different in a bad way.

I've seen, err...smelt, tons of stinky customers. These two were among the top ten slinkiest but the woman(I think) that was leaning on my desk is different in that she had some sort of tracheotomy done. Maybe a nursing student can explain it too me someday but she had a small tube in her throat that she would breathe through. Like her clothes, it too used to be white. Whenever she talked she would cover it with her thumb.

"Check my credit" she breathed in a Darth Vader like way.

"Sure" I squeaked trying to hold my breath as the air around me was now questionably poisonous. I knew a credit check takes 5 minutes or so and I knew I couldn't last.

As I am furiously typing her info up she stands across from me. Breathing. Heavy. I'm wearing a short sleeve shirt and I can fully feel the warm breath from her tube spray directly on my bare skin. It's hard to write how gross that is. Read it again and put some thought to it.

My brain screams "Holy crap man! Skin reports that it can feel her nasty tube breath."

"Yes thank you brain I am aware" I reply.

"Dude we're going to have to light ourselves on fire. It's the only way."

"I agree brain, I'll go get some gas later."

"Hey man, I hate to add to our problems but lungs report that they are low on air."

Soon I'll have to take a breath. I don't like the idea of that as I'm sure a hefty whiff of body odour would make me vomit. I just hit submit on her application. Won't be long now. Maybe I can last. Then, like my life is some cartoon or something, manual review flashes on my screen. I have to call the credit queue to get her credit score. That will take another 5 minutes at least. I pick up the phone and hit speed dial. "Your wait time is...one...minute..." say the robotic man on the phone. Good news but I'm totally out of air. I must breathe.

"NNNOOOO" screams my brain.

I take a breath. Big mistake. Always listen to your brain, even if you might pass out. The air totally smelled different. Different? Yes different, instead of the B.O. enriched air I had expected it was a pungent cigarette odour. "Cigarette odour?" I wonder. How's the air smell like...then it hits me...By Zeus' beard I just inhaled her nasty tube breath. The air that is in my lungs now used to reside in her nasty cancerous throat.

"Lungs taking heavy damage sir!" says my brain in panic.

That was it for me. I'm out. No sir. I can't handle this. The combination of my skin feeling like it's infected and my lungs now filled with B.O./fat-woman-cig-smoke was too much for me. I lean over and pull out the trash bin. My body takes a vote on whether to puke or not. 49% of me said yes, but my stomach had the deciding vote and it voted no. I leaned back up looking rather pale and gagging.

"You ok?" she breathed.

"Super peachy" I said, apparently near death I talk like a queer.

The credit evaluation had begun but it would still take too long, I wouldn't last another breath. Ah! We keep disinfectant hand sanitizer under the counter. Clutching my salvation I smear it all over my hands, then holding the phone closer to my face I breathe from my hands. In comes the sweet purifying alcoholic aroma. AAHH! I think I could feel the fight going on in my lungs. Johnson and Johnson vs. tube breath.

"Credit comes back a $500 per line" customer rep says.

"Super! Thanks!" I hang up on the rep and inform the customer of the ridiculous amount of money we want to charger her for her business. She scoffs as I expected and turns to make her departure. End.In.Sight. But then a card is exchanged between her and her boyfriend. Oh no, no no no. You can't want...

"Check his credit too."

Damnation! What have I done to deserve this.

She hands me his prison ID.

"Ha ha, oh you know, sorry we need a drivers license from the DMV. I can't use this. Sorry."

"All right thanks anyway, bye."

"Bye."

You know for stinky people they were very nice and polite. They might have been pleasant customers to have if it wasn't for the whole almost made me puke in a trashcan thing.
(menashem, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 18:00, Reply)

Helen and Currig
Dirty bastards. they lived in a tiny cramped terraced house with my friend.

They are truly the most pretentious knobends I've ever met (I've been nominated for a Children's Bafta darling!), they lived in abject filth despite being so full of middle wank it was unbelievable. They used to let their many cats crap everyone, layer everything in matted cat hair and walk across the kitchen counters (you could actually see paw prints). Helen 'couldn't' wash cutlery. Allergic see. I don't know how the poor dear managed to eat with the things!

I was over one night, trying not to die of cat-piss allergy only to hear them slag off a woman on the TV for having a peach bedroom and coloured wine glasses. What a faux pas!

It's turns out cat shit is chic.
(Medibot, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 17:48, Reply)

Showering at a hostel
One weekend not so very long ago I was out the Thursday night to celebrate my birthday. I got home at about three in the morning and had to leave at seven thirty to catch a bus to Edinburgh for a MUN conference as the Russian delegation (furry hats, military overcoats and red ties).

This dilatory preamble means nothing I hear you say. Well it does so stick with it.

I woke up at seven fifteen and realised that I had forgotten to pack my clothes so I liberally chucked the nearest clothes and toiletries that I could find into a small rucksack before running out to catch my bus whilst attempting to eat two bananas at the same time.

After a long and uneventful trip we arrived at the conference and I realised that wearing a winter overcoat, furry hat and three-piece suit whilst debating makes a man sweat quite profusely. Fortunately, I did not stink but did require a shower the next morning.

In my rush to pack I had forgotten my towel. I screamed with a primeval rage squeezed from the very depths of my soul and stomach, bare-chested and brandishing clean underwear and a shampoo bottle with my hands, at the sheer idiocy of the hoopy frood that I wasn't. I had a brainstorm though.

I grabbed a large handful of those crappy single-sheaf toilet papers that you get in hostels and decided to use this to dry me. Unfortunately, the towels disintegrated into my damp hair and stuck to my skin, daring me to try and brush them off so that they could disintegrate into a million, tiny, bobbly pieces that could only be removed by another shower. So I then wore a pair of socks like gloves and used them to dry myself before putting them on my feet.

I then left the shower cubicle behind, looking like cotton had been exploded across it, with a cellulose clump stuck in the plug. My friend wasn't very happy when he had a shower after me.
(John_Anon_Prince I have no heart and soul, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 17:46, Reply)

diesel fitter
i worked in exploration camps in western australian desert for years. You could do 6- 8week stints working every day. In the absence of women a lot of blokes let themselves go to seed for the entire time. if you were really motivated you could hang a bag of water that had been in the sun and have a 3 litre unsatisfying shower, but in two minutes youd be back covered in dust anyway. A lot of workmates reckoned you get used to the fetid stench, and the grime layer kept the flies and mozzies away. The dirt got in everywhere and I remember one driller's offsider who had to fly home early. To provide lubrication he'd been using diesel as lubrication for having a wank and his cock had reacted badly to it. He hadnt cottoned on to the use of company sunscreen that helped many of us to pass those lonely nights. Lucky he wasnt a smoker.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 17:33, Reply)

Starr-struck
I made eye to eye contact with Edwin Starr when he periodically came into the dry cleaners I had the misfortune to work in.

Following his gigs in various seaside holiday camps (Pontins and the like) he'd drop in his and his backing bands' stage clothes in several plastic shopping bags in which they'd been festering for several weeks.

These items comprised sweat stained strongly stinking BO ridden brightly coloured shirts made of some man-made material or other. It was my lucky task to wash or dry clean these for his next round of shows.

They smelt so bad I practically grabbed them off him and threw them in the wash before you could say minor celebrity whilst holding my breath as though my life depended on it (which it did). I think that they may have crawled into the washing machine under their own volition had I left them to it.

More a case of phwoar what is it good for?!

(sorry about that *cringes*)
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 16:53, Reply)

horrible hygiene this:
A doctor walked into a bank. Preparing to endorse a cheque, he pulled a rectal thermometer out of his shirt pocket and tried to write with it.

Realising his mistake, he looked at the thermometer with annoyance and said, "Well that's great, just great... some asshole's got my pen."
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 16:42, Reply)

Flatmate..
My flatmate during my final year of studies was this 32 year old woman that was fresh out of Journalist school, and doing her MA in Marketing or somesuch (I was doing my MSc in Software Engineering :P). Anyway, she wasn't really a slob in the general sense of the word..

But she was a truly, really, awfully horrible chain smoker.

I don't smoke. I never have, never will. I don't have anything against smokers - it is purely their choice, and I don't have a say in it.

She never ever smoked in my room. Yet she constantly smoked in hers. She lived in the apartment for 8 months, and when she left and took down the posters/pictures in her room, the difference in the color of the walls was obvious. Where the posters were, the wall was nice and white. Every other bit of the wall was YELLOW. And I don't mean like creamish white yellow. I mean dark ugly yellow - kinda like the same hue as mustard.

Luckily, according to the contract, the landlord would cover any painting, repairs, etc once we had left.
(zeroSignal, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 16:19, Reply)

There was a girl that bullied me for ages
Til I got my own back. She stank to high heaven of periods one lesson. I mean stank. Thing is, when I looked down to get my bag from under my chair at the end of it, there was blood all over the floor.

She was the biggest bitch ever. Prided her virginity and slagged off anybody who'd had sex.

She had a miscarriage. And didn't even bother to excuse herself.
( Methylene Blue - electrohead, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 15:48, Reply)

Fresh as a daisy
I am strangely odourless. Even though I cycle to work each day and arrive dripping with sweat, in no time I dry out and remain scentless all day. I don't even need to use deoderant. In fact, I have to go without washing for three days before there's a hint of smell.

Although I do find that my arse crack does get quite fudgy on a hot day. Have to wipe the bugger 15 times to clean it up.
(frankspencer, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 15:05, Reply)

I was
in the bogs at work, minding my own business with some suitable reading material, when I overheard someone taking the mother of all dumps in the next cubicle.

The grunting and straining stops, only for a "fapfapfapfap" noise to start along with further grunting.

I don't know about unhygienic, but it wasn't fucking pleasant. I feel sick.
( Kroney, Mon 26 Mar 2007, 14:59, Reply)

Saw this...
...and had to post the link. As it's not my story, don't bother clicking "I like this", just laugh at this idiot...

www.dunfermlinepress.com/news/story.php?story_id=411



A PUB regular has been barred from his favourite Dunfermline boozer – for indiscriminate wind breaking.

Management at the bar say Stewart Laidlaw “revels” in his bouts of flatulence and other punters have almost been sick after exposure to the foul smells.

Mr Laidlaw (35), who is furious at the ban by Thirsty Kirsty’s, is thought to be the first person in West Fife to be barred for breaking wind.

The James Street pub’s owner says the stench has become unbearable since Scotland’s smoking ban came in last year but suspects drinkers could have been breathing in the waft for years before without noticing it.

Former Woodmill High School pupil Mr Laidlaw, who lives in Edinburgh, admits he may have broken wind in the pub in the past but claims the ban by landlord John Thow is “petty”.

The Harvey Nichols stock assistant told the Press, “I went in and basically he turned round and said, ‘Stewart, that’s the last fart you do in this pub. Get out.’

“I didn’t even have a chance to draw breath. I just walked in and that’s all he said to me. I don’t know if he meant I’d done it before or just then. He didn’t let me ask.

“What I remember when I walked in was there was a guy playing pool and it was already stinking and everyone was laughing. It could have been anyone.

“I’ve probably done it in the past – when you’re drinking and having a laugh you don’t think about it – but that’s not the point. I must be the first person in Dunfermline to get banned from a pub for passing wind.

“I’m really angry about the way I’ve been treated. He’s making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

Touch-born Mr Laidlaw, who is registered disabled due to sight problems, partial paralysis and epilepsy, has been drinking in the pub for around seven years and often pops in after visiting his parents in Cowdenbeath.

And he says bad smells are nothing compared to the choking fumes in pubs before the smoking ban came in.

He added, “I use my old phrase, ‘This is revenge for you smokers’. I used to hate going into pubs when it was stinking of smoke.”

But Thirsty Kirsty’s owner Mr Thow hit back, saying the long-term flatulence was beyond a joke.

He said, “It is just disgusting. He revels in this and does it all the time and it’s absolutely foul, it would make you sick.

“Since the smoking ban he’s made a career out of this. He has been warned and asked politely to stop it on many occasions.

“We are a bus station pub and trying to keep new custom. The final straw was when an old gentleman came in and had his gin and tonic and the old guy was almost sick.

“Other people have dropped handbags, shall we say. But when everybody’s choking and I come out with the spray and say don’t do it again, they will appreciate that and stop it.

“His defence is, ‘It wasn’t all this when I had to put up with the smoking’. Everybody can pass wind but when you make a hobby of it it is going too far.

“He will clear the pub out usually and he thinks it is very funny. I don’t have to give him a reason for not serving him but I did, maybe thinking he would learn his lesson. But if he can’t see the error of his ways it’s a lost cause.

“I don’t want him back. I don’t need that behaviour. It has been detected for about a year [since the smoking ban], but it might have been going on for a lot longer than that.

“If we have to apologise to other customers for him, then that’s too much.”

Fife Licence Trade Association secretary John Barclay said, “The landlord always has the right to refuse someone and if he feels he has to use that, that’s his prerogative.

“You can’t just have one guy sitting there farting his day away and nobody else coming in.

“If this guy keeps coming and upsetting customers you have to address that.

“The smoking ban has raised a lot of issues. Some people are arriving in premises with serious cases of BO and you have to deal with that.

“Some landlords have said they have had to talk with people and say, ‘Look, you’re going to have to have a shower.”
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 26 Mar 2007, 14:57, Reply)