There is a Dame Judith of Stench currently emanating from my broom cupboard. I shall have to deal with this upon the morrow. Somethings are best left to the forensic light of day. It seems focused on the Felix boxes at the front and when I fed His Furry Majesty there was matter upon the pouches. It was crumbly and slightly like breadcrumbs in constituency.
The general bouquet has high notes of rank citrus on top of a strong middle-range of cat puke and rancid blue cheese followed by bass-notes of Heinz Macaroni Cheese. Thanks to Jilly Goulden for that! It’s an interesting smell. Horrible but peculiar if you see what I mean. It is one to savour in all it’s true sickly sweetness. It has nuances in the way a Paveway bomb does but a Greek public toilet doesn’t if you catch my drift. They lack the specifically horrible nuance. They are just a full-spectrum dominance of evil. This keeps flitting around.
Just out of interest what is the worst smell you ever did… er… smell?
I dunno if I I need Dettol, napalm, an exorcist, or HP Lovecraft for this one. But there is definitely something against God, reason and humanity happening in there. I suspect Great Cthulhu may be rising in my broom-cupboard. And that would be a right cunting state of affairs because like all my tools and stuff are in there. I have rawl-plugs and duct tape in there! What’s Obama gonna do about that then?
Something happened in that cupboard. Something eldritch and possibly cthonian. Anyway I’ll sort it on the morrow.
I hope.
Nick, I do sympathize. Off the top of my head, if you have one of those optical pointer-devices that you slide around as part of your computer kit, you might want to consider treating it with rat poison and burying it.
I think an Exorcist, including in his toolbox perhaps nondilute sodium hypochlorite, napalm (yes, good idea), and perhaps a Crucifix. A consultant might well be helpful, but while you suggest the master Dark Artist Lovecraft, oughtn’t you to consider also Mr. Bradbury?
I believe the Santaria Shoppe is planning an excellently evil Open House for tomorrow, in celebration of the Sith’s re-non-election, so if you like I can drop by with some of those chicken entrails. And in the worst case, I believe Gandalf was a master of Works of Fire, so we might persuade him to simply burn the house down for you. (He probably wouldn’t need the napalm.) Even if the pong remains, you’ll at least be finding abode elsewhere and won’t be bothered by it.
Worst thing I ever smelled? Rotten meat.
Simple, but effective.
I dunno but I’m a fairly fit 39 and I’ve always wanted my epitaph (on Titan) to be, “He did questionable things”. What better for I have done questionable things. If the weather holds I’m having a leaf hecatomb tomorrow.
Mainly questioned by my wife who is like so straight-laced and isn’t into blowing shit up. Me- I have been since, purely empirically, I worked out that a combo of tar and asbestos almost took my mate S’s bollocks off. I have loved science ever since. Oh, happy days!
Well it was his idea to jump over the fire pit.
I think I *probably* win the prize.
I once got hold of some butyl mercaptan (unfortunately, a bit too literally). I seem to remember that the Guiness Book of Records awarded it ’smelliest substance’.
Then there was the time I synthesized a really cruddy batch of some acetylamine gunk in organic chemistry. Smelled like rodent shit, but about ten billion times more intense.
“It seems focused on the Felix boxes at the front …”
Are they pouches? Check that one hasn’t leaked. If so the resultant rotten spoiled meat is the most likely culprit.
Worst smell or worst reaction to smell. If the later, then it’s just simple sick. I puke when near it. If the former, I can cope with just about anything.
Cthulhu? I remember playing D&D when I was a spotty youth. Never really got into it.
Pouches? They can go off. We sent off an email about a box of them where a number had swelled to near bursting. Got a voucher in return for a replacement box.
Worst smell ever - back in my military nursing days we had a patient airlifted from Angola who had lost his leg in a land mine explosion. By the time he had been caesevaced he had been in the bush for 3 days and sepsis had set in. I was the theatre nurse that removed his field dressing
A tannery in the Wiltshire village where I lived for a while in the seventies. An idyllic spot on the River Avon, the tannery building was about 150 years old covered in Virginia creeper and a thing of beauty, until you got within a hundred yards or so, an indescribable stink, one of those catch the back of the throat and make you choke sensations. They used to use dog shit in the tanning process at one time, God alone knows how vile that must have been.
Back in my youth when I worked on a farm, we were clipping the hooves of a ram (a bit like cutting toenails), when the clippers went through some sort of abscess on its foot. All this yellowish white puss came out, and damn, it stank like you wouldn’t believe.