Monday, 20 February 2012

Based On True Events...

I am a very polite person. I’m so polite in fact, that I would queue up to get to the front of a hostage situation which involved my own family. This is why I had an immense internal struggle when I decided to tell a lady that she was smelly.

She was sat beside me on the train. She was a true behemoth of a woman with troughs for eyes and hunks of ham where her hands should be. I don’t like to insult overweight people, but she was pushing the very limits of existence with her overwhelming size. The fabric of spacetime was lower in mass when compared to the fabric of her tracksuit bottoms. She plonked herself down and grunted disapprovingly as she parked half of one bum cheek on the seat, as though the social responsibility were on me to move out of her way. I couldn’t move even if I’d wanted to, and certainly could not circumnavigate her without an ordinance survey map.

So there she was, balanced precariously on the edge of the next seat, leaving her suitcase in the aisle for other passengers to trip over. How rude of them to ignorantly step on her luggage and crush the 25 litres of Walkers Sensations she’d stuffed in there!

She then proceeded to produce a bag of pork scratchings from under her coat. She probably farms them under her armpits or something, then bags them up as snacks for later. I couldn't comprehend the audacity of her actions. If you were so big that the train begins to creak to one side, you’d think you’d make an effort to appear as though you’re trying to lose weight. The seat was buckling and I was starting to get nervous.

The next thing I noticed was the smell. Perhaps an expedition team had been sent down her gullet to find a lost dog or something, but had become trapped and died. She stank like a barge made of rotting corpses carrying a shipment of shit over a sewerage lake. That’s not even an exaggeration. You know when people say that smelly things make them feel sick? I was at the point where I considered having a shit, just to give everyone something more pleasant to sniff. My very soul was determined to escape from this cataclysmic death star of dung looming over me, and I'm pretty sure it climbed out of my ear and joined league with the devil.

Being fat is fine. I enjoy food as much as the next person, unless the next person is bulimic. But that god awful smell was inexcusable. It was the type of stench that could cut through safe locks. I took this as a personal assault; on me, my nasal passages, and my fellow commuters who had the common decency to shower and change their clothes once in a while. Rocking the sun-dried bacon and urine smell is just not on when using crowded public transport.

“Excuse me” Said I as I tried to clamour out of my seat like a puppy being sucked down a sinkhole. But she didn’t move. Perhaps she didn’t hear me because my hand was firmly clamped to my mouth and nose. Perhaps it was because my mouth was full of sick. Either way, she continued to munch down pig snacks faster than a relapsing Jew.

“Have you tried not smelling so much?”

As soon as the words popped out of my mouth, I instantly regretted it.  An internal struggle had occurred where I weighed up the pros and cons of this potentially delicate and dangerous situation, like a man contemplating whether to stroke a sleeping tiger.  In the end, my nasty side won the contest, causing me to meekishly make the above statement.

“Whaaaa-?!” Squealed Mount Thrushmore, turning in her seat and instantly creating enough friction to turn her labia into crackling.

“Err, I just meant, could you keep your stink molecules to yourself?” Was the politest thing I could think of saying. Essentially, flecks of her shit, piss and sweat were floating into my nasal cavity, which is tantamount to assault in my book.

She leaned forward towards me. I could smell those hot, salty, semi-digested scratchings were already mixing with various other flavours to produce a noxious gas of which science has yet to categorise. I felt like I was coming down with 100 undiscovered tropical skin diseases just by being breathed on. The floor began to dissolve beneath me as the train chassis gave way, exposing rushing rail tracks beneath me. Was this the end? My life tried to flash before my eyes, but my long term memory had been wiped clean, and my eyes had crusted together. She leaned forward yet further until she was right in front of me, and her mouth opened like a harpoon wound on a stretched seal as she emitted a noise.


Nom?! Was that it, an eating noise? I was confused, was I being threatened? I concluded that her saturate-addled brain hadn’t mastered the art of communication. Then she took the unexpected step of unzipping her coat. As the sides drooped down by her waist, it was like Pandora’s Box had been opened. I swear I heard someone crying from within a cavernous fold of her t shirt. The room was spinning, or the train was crashing, I wasn't not sure. My nerves got the better of me and I started banging on the window in hopes of escape, or fresh air.

Then, she began to roll up the bottom of her t shirt. An unholy thought crossed my mind. A thought so unholy even Satan himself would say it was "a bit much". Perhaps she was going to mate with me. Maybe she had decided that somehow, my human and her porcine genomes would combine successfully to create superior offspring.  I searched my person in vain for something to commit suicide with, but there was nothing I could use, unless you can kill yourself with a swiss army knife, a length of hessian rope, a can of petrol, and a whole bunch of cyanide pills. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a combination of those items that would do the job effectively.

It was at this point that I noticed the air rushing past my ears. As I looked at her belly button I noticed that it was literally sucking matter out of the universe. I held tightly onto my seat as we (me and the other passengers) all crossed the event horizon of her navel, and watched as several other people were sucked in and crushed like cream crackers protesting in Tiananmen Square. I couldn’t hold on any longer. The seat gave way and threw me into the void.

And where did I end up? Paradise, that’s where. As my eyes began to adjust, I found myself on a sandy beach. The warm sun was bearing down and heating the calm ocean to a comfortable temperature. All the other people were beautiful, not a single sag in sight. Was this heaven? I asked someone if Coldplay existed and was greeted with a blank stare. It was heaven! I ordered a cocktail and found myself a massaging sun lounger, then began to drift off to sleep.

This is when I awoke. The woman was gone, the train was intact, and I was a long way past my stop. Did I dream the whole thing? I asked my neurologist and he said the most likely outcome was that I was affected by neurotoxins that altered my perception. The chemicals in my system were similar to human sweat, indicating that she’d been emitting hallucinogenic chemicals. The military want to take blood samples from me to find out if my body holds the secrets to a new biological weapon.  I'm told that my lifespan has been greatly reduced.  Still, you've got to laugh, haven't you?
*Dramatisation may not have happened.*


  1. At least you weren't sucked into her vagina! That would have been hell!

  2. This is one the best posts I have read by anyone in ages. lord, it brings back so many horrific memories of train journeys and having to sit next to scum and great unwashed.
    the only thing worse than pork scratchings is when they start eating beef monster munch.
    oooooh the horrors........

  3. This sounds horrible - you have my sympathies! If you find yourself in this situation again, here's how you can commit suicide with your aforementioned items:

    Don't eat, for about a week. Then, just before you die of starvation, buy a sandwich.

    Tie one end of the hessian rope to the sandwich. Tie the other end to a police car that belongs to a mounted police officer.

    Fill up the police car with petrol from the petrol can.

    Poison the police officer's horse so he has to use his car.

    Threaten a young child nearby with the Swiss army knife, in view of bystanders.

    Someone will call the police. As the nearest officer to the scene, the mounted officer will attempt to attend - but will discover his horse is dead. He will jump in his car instead. As he accelerates, the sandwich will be ripped from your hand, and you will die of starvation.

    Hope this helps!

  4. Madness, thy name is Addman. It's the little details that make this so good. Like specifying that you looked for "Hessian" rope. A tale with a sci-fi twist. Like that movie Dark City. But with all the fat jokes, I think Brett Ratner would direct this movie.

  5. "I considered having a shit, just to give everyone something more pleasant to sniff." <i am totally going to have to use that some time! this post was soooo funny, i love how it started out rather normal and then just ran away with craziness. so many funny bits, you rock.

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  7. I find that the best way to react in situations like these is to be be proactive. It's a tough row to hoe, but, awfully rewarding. Let's take your unfortunate incident as an example. Perhaps you might have started with a smile and said, "Pardon me, madam. I don't mean to bother you, but, I simply couldn't stay quiet any longer. I wanted to congratulate you on how absolutely magnanimous a person you are. Not only have you blessed us here, on the his cramped bus, with your immense presence, but, have brought with you the stench of a thousand burning devils as well."


    "Excuse me, madam. I hate to intrude, but, I have a confession. I am envious of you. For years now, I have been consumed by my need to consistently bath AND be sociable while remaining unique amongst my peers and society as a whole. It's been a hard battle indeed. Many a night I have indulged in sobbing, self loathing sessions trying to find a way out of my inner turmoil. Yet, madam, you have succeeded where a mere, mortal man could not. You have managed to not only renounce your personal hygiene but, achieved a level of uniqueness rarely seen among non rotting corpses. May I ask, how long did it take you to accrue a stench, so foul, that God would weep at it's mere mention? Indeed, if there were such a thing as "olfactory vandalism", madam. You would be it's Banksy."

  8. Magnifique! Also, you have a clever cadre of compadres, 'cause the comments were quite comical. Kudos.

  9. As always, thanks for the brilliant comments. I was a little apprehensive about this post because I thought it was too nasty and I didn't like the ending. I'm pleased that you seemed to enjoy it.

    @Bersercules - I don't think she even had one. Or perhaps my brain is forcing me to believe that.

    @Bumferry - Beef monster munch is very tasty, but somehow doesn't seem so great when other people are eating it.

    @Ash-Matic - Brilliant. I'm appointing you as my personal anti-life coach. When I get depressed, you can come up with the most comical way in which I can kill myself.

    @Pickleope - Who would star? Susan Boyle as "The Flabberwocky".

    @ID - Starts off normal, then runs away with the craziness. Sounds like a timeline of my life. Thank you very much!

    @Elton - The world would be a sadder place without your long, hilarious diatribes. Don't ever change, unless you intend to grow boobies.

    @Flip - I know. I'm going to start collecting my favourite bloggers, pressing them into a diverse stickerbook of my life. And with nice alliteration like that, you're first.

    1. I did in fact attempt to grow boobs once. It ended in excessive weight gain, a nervous tick brought on by intense and prolonged masturbation and I nearly wore off both the boobs and the middle of my palms.

  10. Epic post! I can totally realate beside the whole spiraling vortex and airborne hallucinogen part.

    I hate when the person sitting in front of you smells so bad that it seeps over to your seat and you have to somehow have to reveal that the stench is not coming from you. Also, you want to breathe through your mouth to prolong your sense of smell a few more years but you realize breathing through your mouth will only make matters worse because you'll allow the harmful particles direct access to your stomach. However, you're much braver than I because I don't think I could ever tell a stranger that they smell.

    Hilarious post!

    1. I must admit, this is mostly a fabrication. I did sit next to a woman who smelled as awful as described, and I when I tried to get past her, she made a "nom" sound at me and didn't move until I asked her again, loudly. However, I didn't tell her that she smelled. I'm not as brave as my fictional self.

    2. Oh, yeah my fictional self is a brave crime fighter as well. I'm surprised that it's mostly a fabrication though. It was convincing.

  11. Nothing could have made this more graphically appalling in terms of olfactory abuse: "She stank like a barge made of rotting corpses carrying a shipment of shit over a sewerage lake." No shit, I would have died in a second.

    Absolutely classic post.

    1. Glad you enjoyed it. Next week I'm going to describe how it would feel to get a rim job from Mickey Rourke.

  12. And this is another reason to hate public transportation.

  13. "Could you keep your stink molecules to yourself?"

    This is probably my favorite post of yours. This is epic, and hilarious, and I passed it on to a few friends. How could you not pass this on?

    I have nothing against the fat either, but goddamn, sometimes there's a line. And this woman's fupa crossed well over that line.

  14. My kind of story - love it! Nom!

  15. @DWei - I'd be impressed if you could come up with a list of reasons to LIKE public transport.

    @A Beer For The Shower - Thank you very much! Yes, pass it onto your friends, like you would with stink molecules. Wait, I'm not trying to say that you stink or anything, I was just- uh...

    @Liz - Don't say that word! I can't listen to people eating anymore without having flashbacks...

  16. XD :D (<--- those represent my facial expressions, the first is a smile so big my eyes get all closed up, and the second it an open-mouth, smile as if to say 'Ha ha' or 'yay!) I actually have no wits about me per-se, so I am use these smile representations in lieu of a the witty comment which I am not qualified to perform, I hope you do not mind)

    In all honesty, sometimes I am dishonest when I'll use the an expression like 'lol' or 'lmao.' Most of the time I don't *really* laugh out loud when I say lol, but I do usually *like* whatever it is I said 'lol' to/about. 'Lmao,' - a lot of times means, "that was really funny," but in most cases, not only had I not actually laughed my ass off, I had not even laughed at all, but merely cracked a smile.

    Actually, I never *have* laughed my ass off. If I could do that, I would get a blue mat, put on a leotard and some tight stretch pants (with those little ankle straps) a pair of wrist warmers, and start my "Laugh Your Ass Off" exercise video series and see how far I could take that franchise.

    But I really laughed while reading this. Multiple times. :D Thank you so much. That was awesome! :D

  17. This just made my weekend :) you've just gotten another follower!


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