SMELLS LIKE SPLEEN FAGGOTS

Although afflicted & cursed with many an ailment, my biggest personal health problem is my sense of smell.
Unlike a colleague who, along with the liberal lefty whinger Lucy Mangan, has anosmia (no sense of smell whatsoever), I have the complete opposite.
I can smell a cigarette from over 100 yards on a still day, and I know when a nappy needs changing way before the mother & child do.
I empty my kitchen waste on a daily basis, and wash out my wheelie bin fortnightly.
I can smell anything that has been rightly or wrongly flushed away, or washed down a sink.
And in springtime I can smell bluebells before they are in bloom.

Although some would think this a minor super-power, I consider it an affliction.

As a writer of many poems in my past, it's easy to see which of my senses made the most impression on my work.
One of the principle reasons for no longer attending pop festivals was the 'overwhelming stench of shite & doughnuts'.
I would refer to my domestic situations (and past girlfriends) in terms of aromas and whiffs, and the analogous use of bleach in my later work said more about my addictions than any reference to illegal drugs.

So it is today, with great pride, that I present to you my Top 10 Most Offensive Smells.

I have been harbouring a lot of this information for several months, but deep inside I knew there was at least one smell missing.
Because of its lack of appearance in my life for many a day now, I had forgotten how utterly repulsive this odour was.
It is so vile and obnoxious, that I have deliberately encountered loss and pain as a consequence of its recent renaissance.

For those of you reading this that do not currently reside in the UK (Hi Russia! Hi Taiwan!) we have recently  had the wettest summer on record.
We have had flooding on a major scale, and very little sunshine.
The temperatures however have remained pretty constant.
As it is technically warm, nearly every great British citizen has turned off the central heating.
We should be drying our laundry on clotheslines, balconies or Hills Hoists (Hi Australia!), but due to the persistent rain, we are merely marinating our clean garments on cold metal radiators or clothes-horses.
And whilst taking the time to ensure my washing is clean & conditioned, and my washing-machine is fully functioning (totally clean fluff filter/no black mould/vinegar & baking soda applied), after 24hrs of sitting in its own cold, wet lethargy, my laundry has 'that smell'.
I have washed & re-washed several tea towels, only to throw them out yesterday.
I refuse to dry my dishes in a rag that smells like a 1st Year university student without an umbrella.
I grab every opportunity to peg out my bundles, but the rain just keeps coming, and that adds to the problem with its own particular odour.
I'm even considering buying Febreeze - this was never an option in my household before!

And as a consequence, this is my Number 1 Most Offensive Smell.

YANNY MAC'S TOP 10 MOST OFFENSIVE SMELLS

1. (See above)
2. Muck-spreading with human waste
3. Cider, weed & doughnut fuelled human waste, left to simmer for 5 days.
4. Mutton.
5. Money.
6. Rape Seed.
7. Sugar beet extraction.
8. Brothers Bar Flavoured Cider.
9. Any cigarettes smoked before 6pm.
10. Single mens' trainers/socks.

BRING BACK MARY WHITEHOUSE (Alys Fowler - Again!)

I am more than happy that provenance of food, and 'growing-your-own' has become another consumer-friendly pursuit of the middle classes as of late, but I am beginning to realise that other, less scrupulous horticulturalists are embracing these new technologies for illegal purposes; namely, the production of illegal Class A & B drugs.

I have mentioned in my other blog "Yanny Mac - Dwile Flonker" how easy it is to inadvertently procure illegal substances, particularly if one 'hangs out' with the right people
(see Allotment Alan's adventures at http://yannymac-dwileflonker.blogspot.com/2012/02/we-are-nothing-without-our-banks.html ).
I have also railed against the use of suggestive, highly-sexualised and profane language by the economy fish-finger, ex TV presenter, and now wannabe-journalist, Alys Fowler.

But this week she has gone too far.
In the Guardian Weekend supplement, of all places.

It would appear that her father introduced her to smack at an early age.
He told her how to access opium from poppies, and then regaled her with stories about 'chasing the dragon'.
Fowler herself goes on to describe how she 'is addicted to opium'.
And how it has become an obsession, and how she often tries to grow {poppies out of a} crack.

It's this sort of mindless, flippant, provocative writing that encourages our children to listen to the Devil's music, and subsequently sniff hair gel; ultimately leading to a life on benefit culture, addicted to soap, fast food takeaways and mind bending substance abusiveness.

I say it's time to regulate the musings of the liberal left media.

I say "Bring back Mary Whitehouse".