I saw a guy at ASDA
who was probably the missing connection between whale and man, he was probably so fat that he couldn't get in the shower, because I was at one end of the aisle and he was at the other and he literally left a trail of various pungent body odours behind him - it smelt like sick. His shirt was caked in sweat and his size 10 feet appeared to be stuck in his size 6 sandles.

I expect he's dead now, but by the smell at the time he could have been dead then.
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:43, Reply)

Re washing hands
I have never once washed my hands with soap and water after using the toilet and I can't understand why anyone would. What harm has it done me? None. And I regularly use a chopping board that hasn't been washed for days. Any harm? None. Bacteria is good for you. Makes you stronger.
(frankspencer, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:34, Reply)

This guy at my school
He smells so bad, it's difficult to describe it. You can smell the stench from around 10m away and on a warm day possibly further. At one point it got so bad that one of the teachers had to write a letter home telling him to have a bath. He's had nits on several occasions and if you look closely at his hair you can always see it twitching slightly. The smell itself is like when you do a slightly followed through fart into a Pringles can and leave it to 'brew' for a couples of months. To be honest I'm surprised more teachers don't say anything.
(onthe7thdaygodsaidhelloworld, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:30, Reply)

train terror
I had the squits on the train once. Nobody wanted to sit next to me, because I smelled of poo!
(amazingmikeyc internet ninja, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:26, Reply)

hmm
you know maybe it's time to get a shower, haircut, and a shave when people start crossing the street so as to avoid walking past you on the sidewalk.

the constant mumbling to myself probably didn't help matters, either.
(deilbfe6ogcshnbcryjh, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:25, Reply)

Mince and Onions.
A few years back when I still worked in IT, I worked in an office building that was converting from an old ICI paint factory. Metal Floors, Windows that didn't open more than an inch, Rudimentary aircon and PCs outnumbering people 2:1. In August it was not a fun place to be.

Then there was Mr B. I shall refer to him as Monty Burns, largely due to the fact that he looked _exactly_ like him. And he stank. That never-washes-his-shirt stink that smells like mince and onions, and lingers in the nostrils.

In August. with no Aircon.

James Bond baddies could have bottled the vapours to use in a fiendish plot of doom.

Worse still he was oblivious. Even subtly placed tins of deodorant on his desk went unnoticed.

Blech.
( B00gle-H00ps Looks like a horse, in a man costume..., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:24, Reply)

Surely this says it all
edinburghnews.scotsman.com/index.cfm?id=291942007


Nice to see he liked his Tennents anyway.
(powersquirrel, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:22, Reply)

Firstly, some school mingers
First was anthony. He just turned up from nowhere one day, with shit Telford accent and mild cigarette smell. He sat with me and some mates in some lessons. Over the next few weeks, he began to stink. It hurt to smell his stale fag stench, and see his nicotine stained fingers. He also went out with one of many local mingers, who bore resemblance to an ape. He got pics of her, thought they were "well hot" until he was dumped, then declared them minging.
Then was the history teacher, Moaning Maggie. Vegan, breath stunk of turds. Once told me off severely for labelling the IRA "terrorists".
More tales of minging tram spotters and college weirdos later
( Greenbat, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:13, Reply)

Poor Personal Hygiene Saved My Arse
You're 13. Your voice is going, hair is appearing in odd places and things are happening downstairs that you're not too sure about and not really ready for displaying to the world.

But, you've just had PE.

It was pissing it down, but the PE teacher insisted on rugby and off you slogged, coming out of the game looking like the shit demon off Dogma.

You trudge back to the changing rooms, when your morally questionable PE teacher decides to 'jump in with the boys' in the showers.

The sight of a hairy gorilla of a teacher soaping up his nadgers, about two feet in front of you, shouting 'come on lads, what's up, scared of getting your tackle out?' in the apparent aim of getting us clean was reason enough for me to go off to my Art lesson looking like the Creature From The Black Lagoon.

Said teacher was locked up for touching up a fellow pupil a year later.

So, I might have smelled like death, but at least I didn't my arse pummeled in the gym closet.

Length? Better to grow than to show.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:10, Reply)

Scott
In school, there was this lad called Scott, who never changed his shirt (or so we assumed). After a mate of mine flicked the contents of an ink cartridge all down the back of it, nothing was said so that we could gauge how long he wore the shirt for.

5 weeks. Almost an entire half-term with the same shirt on. You could almost see the wavy green stink lines oozing from his armpits.

Many Apple-Ogies for lack of grammar or general fibre-providing content.
(steadfastmeat Laconic ham, perhaps?, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:07, Reply)

My mate Neil.
Neil's toilet habits are, well, different.

Like the time he decided to go without a wipe after dropping the kids off at the pool at uni one day.

Nipping back to his girlfriend's flat for an afternoon of rabid student monkey sex, it is during said frolics that Neil's earlier toilet indiscretion is played out for all to see (well, Neil and his missus) in the form of a massive skidmark right down his lady's pristine white bedsheets.

What does one say to leaving a shitstain on your girlfriend's sheets?

"It must've been you love, I'm constipated."

Classy.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:00, Reply)

My Physics/Mechanics teacher
smells like hell. And since I'm taking AS level mechanics and physics and will be taking the same for A2, I have to put up with 7 hours of lessons with him per week, 9 next year.
Apparently he has some condition whereby he cant smell himself, whatever it is, he stinks and his shirt could be described as "aqueous" due to its sweat content.

However, nothing compares to last years maths lessons in the summer. He didnt teach us, however he taught in the lesson from 2 - 3 pm and we were taught in the lesson from 3 - 4 pm. As soon as we entered the classroom, all windows would be opened and all heads of students would be put through them. By god did he stink.

Thursday afternoons were to be feared.

We are thinking of buying him a lynx bumper pack for xmas.
(Arse Biscuits The question is not who, but why?, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:55, Reply)

not a story, more of a 'did you know'
if you don't use soap when you wash your hands after using the loo, you're merely giving the germs a nice nourishing drink.
worse still if you then use the hand-dryer.

if there's no soap, you're better off not washing your hands at all.
( urbane legend i have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:47, Reply)

immune to it all
My dad used to be a joiner for the council. He once told us that he had been sent to a house, that was so much of a shit hole that the environmental health officer had made him and his mate wear a paper suit before going in, and it had to be incinerated afterwards.

Inside supposedly was both an eye opener and a stomach churner. Everywhere was covered in grease and dog hairs and smelt like a mixture of piss, shit and old chip fat.
In the fireplace was a large pot of stew/scraps/fuck-knows-what that had dried, crusted on food all over the sides. It seems they just added food to it every day to replace whatever they took out at mealtimes, and never bothered to wash it. My Dads mate swept his sawdust up on the last day, tipped it in and gave it a stir.

There were at least 5 kids, running around in vests and pants that were stained beyond anything a boilwash could salvage, and one of the parents told him "They never get ill, they are as strong as oxes, all of 'em".
Dad reckoned that it was due to the fact they had all been exposed to so many germs and diseases (some unkown to medical science at the time) from birth that they had become immune to all of them - common cold...pah, i had that ebola last week.

Reason i remember this so vividly is that i was told if i was ever naughty they would get the couple to adopt me....shudders
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:29, Reply)

Oh good christ
I used to live in boarding school. THere wee some intersting times. I will admit that until I was 12/13 I was a bit of a dirty bastard myself, but this has changed (apart from the changing of boxer shorts. It still takes me a couple of days).

However, when i was 16-18 i changed school and most unfortunately had to do the evening roll call twice a week. This entailed me going round every room and making sure everyone is there.

Ugh. Some of the rooms were horrific. One guy called Timo, who shall remain nameless for the sake of his own rancid smell, was the winner. I don't remember ever seeing him shower. Once. No really. Never. The smell of his room was something so overpowering, that I held my breath when I walked in. Unfortunately he always insisted on fucking talking to me about his latest level designs for Unreal tournatement, something I would attempt to look appreciative of before running out as soon as possible and coughing and spluttering for 5 minutes.

What a dirty bastard. I think I once saw a mouse in his room. And I once caught him masturbating (but this happened all the time, I still dont understand how people could be so stpid, someone did the evening roll call every day at 2300 without fail). He certainly had wankstains all over his clothes, they couldnt have been anything else. After all, i would know.

I suspect his knobcheese was rather... mature. like stilton mature.
PHWOAR LENGTH
( morrybyte made a subtle namechange at, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:25, Reply)

TrampMan...
I used to work in a supermarket a few years ago on a saturday morning. We used to dread the oncoming sight of SmellyTrampMan (Tm), we had that little to do that we actually set out watch for him and would prepare with every air freshener and lynx can in the shop at the ready. On the odd occasion he slipped our notice, and i am NOT exaggerating, i have seen more than 1 customer retching, a good 10 minutes ater he left the shop or was a good few aisles over! Having to serve him was a nightmare, swear to god i nearly caught rabies from his clawlike fingernails!The weirdest part is he wasnt really a tramp, he lived in a massive overgrown house in a really rich estate nearby! Anyway i digress....length etc
(lithium, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:21, Reply)

We had a Bob in one of my uni houses
Spent most of his time in his dressing gown. If you were in the shower and he needed the loo, he'd bang on the door, and the conversation would go:

"You busy?"
"yes" - is the sound of falling water not a clue?
"that's ok, I'll go in the garden then"

I feared for our neighbours.
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:19, Reply)

I'm with dan j on this
...our office (otherwise full of normal, highly educated professional people) has toilets that often resemble an IRA dirty protest.

They've only ever caught one person at it - a now former employee would wouldn't stop crapping in the hand basins even when asked to stop.

Charming.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:11, Reply)

Not me, but my cousin...
My cousin is a manager for a major telecommunications and internet provider that shall remain nameless. In her earlier days as a team leader, she had the pleasure of managing a middle aged woman who we shall call Andrea for the sake of preserving her skanky integrity. Not only was this woman unspeakably vile in manner, she also had a serious case of what our American friends might call "cooties". Only for real, rather than imaginary girl/boy germs we all get hung up on as kids. By all accounts, she minged on levels that human beings holding down responsible jobs should not be allowed to ming. She had mousy hair that was greasy and lank on account of the lack of washing and black, black grime underneath all her fingernails. Her hands were always filthy and her clothes covered in bits of food and general non-specific stains.

But the icing on the cake was the lice. All over her hair. On a woman of almost 40 years of age.

My cousin came to realise that the reason Andrea's fingernails were always so filthy was because she was constantly scratching her head and picking up what can only be described as nit shit. On one occasion whilst talking to her on work matters, my cousin watched in open-mouthed horror as a louse of almost half a centimetre in length vacated Andrea's hairline and went on a trek across her forehead. You could see the bastard things from feet away they were so big, and once she'd noticed them (and pointed them out to her colleagues, naturally), they realised that her head was pretty much a crawling mass from the hairline up.

After a referral to Personnel she was suspended pending a wash and a serious de-lousing. What makes it even more unbelievable was that she faked a letter from her doctor to say she'd been treated to come back into work when she hadn't been. Even if I'd been chemically peeled in a bath of acid there's no way I would ever return to a workplace from which I was suspended for being a stinky fucker, particularly if I had done nothing to improve my personal hygiene. It would appear she was quite attached to her little friends, and eventually the company had to let her go.

Oh and by the way rogerzilla, can I recommend keeping hold of the paper towel that you used to dry your hands after your toilet soujourn (or a piece of loo roll) to open the door and disposing of it later rather than sullying yourself with other people's door-handle arse-germs? Works for me
(EricPhillips, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:10, Reply)

Erm..
It took until the ripe age of 20 until someone pointed out to me that you were meant to lather up with soap *before* you shaved, and not just put the soap on *afterwards* like I was doing.

So many years of unnecessary pain!
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:10, Reply)

WTF is wrong with people?
I've changed jobs a good few times. Every one has been within a large, "professional" firm of one description or another (including a big 4 accounting firm, one of the larger/well known consultancies, a pension firm - you get the picture). Now, my younger naive self assumed most employed in these firms are generally well educated, polite and normal human beings.

In every single one of these companies I have walked in to the bog on at least once occasion to be greeted by a toilet cubicle with shit all over the seat, cistern handle, floor etc. In my current employer (the consultancy) I've seen it up the walls.

I'm assured by friends in similar professions that they have experienced the same elsewhere.

What the fuck is wrong with these people? I refuse to believe that they can all be put down to accidents. I mean... you've managed to get yourself a degree, get through an interview yet you can't manage to direct a shit into what is quite a large opening without covering several square metres of porcelain/walls in it? I mean for fuck's sake surely you're sat on the bastard thing at the time????!

I look around at my fellow work colleagues and wonder which one of the dirty bastards it is - would love to drag them back in there and wipe it up using their face...

Actually that's reminded me - when I was at college I worked as a cleaner at Boots (Northwich) to pay for cigs/booze etc. One of my duties was to clean the bogs and fuck me if the women weren't the ones who caused me all the work.

I look round the shop floor at the mixture of young teenage girls and older generally well to do and married women in wonder at which of them is happy to shit their kecks and leave them on the floor...

The mind boggles!
( dan j the filthy bastard, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 19:01, Reply)

The main reason my ex husband is my ex husband
is his total and utter lack of hygiene.

At first he was ok, he'd wash every day. Then he stopped brushing his teeth completely, because 'it made them bleed'. This was because where he barely ever brushed his teeth, he had terrible gum disease. His breath always smelt and I had to make him chew gum almost constantly to stop it.

He then stopped showering most days. That didn't help our sex life, which rapidly dropped off on the occasion I discovered knob cheese. I ordered him to the bathroom and refused to do anything more until he had scrubbed himself thoroughly.

It was the skidmarks in the pants that really sealed the deal. Either that or that he never, ever washed up. Even though I did everything else re cooking and cleaning, while he sat on his stinky arse.

I'm glad I walked out on the cunt a long time ago.
(mazzmatazz is messing it up like a blue bottle, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:56, Reply)

I had a mate who refused to wash for years at a time...
He got so bad, his hair practically stuck to his head with huge chunks of grease that looked like dried chip fat. His skin was terrible, the dirt used to flake off him constantly. One time he was in a mates car when he said:

"would you like to see my stomach?"

"no" said they said but he showed them anyway, it was the same colour as the seats in my car, dark grey. They were nearly sick as he peeled the dirt off it like dried pva glue (anyone who arses about in woodwork classes knows what I mean).

Everything he used or touched for more than a few days got this thin brown layer of dirt on it. Eventually he met his partner who refuses to shag him unless he washes once a day, no excuses. He had other personal hygiene problems like not mopping up his jizz from various surfaces. The wallpaper in his first student house had to be replaced...it just had to be
( Bamboo Steamer, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:48, Reply)

Recovering Hippy
For a while in college I went hardcore hippy. The drugs, the lack of bathing, the whole 9 yards. Long story short, after almost a solid year barefoot and bathing, maybe 3 times a month my feet were just a solid crust of grime I'd picked up walking to school and my hair had gone into nasty, stinky white-boy dread-locks. It was rather foul.

Finally at the end of this streak, I was actually asked to leave a Pier 1 furniture store because my odor and appearance were so foul.

It was rather fun blending in with groups of homeless people, though... ah well..
(Poor Leno, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:35, Reply)

And Poo.
With regards to pooing and not flushing, I've had a few interesting conversations about the hygiene issues relating to washing hands in tepid water (that, and eating pub peanuts... eurgh).

I carry alcohol wipes for when I go out.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:35, Reply)

I think the worst I've been...
...was the whole teenager with dirty fingernails and a bit of knob-cheese. The worst I have experienced, was much, much lower than that. And it involves a bit of piss, which is always fun.

I remember it vividly. It was Scout Camp, and we would have been about 13. To protect the not-so-innocent, I'll call him Bob. Bob was well known for being quite rough and ready - he came from a relatively well-to-do family, but he just never seemed to wash.

During one particular night-hike, Bob needed to take a wee, so he did. Talking to us while he did (why? for the love of God why?) he managed to urinate over his t-shirt and trousers. Well done him.

Naturally he grumbled about being damp the whole walk back, and we suitably chided him for it. At camp, we split ways, and just assumed that he would go have a shower.

Oh no.

For the next three days he wore the same shirt, and the same trousers. No one ever saw him anywhere near the shower block, and I don't think it really occurred to anyone to approach him, or at least not until the Scoutmaster (not knowing about the piss misdirection incident) asked him why he was wearing the same clothes three days straight.

"They're the only ones I brought, sir."

Nice. And he didn't even think to wash them.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:33, Reply)

People who shit and don't wash their hands
There are two I can name on our floor at work. You hear the splashes, then the flush, then they come cannoning out of the traps and straight out of the door. Leaving you wondering which part of the door handle they're least likely to have touched.

Why TF don't all toilet doors pull to go in, but push to come out? At least then you could use your foot or something.
(rogerzilla, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:33, Reply)

I hate water
I rarely wash at all. I can go months without washing. I don't like getting wet. Showers are horrible, you get in them, yeah it's nice and warm, then get out and freeze yer tits off. I 'd rather not go down that route thank you very much. Baths same thing, ahhh nice hot bath yes!, then fucking freezing, bollocks to that.
( Bobod Perpetually following through, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:20, Reply)

Saturdays are my protests against Hygiene
I refuse to shower and shave on Saturdays. Lucky if I do so on Sunday. Of course, shaving on Monday morning is like trying to cut down the largest tree in the forest with a herring.
( Foxglove -- it all ends in tears anyway..., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 18:08, Reply)