Whilst I'm not proud of this,
I used to have the worst gut gas in the world as a nipper. On the most memorable occasion, I 'let one float' in the corner of a busy lunchtime classroom. Within five minutes, it had been vacated by 35 members of form 3w.
Two of whom were then sick.
I'm not sure if it was my diet, hormones, intestinal flora or what. But it definitely wasn't user friendly.
No, I wasn't a popular child.
Length? No-one dared venture back in for a full 20 minutes.
( wynoh kills threads by his mere presence, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:58, Reply)

I'm not normally one who gets easily disgusted...
especially not when it comes to personal hygiene, but there was one kid who trumped them all, in my highschool a kid in my class who:
A. did NOT shower
B. Wore the same smelly jacket every day
C. eventually used Deoderent but it somehow made it worse, like the smell of a drunk hobo
D. you could smell him coming almost a block away, no joke
the smell was Atrocious and in all my life the smell was only toped by old rotting meat.
(Rated Arrr for pirates and nudity, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:47, Reply)

My sisters so dirty
she even lets me do her up the arse.
(Fatima Whitbread's hardon drugs and the causes of drugs, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:44, Reply)

Deteriorates
When the mind goes, your priorities in life change

My grandmother's at the stage where the only fears that grip her are being left alone, and falling over. She has severe dementia, and is deteriorating rapidly. It's terrible and incredibly frightening seeing someone you know crumble away before you, unlearn things almost in the same way a child first learns them and become increasingly fearful and paranoid.

It was manageable until she strated to lose control of her bodily functions. Two summers ago I worked as her carer during the summer, doing 72 hour shifts for below minimum wage, then getting home and collapsing, only to then work as a cleaner the next day. Mad. The main problem was trying to do everything with dignity. cleaning and washing her when she was soiled, checking her pad, sponge-baths. She hated it but knew it was necessary. I was glad to be able to help her, glad to work illegal and insane shifts to earn the money, but whenever I when to the toilet afterwards it made me shudder because all I could smell was the smell of her and her soiled clothes.

As is the way with degenerative diseases, this summer she was far worse. I was going to care for her again, do the same shift. I only lasted 10 hours. The regular carer had thought it'd happen so she had someone on standby thankfully, but I just went home afterwards and stared blankly at the space infront of me.

I don't want to get old

apologies for the lack of humour
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:42, Reply)

Bear with me
A few years ago we had a landlady that had teeth that could have opened bottles, and a foetid smell that could make most people feel a bit ocd. In true mix and match style she had the stunning idea that to add to her particular 'bear in heat' whiff she would use 'eau de flowers' to cover it all. It meant a lovely smell of sweat, fags, unbrushed teeth collided with "I'm getting pissed off your aroma" industrial perfume.

Towards the end of our tennancy we discovered that she had weaved a web of lies to Stirling council that meant we were paying her council tax. At first we had been surprised that even with discounts and things for two students and then other half on the dole that the price each month was exorbitant.

The revenge was apt, if pathetic. We left a couple of cracked eggs in a tupper for a couple of months, just until they went lovely and green. When the last person moved out it was opened and the eggs were left out of sight in the loft and on top of the cupboards. When she gets (or got) out of jail I'm sure the flat was easily rentable...

There was talk of leaving a bodily reminder of our tennancy, but I'd moved away to foreign parts and don't know whether anyone had the guts (or platic gloves) to carry it all out. Hope so.
(Tix Keeper of the Smurf, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:32, Reply)

Infant School...
When I was a wee bairn I was 'priviledged' enough to go to a school with it's own swimming pool (read 'indoor pond'... I think it only comes up to my ankles, but I was little back then).

Anyway, I'll not tell you the name of the lad involved, because he'd probably die of shame knowing this was on t'interweb for all to see. If you know the story, then you know the guy involved.

Wednesday was assembly day, and Friday was swimming day... simple enough. One Wednesday we were told there had been 'problems' with the swimming pool and it would be closed until further notice.

Slowly but surely the rumour mill starts turning and all kinds of stories are offered up, but one is more prevalent than the rest...

"The reason there's no swimming is because X pooed in the pool."

... Somehow the story was confirmed as true and it's stuck with the poor lad some 20 years later.

It took 6 weeks for the pool to reopen. SIX WEEKS?! For a poo... it must've been like Moby Dick!!
( SubCulture Hero ... ... He... .... Comes ... ...., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:25, Reply)

I work...
in a well known catalogue shop in the Uk and I am sure EVERYONE who is stuck in retail knows the putrid odours that waft in through the doors sometimes.

Normally it is the classic "I am 90 years old and REEK like an overfilled urinal trough at the West Stand at Ibrox". One bloke complained because he saw one of our sales boys spraying some air freshener after a particularly whiffy customer had left the store. Cunt.

But the other week REALLY took the biscuit. I never found out the culprit but it HAD to be female. Imagine, if you will, taking a pound of three week old prawns, stuck them into the inside of a mouldy salmon carcuss and then popped in it a warm place for a month or so. Al I did was walk across the shop floor and WWAAAFFFTTTT, it hit me. I almost threw up on the spot.

Dirty bastards.! Next person who comes into my shop smelling like that gets kicked out. And I mean that.

(Sorry for length... it could do with a rinse.)
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:25, Reply)

I once got shit all down my back. And nobody told me. Bastards.
I was working in an old folks' home and had to strip a bed, all by myself, which some old dear had comprehensively shat.

Dunno how I did it, but I got it all down my back, on my nice clean uniform which I was hoping to wear again next day without washing. No chance, as I discovered only when I took it off.

Another time, an old geezer managed to sneeze a huge groz onto the top of my head. I had to wash my hair before I could carry on working as the sight made the rest of the staff retch.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:18, Reply)

Let's call her Sally...
For that is almost, but not quite, her name
She's on my university course
She has amazingly bad breath
Hence the nickname "Sally-tosis"
Length? Well, generally about 3 metres away from her does the trick
(The Who Bird is eating Jaffa Cakes on, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:17, Reply)

Co-op again
A dreadful old woman used to come in at the same time everyday, reeking to high heaven of piss, with a great big tidemark on her tights.

Now we used to run off and hide until she had gone. The last one left on the shop floor had to serve her and inhale her ammonia ridden scent, while we all watched on the camera, cackling and pointing like the bitches we were.

This one day, she had filled her basket with a few groceries, and had set it down on the floor. The majority of the staff had smelt her before they had seen her, and had fucked off to hide. Not me. Oh no.

As I walk into the aisle, there she is beckoning me. Fuck it, nowhere to hide.

"Excuse me dear, could you pass me a tin of peas"

Trying not to bring up my lunch,and swathing my head in as much of my shirt as I can, I reach up to grab her a tin of veg when I can hear water running. What the fuck?

Turning round, I can quite clearly see, that not only is she having a wazz, but the dirty old cunt is pissing directly into her basket of shopping.

It was like a sodding elephant, a jet of hot piss soaking her Daily Mirror and splashing up the tins of beans.

Well i did what any trainee manager would do, I fucking legged it, flinging the tin of peas in her general direction, hoping it would knock the filthy old soak out.

Luckily for me, I was saved by Sylvia wielding a mop, who proceeded to successfully flick piss over everything in the first aisle, whilst telling the old witch that she should have asked to use the bog.

She squelched out of the shop without so much as a sorry.
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:15, Reply)

my mate has no sense of smell
and takes great pride in shoving your head in his armpit and asking if he needs a shower.

He always does.
(buggerlugs fold staple mutilate, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 23:04, Reply)

Co-op
Having worked for the Co-op for a good many years, I have encountered all sorts of diseased, filth ridden scutters who haven't seen a bar of soap for weeks, wafting around the aisles, turning the broccoli black and curdling the milk.

My favourite gut churning moment happened when I was working in a particularly rough shop as a management trainee.

The shop was in the middle of a precinct that was home to a million tramps, all swigging their diamond white and smoking bits of old dog ends, but there was one extra special filth merchant that just wore a dinner jacket and a pair of trousers held up with string, and would express his hatred of all the staff quite vocally.

Now it was a hot July day when this grimy fucker decided to have a go at pinching some tramp juice from the shop. We were in the back keeping a beady eye on him on the cameras, up one aisle, down the other, taking his time, when suddenly he stopped.

Zooming in on the dirty scruffer showed a look of intense concentration on his face and he was shuffling from one leg to the other. Then, without warning a torrent of shit and piss hurtled out of his trouser leg, and covered the floor and most of the bread shelves.

Well fuck.

The security guard nearly gipped up his dinner, and the manager turned green.

The tramp on the other hand, shook what was left out of his Farahs, dipped a finger up his ring to wipe off the sweetcorn and scuttled out of the shop, taking a packet of coco pops as an afterthought.

30 litres of bleach, 6 mopheads and 11 packets of jay cloths later it was gone, sluiced up by a tearful cleaning girl.

We never did get the coco pops back.
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 22:59, Reply)

Wipe the fucking seat!!
It never ceases to amaze me when I use public loos, even ones in places like the RAH, how many seats have wee on them. For fuck's sake! You're grown women; you should know by now to mop up any drops you might leave.

Some women say they squat and hover above public loos because they're scared of the seat-germs. You know why there are seat-germs? It's because of people like YOU! You spatter over it like a UFO from the planet Wee-Wee (to borrow a phrase from jujuzarf) and then leave your pissdrips all over it. If you just sat down there wouldn't be a problem. If you're really that worried about germs lay down a few squares of paper first.
There's another good reason for not squatting besides hygiene: when hoversquatting not all the wee can escape your urinary tract, leading to infections. Sit down so your chuff spreads all the way open.

I'm fucking sick of having to mop up strangers' piss before I can sit down. What do these filthy gunges do at home? Leave it there to crystallise? Aaaaargh! Wipe the fucking seat!

If the cubicle's been newly-vacated I always want to call after the chick who just left it and tell her to wipe the seat so I can use it, but by the time one's opened the cubicle door and registered the piss the offender has usually gone out of sight. One day I'll catch one of the piss-spinklers... one day.

</rant>

As for me:
- I once didn't wash my hair for 2 months. Just as an experiment to see what would happen - I kept the rest of me clean. What happened was that my mum told me to wash my hair because I looked a twat.
- You know those little birds that hop around in a crocodile's mouth and pick out all the detritus around its teeth? The croc gets clean teeth and the birds get free food. I used to have the same relationship with my rat, Clicquot. She'd stick her furry little head in my mouth (like a lion-tamer's routine but mini and with roles reversed) and lick off all the gunk around my braces. Neither of us suffered any ill-effects.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 22:58, Reply)

foolish rat snogging
A long time ago i had a pet rat, she lived on me and would go everywhere with me. She developed a cute trick of clinging onto my bottom lip and licking my teeth. I thought this was fun and very sweet until one day my entire mouth turned into a confluent mass of weeping ulcers - so bad that it hurt to breathe, never mind eat or drink. Smelt rank too. Lasted for a week or so and the doctor laughed me out of his surgery when i told him that i thought it was from my rat.

Also, i am a growed up teacher now and we used to have a kid who would shit himself on purpose becuase he 'liked the way it squsihed'. We had to rearrange all seating plans so he was sat as much by himself as possible and he had a special chair that no other children would use. THis is secondary school btw, he was 14.
(bambambambambam, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 22:46, Reply)

Oh christ...
The place? High school

Specified place - year 11 toilets.

Well...at my high school there are 'special' toilets for the year 11's, so we have the brilliance of having our own loo's.
I say they were ours, but in retrospect everybody used them...everybody.
Now, normally i try to avoid these at all costs as these toilets are smaller, more cramped and have a smell which can only be compared to sticking your head inside a tramp who's pissed himself, vomited repeatedly on himself, has taken several wanks, not showered for at least 10 years and has been running around on a summers day as hot as a thousand suns, arse crack.
and shat himself.
and is laughing at you while you're doing it, in order to make you feel twice as shit as you already do...

*haarr harr harrkkgghhbble...*

They are fucking disgusting, and every time i've been in there, inside one of the cubicles there is always (ALWAYS) a nasty floater which some complete twunt hasn't had the decency to flush. There are no windows, so it's all artificial lighting - picture the scene from Saw, where the guy wakes up and is chained down, it's pretty much that kind of atmosphere minus the leg sawing (which would only make it more comfortable) - and the only way the smell can escape is through the door into the end of the main corridor (which is amazingly where the most disgusting teacher is situated, but i'll tell you about him when theres another qotw about teachers...), so the entire southern end of the school stinks like piss and stale shit and vomit.

OH and the floor of the room is a downward slope, so in the end cubicle there's a collective pool of piss and fag ends and the natural grime that is expected in such a shack of evils...
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 22:00, Reply)

Canine tongue
Reading Rookie,s post I suffer from athletes feet in the summer and used to have a dog wqho would spend a good hour licking in between my toes when my feet were bad, used to clear it up a treat...I know that dogs aren,t the most hygenic ,but the fucking itching of athletes feet, soon took my mind of it.........As for length it went between my toes nicely
(andycrass loves two hats on, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:56, Reply)

omg
i knew someone at school who didn't wash or brush. It got so bad that when he smiled at you there was this layer of mould around the tops of his teeth....

this girl at uni smells of onions and refuses to do anything about it...
( schizophrenic_sheep, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:50, Reply)

used to be
a techie at college whos dandruff was so bad his glasses were permanently smeary with the grease that used to fall of his head. Never knew his name. we called him Snowy. Whenever you spoke of snowy, everyone knew who you were on about. "snowy? the techie on the 5th floor?"

Yep!
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:50, Reply)

How dare you fart before the Prime Minister?....I'm sorry, I didn't know it was his turn
Wannabe world statesman Tony Blair would no doubt be flattered some by a comparison with Winston Churchill. However, it is sadly not for his fine leadership of a country in crisis, or indeed for his highly developed oratory abilities, but for a singularly well-kept secret previously known only to his cabinet chums and the odd unfortunate visiting dignitary.
It's a well-known fact in political circles that Tony Blair is possessed of the most chronic, dead-rat corpse smelling, evil flatulence known to mankind. Apparently Winston was a real stinky arse too, probably down to the suet puddings and guinness. Tony, it is conjectured, owes his rear turbulence to the experimental 'new age' diets Cherie keeps thinking up for him, particularly the cabbage and prune juice smoothies she puts in his lunch box.
A rare photograph of the downloading of one these political brownwares can be seen here;

news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/940223.stm

you will note the astonishment of John Prescott, amazed that his mild bitter and tripe pie fueled parping has been trumped by a southern jessie, while Tony just makes a laugh out of his mouth.

Length? about 3.7 seconds apparently, but the microphone didn't pick it up
(bollox, not again, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:48, Reply)

climbing trips can be long...
...and smelly.

Over in france for a week or so. the bogs on site were rank, so it was better to shit in the woods where the bouldering was. The showers at camp were crap to. So after a while climbing in the sunshine, a group of blokes in the mini bus on the way home got a bit minging. If you drink so much that your permanently pissed, you get used to the smell.

I did take a dump down the shower drain tho at the campsite in protest of the conditions. Made me feel better anyway, maybe not for the next poor sod who went in after me....

...and a girl I saw for a while allways had a wiffy minge. She wouldnt give me head, so i refused the daily fish portion from her. Later i learned she had shagged the best part of yorkshire and gave me genital warts. She was a good fucking shag tho. she could never get enough!
(i AM that masked man Book him Tonto, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:41, Reply)

Lavender... oh god, lavender
My mum worked for the old Westminster Hospital, and used to get me a file-monkey job in the school holidays. And down in the basement, among the patient notes, dwelt Morlock Woman.

She reeked. But not of relatively normal body fluids, no. The closest I can describe it is lavender talcum powder, but concentrated to Zyklon-B levels. I'm really really not kidding; this was the worst smell I have still ever smelt off any human being and I'm a Tube commuter and used to tramps marinating in months-old piss, businessmen who've obviously worn the same suit all heatwave without benefit of deodorant and the guy I'm convinced was possessed by a demon because nothing human could simultaneously smell of rot and honey. You have to imagine her odour as a solid aura of granny-from-hell that coated your breathing passages in stinking chalkiness from the end of the corridor. She must have had geological layers of the stuff on. It permeated her. And it permeated you, if you were anywhere near her or where she'd been. Normal human stenches were a bouquet after smelling Helen.
(littlesunshine licked your blinky diodes on, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:40, Reply)

Let's call him Jimmy
Cashell, for that was his name.

Year 10 Mathematics, baking august heat, and windows that wouldn't open. Then the new kid, James Cashell, walks in looking either:

A) Disorientated.
B) Stoned.

And the only empty seat was next to me. He sat down and this nasty, pungent wave of shit and fag smoke hit me. And, judging from my mate's facial expression, it hit him, too.

It honestly made me want to vomit. Then he spoke to me and I just felt even worse. I never spoke to him again, and always, ALWAYS found somewhere to sit without him.

[EDIT]: I also used to live with a Spanish girl. Her name was Maria, and she used to just pile her used sanitary towels/tampons up in the bin in the shared bathroom. Coupled with her putting the heating up to 23 degrees celcius in July, this made for a very unpleasant smell.
(Kibbles, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:37, Reply)

Military Field Trips
As a former US Marine I have several hygiene stories...despite being a very clean guy, once you are deployed into the field, be it a real deployment or an FTX (Field Training Exercise) you dont always have showers available.

The American Southeast Coast. August. Swamp. Marines. Damp. Leeches.

No matter how tightly you blouse your trousers in your boots and cinch your belt, the leeches will find their way to your tackle. And they are NOT fun to remove.

Add to this that swamp mud packs a stink wallop as nasty as any August dog dookie.

The showers I would take upon return from the field were marathons.

The only benefit? When you are a Platoon Leader and you are in the same crap with your Marines, everyone smells the same and you dont really notice it...for the most part.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:34, Reply)

A local radio station
had a contest while I was in grade school in which the contestants were asked to wear a t-shirt with the station logo on it. The trick was that they were not supposed to remove the shirt for a month; not to sleep, bathe, work, etc.

I noticed that the cook at my school cafeteria was wearing one of these shirts for a few weeks...
(rocketship s can be used to leave the Earth., Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:25, Reply)

My old manager
for the company I still work for, had the worst feet in the world. He lived in Sheffield, and often ended up staying in Nottingham over night in a hotel because it was pointless going home. But he never thought about bringing spare clothes with him.
One night we all went round our work-mates house for dinner. He took his shoes off to reveal bare feet. He hadnt been home in three days by then.
He was banned from the house by all the house mates.

And
I used to get the 5.55am bus into town to start my shift. And without fail, three stops down from me this man would get on. He had three back packs and various carrier bags of stuff with him. He was clearly homeless, and everyone he passed on the bus would retch. It was a kind of death/piss smell. He must have lived in the woods or something...
(KellieFo zomgz11!, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:22, Reply)

Lets call him Ric
for that was his name.
A house mate at uni, smelt of piss. This was mainly due to us all pissing on his clean washing.
( SiX and his hat, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:16, Reply)

Uni Students
A guy at our uni, who will remain nameless insists on growing his hair...then never washing it.

But the worst thing has to be that he's quite sporty but as he holds down 3 jobs he doesn't have time to wash after these sports. The result its that he smells of Walkers Salt and vinegar crisps, and not in a good way.

He once tried to grow a beard but instead of being brown, like the rest of his hair, it grew ginger! Maybe he was ginger and that his hair was brown because of the dirt...
(purplefairy, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:14, Reply)

Lets call him Daniel Bews
for that was his name. In year eight (12 or 13 years of age) he shat himself in our history class.
From then on he was Daniel Poos.
( SiX and his hat, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 21:08, Reply)

Unclean
I used to work in a Public Analysts lab in Manchester. From time to time members of the public would ring to have this or that analysed or commented on.
One such call fits this thread and god I wish it didn't. A local reporter was running a story on a lady who had lived alone for some thirty years bar the company of a succession of cats. He called with what he believed to be a health problem and would I mind speaking to her social worker? Happy to help I agreed.
The social worker came on the line and announced the lady in question to be "somewhat disorientated and imbalanced". All very interesting but not something I could assist with. Then came the issue.
She had had regular baths but had not washed her hair in some ten years. Now you don't need to wash your hair with soap; rince it and keep it clear of interfering partickes and it'll clean itself (no that's not a joke). That said if you decide to keep nuggets of kitty litter bits of flea collar, tuffs of cat hair, scraps of cat food and (deep breath) the occasional treasured part of a dear departed kitty in your hair, the result is a bit of a mess. I was asked what I'd recommend to try and clean this.
I mumbled something about using a succession of showers with steadily increasing detergent strengths; it was all my overstressed brain could come up with.
I declined the offer to assist.
Sad and very true.
(DustyD, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 20:58, Reply)