The hell of Norwich
I had the unfortunate experience to have worked with a bloke, who was known as Smelly. He was a lovely chap, but never washed and never used deoderant (said it gave you cancer). For work, we had to move out of London & I shared a house with Smelly and my other boss. We made sure he had the room with en-suite bathroom. Which he never used. We bought him a bed - he put the mattress on the floor & slept on it in a sleeping bag, with his dog. He didn't change the sheets once in 3 months - when we left, they were black. He lived on tinned mussells and such like and used to leave the semi-empty cans all over the house. He never washed up. His stench was so acrid I used to walk to work rather than get in a car with him. Our office mates told him he stank - he denied it & told them they had problems. Best bit was when he wore his new leather trousers in the summer (every day for weeks) - the acrid miasma was almost visible - he was pigpen. Every now & then when I catch the smell of festering drains, I think of him... I've never been so glad to have been made redundant. Mind you, he had competition. I was in a cab with a driver who used to drive Vanessa Feltz. He told me she stank to high heaven. Which is nice.
( parttimebabe is almost there..., Fri 23 Mar 2007, 17:56, Reply)