You can show three reactions on walking into a toilet and being assailed by an incumbent’s curtain of stink. All three must be delivered by banging the door shut when exiting for dramatic effect :

1). ‘What a f*****g stink.’ (Pause, then bang the door shut).

2). ‘For God’s sake!’ (Give a little strangled choke for effect before banging the door shut hard).

3) You dirty b******.’ (Really put your weight into a full door slam on this one).

It is, of course, pointlessly childish but provides some light entertainment during the day. And to think the Japanese invented a tablet some years ago to stop your excrement smelling? A fascinating and industrious race from who we could learn much. David Cameron take note.

 

“What’s that smell? What’s that horrible smell? What IS that smell?’ harped some old crab being wheeled around the supermarket today.

Her husband remained blank faced and too polite to point out the impossibility  of smelling anything in the air conditioned sterility of a Sainsbury’s mint mart.

“It’s horrible, horrible. Where is that smell coming from,” the crone repeated like some loop taped parrot.

Take about getting stick in mid-town traffic. I felt like leaning down and whispering in her flap: “You smell the rot of your own corpulent flesh you denizen of the Eighth Gate. Now begone and let me shop for my doughnuts in peace.”

Cruel I know but necessary to prevent me pushing her wheelchair and all into the large utility hole being dug outside the shop.

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