Stinky schoolkid
My year at school had several candidates all competing for the title of "smelliest kid in the year". Lee Atkins was pretty ripe, his BO would hit you right in the nostrils as it followed his generally grubby, crumpled form. There were allegedly one or two rather oniony girls but I never stood close enough to the culprits to confirm these unsubstantiated rumours.

Then there was the absolute Grand Master of Mank, the Sultan of Stink himself; Richard Moss.

Mossy was a strange chap, his parents were from Macclesfield and Mossy never lost the accent despite moving to rural Essex when he was eight. He was a brilliant student, but man was he eccentric. You occasionally meet people in life who possess IQs off the scale, but cannot be trusted to tie their shoelaces and Mossy was one of them. However, he also possessed vicious temper would spark with little warning and he used to come out with the oddest things, often compulsively lying for the sake of it. Reading back I feel a pang of guilt about posting this because it seems obvious that his home life must have been less than rosy.

By the age of 12, when most of us started sprouting hair in unusual places and lurching between tenor and soprano mid sentence, we began to notice something a tad "aromatic" about Mossy which proceeded to worsen as we all entered our teens.

A pattern was established thus: The start of a new term was greeted by Mossy turning up neat as a pin, hair freshly cut and him having recently been bathed. By the start of the second week you'd notice the tide mark on his collar and the shininess of his hair, not to mention the rather tangy odour which clung to him. By half term he'd be officially rank, having apparently gone six whole weeks avoiding showers.

After returning from half term the shirt would change, but the smell and grease was still apparent. Every week we all trooped off to assembly in form order and the competition not to sit next to Mossy was intense. Often we took to drawing cards as a means of fairly deciding who sat next to him. This may sound a little cruel but it was enough to make one's eyes water. Worse however was to come.

The summer of 1989 was bad for two reasons, firstly it was the hottest on record and secondly it was when Mossy got fitted with a brace. The former made his stink unbearable, the latter gathered particles of food which decomposed in his mouth (which was a stranger to a toothbrush) which gave off an unforgettable smell which makes me retch just thinking about it. Subtle hints were dropped, even pointing out he was the only kid (apart from Lee Atkins) who didn't shower after games, but this made no difference. The knuckledraggers in the year just used to scream "Mossy, you fucking stink!" but no dice, he'd continue to cultivate his stench.

However, in an utterly unbelieveable turn of events Mossy managed to turn the head of a girl in our year. Despite his outrageous funkiness and indecipherable humour someone took a bit of a shine to him declaring he was "sweet". I'd love to be able to say that being motivated by the attentions of a lady he changed his ways but no, he rebuffed her advance and went on smelling with all the charm of an abbatoir.

Now I'd not normally post with such relish, but seeing as he chap not only started a fight with me for no reason aged twelve (something about Airwolf being faster than Blue Thuder or something) and turned psycho on me I've harboured a grudge for two decades. Meh.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 22 Mar 2007, 13:58, Reply)