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This is a question Personal Hygiene

There comes a point at which your hygiene becomes less your problem and more everyone else's:

My old school nurse never seemed to wash - instead she wrapped herself in crepe bandages from the first aid kits. The smell was beyond pungent. If you got ill at school, it was better to suffer than try and explain symptoms whilst only breathing out.

When she was eventually 'let go',they had to strip the wallpaper in her office to get rid of the lingering odour.

How scuzzy have you got? Or, failing that, how bad have people you know got?

(, Thu 22 Mar 2007, 12:40)
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This question is now closed.

Why, oh why
am I clicking "I like this" on all the posts? Am I that filthy?

Oh the humanity.

RE: Queen Vcitoria's vest, I don't know anything about her, but I have several times had to soak/peel/cut off clothing that a patient's skin had grown into. Gah.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 15:14, Reply)
Posh Car launch
A few weeks back I was invited to attend the launch of the hideous "new" Porsche Cayenne - yes, the one described by the mad Mayor of London as "driven by fucking idiots".

As you can probably imagine, this was quite a plush affair with wandering temptresses armed with posh party food and the obligatory free bar. Whilst contemplating exactly why this car is so hideously ugly (yet technically brilliant) I was accosted by a floppy haired young oik with sleek black namebadge. At around the same time, a stench of unclean armpits wafted into my nasal receptors. Whilst nodding sagely at his banter trying to establish where this repugnant odour was coming from, I caught the eye of a young lady around 30 feet or so away. She'd obviously been speaking to the salesboy earlier and mouthed "kitchen, e-sticks", which met my quizzical response. She then repeated this phrase with a more pronounced mouth, leaning forward slightly with slightly bigger eyes - "kitchen, e-futch-een-sticks". Completely ignoring the salesboy now, I turned my head slightly and cupped my ear to hear her repeat "IT'S HIM, HE FUCKING STINKS" just as the crowd noise appeared to drop to a whisper.

Not quite sure who was more embarrassed, stinky, not-so-posh-bird or the blind bespectacled designer responsible for the ugly fat car who had just taken to the rostrum to talk about his fabulous creation.

I can only conclude that in a misguided attempt to counter the environmental effects of the car, stinky salesboy had decided not to use deodorant that evening.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 15:13, Reply)
A girl i used to know
This is the first time i've ever posted on the boards but reading through this QOTW i felt i needed to contribute.
i used to know this girl and oh god she stank.
she went to my primary and my high school.
my first story isnt about her stink but about what once happened on a school trip back in year 6. we were put into groups for orienteering. i ended up in a group with my best friend and the girl.
at one point i was alone with this girl so i told her that if she really needed to go to the toilet she could just go in the bushes. i dont know why i said this to her, i guess i thought it was funny at the time.
all thought of the conversation with the girl forgotten we were happily walking back towards the meeting point down a small path when my friend stopped and told me to turn around.
when i turned around all i could see was this girl standing in the middle of the path pissing THROUGH her trousers (and she had extremely hairy bits for a 10 year old). we just screamed a lot then actually did something about it.
i admitted to my friend what i had said and she laughed for a while, then we asked her why she did it through her trousers, apparently her mother did it as well...
while she got changed we managed to tell everyone, but about half an hour after that we were made to say we lied and everyone hated us for picking on the weird kid...
anyway, back to personal hygiene, this girl obviously had none. fast forward to high school, girls changing rooms:
"GOD IT STINKS IN HERE"
"WHO SMELLS LIKE THAT"
etc etc, all the girls did it, and all the girls knew it was that girl, but everyone felt sorry for her at the same time. i mean, she was so slow.
ive just realised this isnt really that relevant but its funny so ill post it anyway.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 15:00, Reply)
Cracking one off into the sock
Maybe they do it cos its a 'footish'.

Dear oh dear..

Personally, I have enough cheese going on in that region as it is, I dont need stilton encrusted feet dressings to encourage and amplify the stench.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 14:18, Reply)
smelt of sausages :-S
I was 12 or so when our form teacher had a baby and we got stuck with this wonderful sub for two months. He had long manky hair and wore skin tight red leather trousers. But the best thing about him (note the sarcasm!) was the way he smelt of sausages. Nobody dared ask him for help in case he came over to your desk...

In the last lesson on Saturday (this was Switzerland, we had school every Saturday), we'd all sit in a circle and we were encouraged to discuss things that were bothering us. After much discussion in the break before the lesson one brave soul dared to ask him why he smelt of sausages (nothing personal, just curious...). He was rather surprised, there was no reason he should smell of sausages as far as he was concerned. Just the one small detail: he was fundamentally opposed to SOAP! Of course, everyone knows soap is EVIL!!!
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 14:17, Reply)
I've never understood...
why anyone would want to crack one off into a sock.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:53, Reply)
warmed up spunk socks
A flat mate of mine use to fling his used jizzsocks onto his radiator. the smell of dried heated spunk use to drift downt the stairs to the living room. not nice.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:40, Reply)
Rapidly going off
This QOTW is getting a bit ripe, don't you think? Time for a new one surely?
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:40, Reply)
got to be honest...
my nob stinks of rich organzola.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:23, Reply)
the local girls' school
they're all dirty.

Dirty little girls.

Dirty little tarts.

Dirty dirty dirty dirty dirtydirtydirtydirtyHUUUUUUHHH!

I'll wash that later.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:18, Reply)
Nurses accomodation.
Just moved into our halls of residence )lovely old Victorian bin, now a housing estate) and as we are investigating our rooms we hear a yell from one of the adjoining rooms - a few of us wander over to see a bloke with a pair of female knickers, covered in blood (presumably of the old menstrual brand) which he'd found down the back of the radiator. He hurriedly threw them in a rubbish bag and washed his hands, whilst a colleugue muttered "Why did he throw them away. We could have kept them and smelt them".
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 13:03, Reply)
pissy mary
right....we were kids and there used to be this family whose surname I shan't mention.

They had a daughter who went to secondary with my brother...her name was mary and always used to smell of wee. One time she wet herself at the bus-stop and forever was known as pissy mary.

Not an amazing story that....but the rest is.

She used to have a brother called John. Now he was a strange lad, he played with toys way beyond the age that children should do. He talked to himself a lot and did not have many (well, any) friends. But he constantly talked about his scalectrix set. He said it was the biggest ever and took up two rooms in his house.

Now, I am a thirteen year old lad, that sort of thing would pique my interest. If I was to be honest, it still does (hypocrisy alert!). So one time, myself and two others decided to go see it. He was ecstatic with glee - and proceeded to take us to his house, a normal terrace house.

Now his parent's were in the salvation army and while I have always appreciated the role that they play in being a help for the homeless and destitute, wearing their uniforms at all times bordered on the creepy. They had an older sister, whose name escapes me, who was also in the sallies and when we entered the house they were all in backroom in full dress practicing on their brass instruments. Nothing wrong with that at all.

The problem was that the front room had essentially been given over to their dogs and in one corner was dog food piled high (no dish) and in the other, the stench of faeces was overpowering...I gagged while John basically jumped on the pets that he adored. There was no furniture in this room.

He eventually showed us this scalextrix....it ran indeed from two rooms...his and his two sisters. It truly was amazing...he'd used extra power (transformers??) and the cars worked a treat. The problem here was that it appeared to be a permanent fitting in the house, so the carpet around it was littered with dog hair, old food and dirty clothes. I think the used tampons was the worst (although I didnt know what they were at the time).

Anyway, after playing for twenty minutes, and feeling itchy and unclean for most of it, I felt a compelling need to leave. This was when John said 'awww but mommy has made you food.' This escalated the need to leave at least tenfold, especially as the food - a bacon buttie - was served on a stainless stell pot-lid. This was when him having dogs paid off hehehe.

We left that house and I told my mother about it, she never let me go there again.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 12:58, Reply)
Christophe..
...was my mum's friend's lodger some time ago, and although I never met him personally, I don't see this as a bad thing. Amongst the usual filthy behaviour (i.e. piles of rubbish left in his room, unchanged spunk encrusted sheets and so on) there were two things that really, ahem, stood out about this man.

Après wank, he used to collect his man juices in a tub by his bed. Now having read the rest of the thread, apperently this isn't as uncommon as I'd thought, but if someone can explain why they would want gone-off jizz by the side of their bed, let me know. Because it smells bad.

But his idea of intimate hygiene left a lot to be desired. If he was going out on the pull with the intent of schmoozing up a ladyfriend, he would freshen up his nether regions....

with Glade Touch'n'Fresh.

Air Freshener + sweaty cock and balls - showering = yuk. Like when someone tries to cover up BO with Lynx, but with a flowery smell. Apparently he wasn't very pleasant to sit next to...

Length? Irrelevent. No woman ever wanted to find out...
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 12:58, Reply)
Manky engineers...
I do various work restoring old machinery, and most folk I meet are fine. But one or two are utterly repulsive.
The Twingos seem to style their hair in axle grease, and never shave. They never seem to wash either. Coupled with an often arrogant attitude, they can never understand why they lack job or girlfriend.
B is another character. An OK bloke, retired fairly wealthy. Unfortunatley he never washes either, and looks like he is rotting away. In fact, he has lost a leg to diabetes aggravated by excess alcohol. Has a camper van that is the most disgusting vehicle I have ever been in.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 12:30, Reply)
dirty thoughts
I didn't always wash every day until a few years ago, I figured as long as I didn't smell it was ok. Now I try to, I think it's psychologically important to be under water every day. Maybe the Christians and the Muslims have the right of it with the whole baptism / wudu / ablutions thing. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how much I completely fail to achieve my appointed tasks, at least I’m clean every day. Except today, when I snoffed my alarm by accident, (hit stop instead of snooze) and woke up too late to get in the shower. I feel rough as, and not just because I was up too late playing with photoshop for that damn comp.

Men don’t seem to realise that women have a very rarified sense of smell and we are not turned on by staleness. I can barely breathe when I’m with one of my mates, and have been known to ask “Did something die and rot in here…? Oh no, it’s just Dan” (aka Stinky Dan, Fat Dan, Ginger Dan, or on occasions, Big Fat Stinky Ginger Dan). He smells. Bad. I’m sure all of Leeds must feel nauseous. Dan, if you are reading this, I love you, but sort it out mate. You reek. You too, Tommy Smooth. Chicks might dig scars, but they don’t go for skank. Wash your clothes as well as your person. Especially if you want someone to put that in her mouth.
Hear me now.

One of my mates at uni was a total stinkfiend. We once had to gang up on him because he smelled so bad. Someone ran a bath and then we took a leg / arm each and threw him in., fully-clothed. He just sat there sulking in his wet hippy rags – I had to wade in and wash him in the end. Skinny monkey boy had sores in nasty places.
He'd sod off to India every winter and live in ditches getting wasted with skanky hippies. One time he came back with the usual amount of gear up his arse, and having performed his act of expulsion & reclamation, settled down to veg on the sofa in front of the TV. It was only several hours later after a procession of people had been round to say hello again that he announced “Oh yeah, I think I might have head lice, maybe fleas too, I’m not sure, there is definitely something living on me”. Bastard. I shaved his head... as I cut each dread off I could hear the tiny rain of parasites falling onto the kitchen floor. Still makes my skin crawl to think about it.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:31, Reply)
Dirty Duvet
A long, long time ago I was living and working in London. Whilst visiting some friends from home we used to regularly wonder about the mysterious moving duvet that lived in my friends squalid but sunny squat.

Every day when she would leave the house her duvet was on her bed but every night she got home it had moved half way across the floor. All rational explanations for this were ruled out. It being a rather temporary squat for young Irish students not much was really thought about it I suppose. This particular duvets origins were unknown. Nobody knew who bought it or how long it had been there or indeed when or how it had appeared and indeed apart from its rambling nature and some curious staining not much was thought of it – I mean it was a dirty squat anyway.

It came to pass that some overly curious individual decided to investigate further and found out something which nearly 20 years later still makes my stomach flip. The duvet in question was one enormous breeding ground for some type of bug. The bugs used to follow the sun around the room and so the sheer volume of bugs was able to physically move the duvet across the room following the path of the sun.

The poor individual who used to sleep with this fetid blanket of bugs was later to remark that no other duvet would ever be the same as the bugs predilection for warmth meant that whilst sleeping the duvet “used to hug her back” was the way she put it.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:18, Reply)
i had a friend in school
who we used to jokingly mock saying he smelled of piss and such.
he must have been really REALLY gullible because eventually he actually did start smelling of piss. so much so that when he came over to my house even my mam said he stunk.

although, she did wait til he had left before she said that.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:09, Reply)
Scary Stank Monster
I go to uni with a very well natured individual with nothing that would give cause for dislike, except for an extremely unpleasant odour. Now I've smelled worse in my lifetime, and it definitely doesn't have the intensity of the rather foul sounding assualts to the senses that have been detailed thus far.

However, he's a heavy bloke who walks strangely and has a lazy eye that occasionally moves entirely independently of the other, and also the smell is very much apparant as soon as you meet him(it also has the odd effect of becoming more noticeable the longer you're around him rather than less).

Anyway this combination mixed with an unusually enthusiastic type of personality, was rather poorly received one day when he asked a woman on the street for directions to the bank. She responded by screaming, spraying mace into his face and running away leaving him to lay on the ground writhing in pain until he was able to see again. Really, it's a pretty nasty thing to happen to a nice guy and it seems perhaps this woman shouldn't be carrying this stuff around with her if she sees attackers on every street corner (I think it's also of dubious legality) but I just couldn't help but find this storey intensely amusing.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:09, Reply)
ALSO....
People who go commando...

even though i shower every day, I change my crackers every day also...

do you, people who wear NO underwear (obviously because it makes you sound cool), change your trousers/jeans every day? DIDN'T THINK SO!
.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 11:00, Reply)
Opposite Story
Now this isn't so much somone smelling bad at all, but it does relate to a smell.

In essence it's women. All of you.

Well, not all of you....

The office I'm in has questionable air conditioning so even I'm forced to suppress my body gases. (Sorry).

So when a woman the other side of the office sprays about £400 of expensive perfume all over her (about 3 times a day) the smell doesn't so much waft around the room, it more hangs heavy in the air, like a big dark cloud - slowly drifting towards everyone else who take lungfuls of this perfume/air mix and choke.

Worse yet

When she walks past you - you get a second hit which is like someone's jabbed a sodding great fork up your nose too.

It's not just her though, there's 2 of them that do it in varying degrees of "we're going to kill you" levels.

Meh
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 10:53, Reply)
Sweat the bed
A relative of mine is the only obese speed-freak that I know of. The combination of amphetamines and carrying his excess baggage leads to him perspiring in vast quantities, he is even known as “sweaty”, to some people.

After his long weekend binges, he would return home to his parents’ house in the same clothes that he was wearing when he left on Thursday, then jump into bed, fully clothed, under a thick duvet, and sleep for two days.

His parents eventually had to dispose of his sweat-sodden mattress, buy a new one, and fit it with waterproof covers.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 10:36, Reply)
haha, I'm going to make you all boke
I've just realised that I have the perfect story for this QOTW.

I took one summer whilst at uni and fucked off to Florida with it. Six weeks of sun, sand, booze and the most successful period of pulling I have ever experienced. Ever.

My friend and I started off in New Orleans (this was in 2001, so I didn't need to bring any wellies) and then decided to travel to Clearwater in Florida on a Greyhound bus. I'd say the trip was about 8 hours long, all in. Which wasn't too bad, really. Until we got to Mobile, Louisiana.

Then a big fat man got on. With a tshirt that he'd cut off above his gut so it wobbled about in plain view. The rest of his shirt was already dark with rancid sweat. As soon as he got on, the smell was overpowering. But that wasn't the worst thing about him, oh dearie me, no.

The worst thing was the clear plastic bag perched on top of his gut. It was half full of a greeny-brown, viscous substance. It was a colostomy bag. A half-full colostomy bag.

We were a little revolted by it, but at that point it was night, the air conditioning was on and we were far more concerned about the BO. Then, as we approached Jacksonville, at about the halfway point of our trip, the sun came up.

An interesting thing about colostomy bags is that unless changed regularly, they don't really deal with heat particularly well. All the urine and excrement and whatever else inside it starts to pong a touch. This was August. In Florida.

An interesting thing about the human nose is that it will filter out its own body smell, no matter how repellant, if it is a constant.

An interesting thing about Greyhound buses is that they make rest stops pretty frequently. They also stop to pick up more passengers.

An interesting thing about air conditioning in vehicles is that when the engine stops, so does the A/C.

The heat climbed and climbed with the sun. The stench got worse and worse. The air conditioning started to struggle to keep the temperature down. My face was starting to turn green. Everybody had gone quiet, clearly trying to control their breathing. The man got up and started to walk down the coach towards us. We realised with horror that we were sat just forward of the toilets.

He walked past and the smell was...unreal. I may have fainted. It stuck in my throat, it got in my eyes, I was retching openly along with everybody else within a two row range. It stuck to my clothes, it was in my mouth.

He didn't change the bag. He came back out with it still on him. We had to put up with it for a further three hours as the clock slowly moved towards noon. It was awful. Utterly awful.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 10:23, Reply)
Queen minger
Anyone else heard the story about Queen Victoria? Apparently, when she died and they were preparing her for burial, they discovered that she wore a vest. She hadn't taken it off for years and it had actually been partially absorbed into the skin of her body. They had to cut it off her.

And she was the fecking queen! Imagine what the poor commoners must have looked and smelled like.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 10:09, Reply)
cockatoopoo
In the 1990's at my v posh boarding school, a veritable breeding ground for nice young ladies, there was one particular housemistress who stood out. A single lady of a certain age, she lived alone in a flat in the school with her pets. Two dogs, which ensured her flat and self were always carpeted in dog hair, and two cockatoos. She had the biggest breasts imaginable, and each morning the cockatoos positioned themselves on each breast, one on the left, one on the right. Throughout the day, as she wandered through the school, a steady drip drip drip of bird poo meant that by the end of the day her red jumper (I think she only had one) was absolutely drenched in this excrement. The jumper often had second and third outings before washing. The housemistress was of course completely oblivious to the absolute revulsion of her young charges, and wondered why we all recoiled when she tried to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight (but perhaps that is another issue altogether). What is it about teachers???
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 10:07, Reply)
The return of the stinker...
I've worked in Education for a few years now as a tech support bod so as you can imagine I've come across a wonderous and varied cross section of life. Somewhere deep in the West Midlands, whereupon I was granted an office in the engineering block of a large FE college, I was made aware of an odorous offender called James. Now, don't get me wrong here, James was a bit hindered in the old grey matter, and despite this was a wizz with electronics. Seriously, this guy used to bring in TV's older then me he'd fixed. But James had a problem.
James probably hadn't taken a bath since, well, ever. You'd smell the guy coming WAY before you'd see him. We lived on the first floor of said block, and due to the wonders of osmosis, could aid ourselves in hiding...not that it ever did us much good mind, as James had radar for finding one electrical technician in particular, and I happened to share an office with said chap. Poor Mr H, I still feel sorry for him now...what made it worse, is James used to turn up on the hottest day of the year without fail.
Worst time I can imagine, one Thursday in the hight of summer. Sun shining, windows open, birds singing, peach of a day...then, from beneath the door, comes the waft of creeping death. Seriously, it was an indescribable smell, a heady mix of stale b.O. ammonia, solder rosin and wet dog with a hint of arse nugget. Me and Mr H looked at each other and dived for the lock, culling the lights and hitting the deck in total silence. The smell is getting stronger, footsteps are coming closer...then comes the call:
MISTER H**P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BANG BANG BANG goes our door, bouncing off it's plinth.
We remain in silence.
Again, BANG BANG BANG.
MISTER H**P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm now choking on this guys fettered attire and he ain't even in the room yet.
This goes on for five minutes. I'm now desperate for a piss. Then, muffled voices down the corridor! Huzzah! Other people!!!!
That doesn't stop James though. He asks where Mr H is, and a kind person points out he's defiantly in his office. At this point, the door is tried and we are forced to open it...and there he stands. It's 23 degrees outside, and James is wearing an overcoat that was so thick you could have crossed the North Pole in it, a clutch of carrier bags full of old PCB and by god, the most offensive breath this side of a barrel full of vaginosis infected swabs. I make my excuses and leg it, the smell still fresh in my nostrils, to the sanctuary of another office far far away.
Apparently he stayed for two hours despite being asked to leave several times...security escorted him away in the end. Took us three days to fumigate the office....
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 9:57, Reply)
pepe le phew
There are some people who have a genuine medical condition that makes them ronk. If they are also a little slapdash on the washing and clothes washing, .....erm let me out of here.

Unfortunately the victim I worked with was quite a decent person in other respects, but the combination of vintage socks and that sickly sweet smell bringing to mind decaying flesh was a sometimes overpowering reason to get out of the room.

Because of aforementioned ok-ness elsewhere, only subtle hints were passed his way, which went completely over skunky`s head.

The business being 24/7 we were in one weekend and there was a bugs bunny loony tunes festival on the TV. He had left his charcoal blazer ( also referred to as a skunky`s shroud) on a chair at lunchtime and one brave soul had put two stripes of white gaffer/camera tape down its back, having been inspired by the cartoons.

Skunky didn`t get this, and went around telling everyone that someone had done this and he didnt understand why it was to snorts of laughter, we had all been watching the telly and it had shown several episodes of pepe le phew. I was in tears.

In a moment of alcoholic clarity I ventured that his stinkiness was due to his wife being german, and when she had said " into zer showers" he had got a bit scared.
Anonymous presents of soap on a rope in his pigeon hole elicited "someones left me a package and its got soap in, why would they do that?" NOOOO! because you stink matey!
He never got it, even continual references to our fragrant friend here went right over his head.

I`ve met colleagues who he has worked with subsequently and:

" he`s really good at his job, he`s a nice bloke but........"
" let me venture, as a random guess...he stinks like a sailors cock on a sunday morning?"
"Yeah!"
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 9:53, Reply)
Drink
I don't like people that drink to excess - my Gran does it and she's a washed up drunken bag of bones - who strangely enough can give up drink for lent then is back on a whisky a day.

A bottle of whisky that is.

Anyhoo

I used to be an IT testing manager many many years ago so I had to manage a test environment that crossed UNIX and Windows 3.11 (Don't ask) - we got us in a "highly respected UNIX contractor"

When I say "we" - I asked for one - and I got him assigned to me.

What I reckon they did was drag the streets to bring in the smelliest looking drunk you've ever seen - the day he arrived (lunchtime) he looked like he'd been dragged through 3 hedges. Backwards. Then forwards. Then backwards again.

And my god did he stink of drink.

Then he opened his shit-teeth-stained mouth. And the smell was the vilest most putrid thing you've ever smelt - I did the "big-eyes", hold stomach, barely-suppressed retch thing that you do - and left the room quickly.

The next morning - he smelt worse and I had to sit him as far away from me as I could.

The next few mornings he got worse and worse - and it was clear that he really, really didn't have the first clue about UNIX, Windows or anything (certainly not personal hygiene)

The following week, he turned up (on the Monday) and he'd clearly spent the weekend facedown in the gutter drink paint-thinner - I asker for and got him removed from the premises....

There's just no need.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 8:36, Reply)
Gah
There was this guy I used to work around - I say around as he had that smell that meant that you couldn't get near him as the aroma forcibly pushed you away.

You know the smell, the one that is vaguely curry-like that you don't think is causing you all that much offence, but suddenly strikes you down - like the gods smiting down on all that is evil in the world.

As mentioned before, I don't do tact. And not on a morning. And certainly not on a Monday morning.

So when he came in on a Monday morning smelling like, well, the rancid, fetid, sweating, festering, puke stained freak show that he is - My unfortunate outburst - at volume was:

"In the name of all that is holy, have a f*cking bath!!"

I shocked myself and him on that one - gave me a wide berth after that.

Apparently he still smells...
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 8:29, Reply)
QUOTE:
"even the teachers held them in disregard and openly used sitting next to them as a punishment."

any teacher who does that (to anyone, let alone a kid who's probably being abused and/or neglected) should be banned from teaching for life.
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 8:01, Reply)
Ugh
I can smell you from here.

Yes, you!

Especially UnstableDan
(, Tue 27 Mar 2007, 7:55, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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