Former housemate
Last year, we were 2 housemates short of filling the 5-bedroomed house we wanted to rent (we spent the whole year 1 housemate down but the landlord was great and didn't charge the 'missing' rent). After much advertising and asking around, this guy showed up. Mr Sanity Challenged showed him around, we knew a few people who knew him and gave us good character reports, all in all he appeared to be quite a nice guy.

Then he moved in. What our friends hadn't told us is that the guy stank - apparantly, at the radio station were he used to DJ, the people in the timeslot after him stopped DJing because of the lingering stench. It appears he'd showered the day he came to see the house, 'cos after he moved in, the shower visits became less and less frequent. It started at maybe 2 or 3 a week (pretty grim, but not unreasonable). By the time he left we estimate he hadn't showered in at least 2 months. In addition, he rarely flushed the loo - if you went in after him, you had to prepare for a nasty suprise. He didn't wash his clothes much and didn't even have a sheet on the bed (there was a duvet and pillow covers but these didn't get washed once in the year he lived with us). I don't believe that he cut his toenails as they could be found, huge yellow manky things, broken off on the sofa. His diet consisted of takeaways, toast and cups of tea. You had to ensure his bedroom door stayed shut as not only did you not want to see the state of it in there, the smell used to waft out and fill the house.

It's a shame his personal hygiene was so poor - had we been able to stand near him for longer than a couple of minutes we might have found out he was as nice as he'd first appeared. As it was we more or less avoided him totally unless we needed his money for rent or bills (never of which he was willing to cough up).

He went back to live with his mum in the end. The house now has 5 guys in it, all with hygiene standards emulating his.
(sanity challenged, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 16:05, Reply)

fatty plays video games
my best friend is a rather rancid guy. he's lost some weight, but still looks like a troll. he dresses nice, but that means shit when you reak of old tacos.

anyway, back when we were in elementary school (around age 10) he played video games quite a bit. He still does, but in a less pathetic way. It was spring break and we had a little over a week off from school. he'd just gotten zelda: ocarina of time for his n64.

don't know how his parents let this happen, as they are not usually neglectful, but he played the game for the entire week. That means every minute of everyday was spent sitting on that couch playing the game. needless to say, he was smelling pretty rank by day two. but what distinguishes this week long binge from others is that he shat his pants on day one. he did not move from this couch until day 6.

oh god. how does this happen? and why did he brag about it???
(Baron von Aaron CHARGE!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 16:01, Reply)

The Zombie
I used to work in HMV, one of the properly massive ones. I was in the Specialities bit, obviously the HR woman had taken one look at me and though "this is the man to take over Easy Listening" :/

So, after a few weeks on the job I start to discover the regular customers, mostly old dears who like a bit of Sinatra or Max Bygraves... Then one day I met him. The Zombie.

He was a very tall feller, old, a little fluffy white remainder of hair... dressed prettymuch like all old people do, except for his fabric leg brace thing. This made him walk very very slowly, with a noticeable limping gait. In addition to this, he obviously used to be something of a smoker and was reduced to mumbling his requests in a very gruff, growly, low pitched voice. Very hard to make out any words at all.

Then there's the fact that his jumper (always the same blue jumper) was covered in a range of interesting stains; beetroot, mustard, beige...errr...stuff...

Pretty average. Until you consider that his skin was rotting. His bald patch had a large section where it was quite literally rotting away, permanently leaking puss. Also, his hands, quite evidently not washed in years, covered in bits of food, dirt, rotting flesh...

Combine the whole lot - mumbling growl, slow shuffle, rotting flesh, deathly smell and need for Easy Listening music and you can see how I arrived at his nickname.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:58, Reply)

Pissy flat
A few years back I was seeing a guy (he had a teensy willy but that's another story), visited him one evening only to be met by the vilest stench in the world when he opened the door. It was a combo of piss and damp dog. He seemed oblivious to the stink, merrily stuffing his fat chops with greasy KFC, while I sat holding my nose ("have you got a cold, darling?" "no, your fucking flat stinks"). After an hour of breathing through my hand, I made an excuse and left. Never did find out if the flat continued to stink as I never went there again :-D
(angelica666, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:55, Reply)

Very sweaty
A woman I used to work with had a problem with excessive sweating, the odd thing was that it was only from one of her armpits. On a hot day she would have a large sweat patch under her right arm but nothing on the other side (she also always wore long sleeve tops but that’s a different story).

The smell tho was fantastic, no really, gave me the raging horn, well it was fresh sweat, she did keep herself clean. It may have been cos I fancied her rotten that I liked the smell, or perhaps it’s her pheromones that made me fancy her, either way her brick shithouse of a husband was never going to let me investigate further.

As for me, I’m a stinker. One friend always runs me a bath when I go round to visit.
(middleofnowhere, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:45, Reply)

Brother
My brother as a 10 year old was immensely proud of his farting ability (in fact he still is in all honesty 20 years later).

On of his favourite memories of childhood was letting one go in the car coming back from my Gran's house causing my sister to be sick everywhere - that was a lovely car journey home, especially as we weren't allowed to mess with the windows in the back.

The other one which gains most recognition was the time he farted in an amusement arcade in Blackpool while playing the slots. The stench was so bad that people stopped playing and vacted the area and the guy that worked behind the change counter came round spraying air freshener whilst dry gagging on the smell.

Might not be completely on topic, but there are at least 3 or 4 Farting suggestions for QOTW which are all being ignored, so this may be as close as I can get to share.

Cheers
(brocky, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:43, Reply)

If anyone
here has ever lived in Moseley, Birmingham then you will probably have had the misfortune to encounter Dave..

Dave emits a force field of stink a good 15 feet in radius - I have seen him clear buses/shop etc, seriously, the stench he produces is criminal.
(flibbley lame balloon man far and wee, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:36, Reply)

one of my best mates
is called fish face behind her back as she never washes, her feet stink as she doesnt wear socks and when she does, its the same pair for weeks. shes never heard of soap or deodrant. and because shes a mate, we cant tell her...

aka, no hygiene whats so ever.
( Captain Pilchard The king of B-movies!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:34, Reply)

I used to work in asda in Newport many years ago
There used to be a family who came from the local estate. Fat as fuck they were. Dad, mum and fat little bastard child. The father had greasy quiffed hair and a huge belly covered in various stains. The mother had huge blotchy purple vainy legs, a humongous gunt, pock marked face and greasy thinning hair. The kid was a right little pudding too. He was about 12 and rumoured to not be house trained. Anyway, they stunk of piss. Absolutely reeked of it. If they had been in the store, you could tell which aisles they had been down from the piss-stinkin trail they had left. One day the woman slipped over on a wet floor. So they called a first-aider. My mate went over, but refused to pick her up cos of the over ripe stench of fetid urine coming from her. So she sued. They were affectionately named by the staff as The Piss-Family Robinson.
( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:32, Reply)

Sh*t
Ok, slightly off topic - Well, perhaps not.

A friend of mine from a former life - Scott - had an ass problem.

I don't know what or how, but everything he ate came out of his ass smelling of hell sewer - I know this as I've had the misfortune of: Working with him in a confined space, sharing a car with him, standing next to him, etc.

His favorite past-time was farting and letting all partake in the smell - fine if you're 10, but at 21, it's just old....

He had a minor sweating issue, but not all the time - so we'll forgive him that one.

Now one time he'd helped me move house - which was nice. He repaid me by sweating like, well, a large sweat bag filled sweating thing. Lovely. And then filling the house with the most rancid sweat smell imaginable.

It got better:

He decided to take a sh*t in our loo - not a crime by any stretch. But when he was done - I had the misfortune of needing the loo - I walked in, damn near threw up and decided that i'll use the downstairs loo instead. The smell could not have been worse if I had gone to the local sewer works and put my head right inside one of those sewer pits - and then smelt Sian's feet (see earlier post).

My housemates were NOT appreciative and he was subsequently barred from the house. (The first of many of my friends to be barred as I recall - Thanks Sian!)
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:32, Reply)

Festival toilets...
Everyone knows the state that festival toilets are in by the end of the weekend and really this one was no different to the rest... except for the fact that upon opening the door I discovered a mound of shit so high it had escaped the chemical bit at the bottom of the toilet, and formed a peak reaching a good foot above the level of the seat.

How the bluddering fuck did someone manage that?!?

Not only this however... Someone had put a Bakewell Tart on the top of the mound.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:29, Reply)

Ad nauseum
I knew a truly great guy, genuinely funny, patient and intelligent. Because he was such a diamond i'll not give out his real name for 2 reasons:

1. So as not to offend him, he's an I.T geek and for all i know visits the site
2. Because it makes me giggle to think of some b3ta reader i've never met thinking "omg does he mean me?"

So we'll call him Paul.

Well paul... you know the "fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down" phrase? We paul fell out of said tree, and after dusting himself off ate the tree and all the wildlife it contained. Then casually discarded the bones and leaves (he didn't 'do' greens). Suffice to say the guy was ugly, large and messy. (but still funny, intelligent etc... just to remind you :P)

His flat and specifically his bedroom would have been a goldmine for anyone wanting to do accelerated research into how sedimentary rock is formed. Alternating layers of cigarette packets and pizza boxes, interspersed with effects pedals like oddly musical fossils. You literally stepped up a foot when you entered his room to walk across the sea of waste.

The reason i endured this was both because he was a legend, and because we 'jammed' together, and i couldn't play drums in my flat (btw like the musical signposting earlier with 'effects pedals'? THAT'S structure... no? oh never-mind) So i'd travel over on weekends to muck about, learning new beats, and also learning that you could play drums with coke bottles.

Always willing to help a mate, one day when he was out me and another friend decided to do him a favour and clean the flat. After stocking up on several rolls of bin bags we dived in peeling back layer after layer, and disgusting as it was once we reached bedrock (sustained metaphor huh? pfft anyway...) anything that had gone before looked positively rosy in comparison.

The stench was bad enough, but we'd obviously aquired an immunity over the afternoon... but the particular brand of hell paul had fermented in his room came in two flavours. The first was areas of the carpet that had literally been eaten, melted or decomposed until the bare floorboards showed through. The second was under several of the pizza boxes (+half eaten pizza), the denizens that had done the corroding/eating of the much abused carpet. Loads and loads of maggots.

I don't know if paul ever knew this, i've never been able to mention it to him and i've not seen him for four years. more than likely it's all back to the same state by now. But when your filth can support colonies of large multi celled organisms, and the filth is in such huge quantities that this goes by unnoticed... then THAT could be considered a hygiene problem.

erm... never been sure, is there meant to be a punchline to QOTW's? If you require one please email [email protected] and i'll endeavour to reply :)
( Shiodome has realised numbers in names aren't cool., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:27, Reply)

Her Majesty's Smelly Service
I worked as a temp in some office a few (many) years ago.

There was one guy there who wore the same clothes every day I worked there - shirt, tie, tank top, cord trousers and he stunk the place out. So much so, we all managed to move further and further away from him until there was a decent sized neutral zone between him and the rest of the section.

The only problem: he was the boss, and no bugger had the front to tll him he was a filthy, dirty bastard.

Guess who - on his last day before gtting a real job - was made to do the not-so-dirty deed?

His reply: "Oh. I thought you were all avoiding me, or something."

We were Jean-Paul, you soap-dodging dog, we were.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:26, Reply)

Vile
These stories are vile, yet I'm still reading them...

I don't usually suffer from smelly feet, but sometimes, well, I do - usually when I've been wearing trainers all day on a hot day.

For reasons that escape me, I decided to smell my socks after one of these days....

"How bad can it smell", I wondered.

After dry retching for a good 10 minutes - Pretty bad, it turned out.

I now don't wear trainers on a hot day - nor do I smell my own socks...
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:25, Reply)

JP said he was half Portuguese
Which explained his swarthy Mediterranean skin and jet black hair. What it didn’t explain was his chronic dandruff which wasn’t confined to his head, oh no, he had dandruff on his side-burns and HIS EYEBROWS!

Ten years have passed and I can still see those eyebrows...the horror...
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:23, Reply)

I was sharing a house with my mate when
another mate asked if he could stay for two weeks. Fine. This turned into three months of him sleeping on the fold-down settee in the living room. I never saw him shower once in three months. The settee covers never got washed. And they fuckin stunk of BO. Almost over powering it was. Another house mate had had enough, and told him if he didnt shower or use deoderant, he couldnt stay. He uttered the immortal lines: No Brut on - No futon.
( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:22, Reply)

we were stuck in a nuclear bunker
not because we were paranoid, but becuase we were on an air cadets base staying in an AWOC. (Advanced Weapons and Ordnance Centre methinks)

This place was designed so that, in case of nuclear, biological or chemical attack, we would be alright. (And hopefully, in a million years, emerge to participate in a Fallout-esque post-nuclear war dealio)

The room we slept in had bunkbeds with three beds per bunk. The place had no natural light or ventilation inside (for obvious reasons).
This meant the room where we stayed stank like a rotting skunk whos last meal was week-old curry.

This was mainly due to one cadet, who "couldn't be bothered" to wash. Four days into camp, I seem to recall that we convinced him to wash using something sharp and painfull looking.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:18, Reply)

guy i work with is so rancid
that one very drunken night my trainee and i were singing along to james c*nt in the car. and the following lyrics were born:

My job is brilliant
My job is pure.
But I work with a guy
Who smells like manure.

He smiled at me in the hallway.
There should be a ban.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

He fucking stinks. He fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks, it's true.
I smelt his breath, and it smelt like death
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause he really stinks of poo.

Yes, he caught my eye,
As he walked on by.
He could see from my face that he was,
Fucking ripe,
And I hope that I won't smell him again,
Cos that fucking stench will last 'till the end.

He fucking stinks. He fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks, it's true.
I smelt his pits, and they smelt like shit
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause he really stinks of poo.

La la la la la la la la la

He fucking stinks. He fucking stinks.
He fucking stinks, it's true.
There must be an devil with a smile on his face,
When he stuck us in the same workplace.
But it's time to face the truth,
Eddie - you really stink of poo.

apologies for length and childishness, but (i) this guy's breath smells like corpses marinaded in garlic and (ii) his pits smell like a sumo's jockstrap and (iii) it improves the whiney smug fish faced c*nt's song no end.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:16, Reply)

Beat this
I've had the same jeans on for 21 years!

(well i mean genes, like DNA, sorry)

Adam
(kintore_homeboy tenuous links since 1986!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:10, Reply)

Name witheld
I went to public school (Why the hell is Private Boarding referred to as public school??) so half terms were usually spent at home.

Sometimes someone would stay back for that week because their parents hated them really/they had nowhere to go/their parents decided to go on holiday without cedde child...

Or they were just too far away.

"Bob" (not his real name) stayed one half term - I and some of my mates came back a day early (or something) and we found him wandering around the school in a rather vile state - it transpired that he'd not showered or washed or changed for a week and he'd be rather active.

He'd also been playing soldiers (we were 14 FFS) so was all cammo'd up and the like. (He was odd).

For reasons that escape me, he earned the nickname "VC" - for VietCong. It stuck for 3 years and he hated it.

He wasn't ever keen on showering generally either, so when he walked past he'd often get liberally sprayed with something. Anything - deodorant, air freshener, fly spray, etc...

Didn't always help the smell, but we felt we were contributing to the overall smell of the school...

Or something....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:10, Reply)

girl
in my year known as "fish patty pants".

that is all.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:09, Reply)

stinking lorry
One of our delivery drivers quit a month ago, and the cab of his truck was so stinky that even after disinfection by Rentokill his ghastly stench remains. I have today had all the seats, carpets and headlining removed and burned... and I'm not convinced that replacing these will be enough. He had a dead fit bird too - astonishing.
(bastardboy loves his mummeh, but hoo is daddeh?, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:01, Reply)

This is the vilest QoTW for quite some time...
...like a horrible car wreck, I don't want to look, but I'm buggered if I can help it.

We have a bloke... I think... comes into to where I work. The stench on him is like something I've never encountered, a real nasal freakshow. He always smells of old piss, cheap smokes, rotting meat and gods alone know what else. It's enough to make me retch.

Were that not bad enough, he's quite a lardy chap who seems to own precisely one pair of jeans, and one brown jumper... the precise shade of brown only being describable as 'unusual'. He's desperately in need of a shave, his patchy stubble reminds of that of an old woman (old woman beards... boke!) all wiry and uneven.

Worst of all is his teeth... ugh... his first four incisors are missing in his top jaw, the rest of his teeth that I've had the misfortune of seeing are orange... fucking orange... like the bottom of a very well used, unwashed teapot.

Literally, when he comes in my skin crawls and I suddenly discover I have something that needs doing somewhere else. He's like a human walrus... smells like one too.
( SubCulture Hero ... ... He... .... Comes ... ...., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:01, Reply)

Grease Monkey
Mr Datcat is a mechanic who for a very short while worked as a Mot tester in a back street garage as a favour.
A bit lenthy so feel free to skip

One of the other mechanics (mark w who is one of the biggest wankers to walk this planet)was utterly revolting.
He used to come in on a monday morning wearing jeans and a teeshirt that he had purchased from asda on the previous friday afternoon along with a can of deodrant which he then used up to hide the stench after putting the new clothes on and binning the old.
He then wore the same clothes till friday when the whole thing was repeated.

As it was all blokes that worked there, toilet roll supplies often ran out apart from Mr Datcat who had a stash, and it was on one such day that Mark dissapeared for sometime emerging with what can only be described as a duck like waddle.
Because of the stench that came from the bloke and the tell tale whaddle they worked out that he had shit himself and instead of cleaning himself up or something had just pulled his pants up and pretended that nothing had happened.
Thankfully Mr Datcat no longer works there so I don't have to hear anymore about the guy.
(datcat Millions of cats, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 15:00, Reply)

I've had..
..the same jeans on for 4 days now.




Ok, i'll leave.
(Opanoid Look sweats dripping off them, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:56, Reply)

Where do I start?
The housemate who shat on the floor?

The urine in the food?

The idiot who hid plates of food here there and everywhere, providing unpleasant surprises when you sat down?

No! I shall tell you of my horrendously cocaine addicted housemate. But later, as I'm busy.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:55, Reply)

Ew Feet
I shared a house with 5 people at Uni. I got on with most of them, apart from Holly who was nuts.

Anyhoo....

Sian - for t'was her name - had the foulest smelling feet in the history of foul smelling feet. In the summer, we implored her to keep her shoes on as when they were off, the pungent deathly feet aroma filled the house.

On a hot still day, the best place to be was ANYWHERE else - face down in cow shit was preferable....

For reasons that escape me, she didn't wear socks with her trainers so her trainers smelt twice as bad as her feet - On more than one occasion, her shoes were put outside as the smell in the house was unbearable.

I believe that once, her trainers were thrown out - but that was just something I'd heard and I had nothing to do with it - y'honour.....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:51, Reply)

Militantly Foul
When I was in middle school (6-8th grade, US) there was a kid in my gym class named Donald. He was a quiet kid who had dorky hair and a stench that followed him like a puppy that just came out of a week in a pool of raw sewage. As a result, he was particularly unpopular.

So one day after gym, I notice that he never showered with the rest of the class...which, me thinks, is contributing to his stench! I figure the way to help this kid out is to make sure he showers so that other kids won’t be so disgusted by his wretched stench!

So what do I do? I go tell Mr. B the gym teacher who liked me because he was National Guard (territorial army) and I was dead set on going to military college and serving my country as a Marine. The conversation goes something like this:

Me: Good afternoon Mr. B. I wanted to share something with you about one of my classmates, Donald.

Mr. B: Go ahead.

Me: Donald seems to avoid the showers like a cat with rabies and I believe it contributes to his rather malodorous olfactory emissions...

Before I finished the sentence, in true National Guard fashion, Mr. B was on his way down the row of lockers where Mr. Donald changed.

Feeling as though I had done my good deed for the day, I sauntered back to my locker to strip down for a quick shower before heading off to my next class....

As I turn the corner, I see Mr. B berating Donald for not showering and escorting him to the communal showers literally by his ear. And I knew in an instant WHY Donald was not showering with the rest of us...

I do not make a hobby of noticing the size of my fellow man's genitalia, but this kid was DEFINITELY at the end of the line when they were distributing them and failed to get much.

Ever since, whenever I smell someone bad, I automatically assume that they have a really small package.

Click "I like this" if you think that theory makes sense.

Cheers!
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:41, Reply)

Oooh one I can post on....
Growing up - a few years ago now, I happened to encounter the foulest, most fetid beast ever of woman born.

His name was "S", and it is with a certain fear of reliving the memories that I recount this tale.

This was a person seemingly trapped in the nightmarish period of mid 1980's Heavy Metal.

He only wore faded Iron Maiden t-shirts and one of two pairs of jeans, which he literally lived in - sleeping in them. His hair was a long matted greasy clump, and washing was an optional activity - but these are minor details.

The true horror came from his diet. He literally lived on Pot Noodles, frozen microwave meals, and cheap "happy shopper" cola. This coupled with chain smoking cheap cigarettes and never *ever* brushing his teeth resulted in the worst rotten maw I have ever witnessed.

I happened to bump into him about 5 years later, and the horrific sight before me will stay with me for ever.
His teeth were rotten stumps encrusted in deep layers of plaque, and his gums were so infected and swollen he could barely speak - think Marlon Brando in "The God Father". In fact Shaun Ryder was an advert for Peal Drops compared to this.

He was stick thin, and his flesh had a cadaverous quality of the nearly dead, and yes - he was still wearing one of those Iron Maiden t-shirts.

Seriously kids, brush twice a day.

Length etc.

/lurk
(ColdLazarus, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:40, Reply)

Dirty bastard lodger
A good mate of mine a few years ago was down on his luck and had nowhere to go after finishing with his missus at the time, so being the good hearted people we are offered him a bed to crash at for a few weeks.

A few weeks turned into a few months. In all this time he never once washed any of his clothes (he only had a black bag of them so they were worn quite frequently), never thought about washing the bedding (we threw it away after he left), would leave the house for work literally 5 minutes after waking up in the morning (without washing, cleaning his teeth or anything) and didn't do one jot of housework in all the time he was there.

The warning signs should have been there before he moved in - I remember him once telling me that he used to eat raw garlic as the girls loved the smell on him.

The crunch time came for kicking him out when we found he'd had his girlfriend over and they'd used our bed. Not discovered by any used condoms lurking by, but buried underneath my pillow was a cum-encrusted unwashed for months sock.

Managed to stop gagging enough to give him 10 minutes to get his stuff and get the fuck out. There were lots of other issues as well but this was the icing on the cake.

Unsuprisingly, we are no longer in contact with each other. Fat, smelly, lazy, stinking dirty bastard that is called Greg.
(brocky, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 14:37, Reply)