Smelly Jim
Jim smelled. Really badly.

He was in his forties, and worked in our IT department. Fortunately he sat at the other end of the office, but you could always tell when he was nearby by the fetid stink that preceded him, enveloping the entire office.

Beige trousers and sports jacket - permanently stinking and grimy from never being washed. Unwashed, lengthy, straggly hair. Teeth like tombstones.

You could always tell when Jim had had a bath - it was the talk of the office.

We were all going on a night out one Friday after work. A group of us headed down to the changing rooms to get showered and changed before the big night out.

Picture the scene. 7 or 8 guys, all just out of the shower (steady now). All smelling of nice fragrant shower gels, deodourants, and after shaves. All very nice.

Then smelly Jim enters the room. The air instantly turns foul. All our good work is undone! Blurgh.

Unbelievably, Jim then precedes to remove all of his smelly clothes, and enter the shower. Shock of shocks! Jim is bathing! Incredible!

However, he emerges from the shower, and then puts all of his smelly clobber back on! WTF?

Mrs Fister met me in the pub later on to give me a lift home. She spies Smelly Jim across the pub and says to me "What the fuck is that! Why does he only have half a tooth?"

"That's not half a tooth my sweet, it's just black and rotting, that's all"

"Barf. Let's get the hell out of here!"
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Fri 23 Mar 2007, 10:44, Reply)