Thursday, 30 June 2011


It's the last day. I'm a little disappointed.

I'm not exactly going to miss the many and various odours that the different parts of me are currently producing, not exactly. There is a strange sort of comfort to be had from your own smell though. The one produced at about armpit level that is; any lower than the waist and things can be a bit shocking.

How do I know this without some kind of unnatural contortion, you ask? Why, scratch and sniff, my friend. Good old tried and tested scratch and sniff...

Maybe not disappointed, more preemptively nostalgic. I am the source of a variety of distinct odours. Not strong necessarily, but present, and mine.

You see, the actual experience of being dirty really hasn't been a problem. The associated social awkwardness hasn't been great, and no-one really enjoys celibacy, but being unwashed is fine. In some ways it's strangely comforting. I smell undeniably of myself.

Not that I'm not keen to wash. I can't wait to soak in a bath; it's going to be unbelievably good; but that's because lying in the bath is brilliant, not because I desire to be cleansed. I really miss warm water. I really, really miss warm water.

This is all starting to sound a little perverse, possibly even perverted. Probably a good thing it ends tomorrow.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


The situation has become a lot more awkward. Through developments that are all of my own (stupid) doing and none of your (fucking) business, I am currently living on the sofas of friends. Several different friends. I don't want to be responsible for having to wash anyone's cushion covers, and I am rather greasy.

I only have 8 days left and I have just enough clean clothes to see me through that in my rucksack, so hopefully I'll make it without work telling me to wash. But you can't sleep naked in someone else's living room, so I'm definitely getting smellier.

The end is in sight, it would be really shit if this had to finish prematurely so late in the game.

Wish me luck and start stockpiling the soap...

Saturday, 11 June 2011


I must say I'm rather proud of my highly imaginative system for creating titles.


I was ill for a couple of days this week and was repeatedly asked if I thought it had anything to do with not washing for over two weeks. Well, put simply, I live in England. In a flat. If my immune system can't cope with a little bit of normal, everyday dirt of the sort you get in an affluent country with a temperate climate then how the fuck have I survived so long? Bell-ends.

At this point I am really rather used to the state my body's in and, in reality, it's not that bad. The only real problem is that one of the rules of the competition states that I have to tweet about it daily. This is a massive pain in the arse.

Firstly, before I entered into this, I had been avoiding twitter like the plague. I had some vague notion that it would just be a massive collection of the boring prattle of the self-important. I was at least ninety per cent right.

Secondly, it's very tedious wasting whole minutes of my day every day trying to think of some boring prattle about not washing to share with the masses when most of the time there is nothing to say. I have not washed. I continue to not wash. That's about the short and tall of it now except for the occasional thing which is of some interest (to me at least) and therefore cannot be expressed well in 140 characters. Hence this blog.

Thirdly, as I mentioned on twitter don't-cher-know, the only bit of not washing for forty days that really strikes me as unhealthy is the morbid self-analysis that having to say something about it daily incurs. Most of the time I don't give a flying fuck. Only very occasionally would my physical state impinge on my consciousness if I wasn't forced to constantly consider it, even in circumstances like this. It is tedious and paranoia inducing and I don't like it. So there.

What a particularly vitriolic post this has been.

Rant over.

Saturday, 4 June 2011


It's about time I wrote something really.

It's been two weeks now. Over a third of the way through and I'm coasting really. People keep asking me when it starts, then looking shocked and telling me I don't smell. Please allow me to clarify: I do smell. It's just much easier to smell me when I'm naked.

This is not an invitation, just a fact.

Wearing clean clothes every day is making a huge difference. Apparently some people do this all the time, which strikes me as a huge waste of water, electricity and effort, but there's no accounting for taste I suppose. I have just put the washing machine on for the fourth time since this started. That's twice a week for the clothes of two people, which is practically criminal as far as I'm concerned.

I think it's actually my mouth which is the most upsetting part of me as far as cleanliness goes. Not really on a day-to-day basis, but it was a friend's birthday yesterday and I was drinking til the wee small hours last night. Now my mouth feels and tastes a bit like an ashtray that an alcoholic tramp has pissed in and I would dearly love to do something about it but sheer bloody-mindedness is stopping me. It's OK though, this feeling will pass. It might just take a couple of hours to, and those couple of hours will be a little unpleasant, but it will pass.

OK, live update. I am sitting here naked (you may remember I mentioned this in an earlier post) and have just managed to sneeze all over myself. I couldn't get my hand in front of my face in time. Please refer to what I have just been saying about the state of my mouth and take a little time to imagine exactly how I feel about this turn of events. I am sitting less than three metres from a bathtub. This is torture.

I will persevere. I WILL persevere.

Bye now.

Friday, 27 May 2011


So, developments.

A couple of days ago I received a friendly ultimatum from work: if anyone complains or if it's going to affect my dealings with clients then this has to end. It's quite fair really. It isn't based on anything except a general concern that this might happen as far as I can tell, but it definitely made me a bit wary. I'd hate for this to end through no fault of my own. That would be quite upsetting.

There was a point yesterday; when the ambient temperature in the office was about 24C and I could vaguely smell myself even through freshly laundered clothes; when I did start to get a bit paranoid about it, but I think it should be OK. Today was a cooler and my odour was definitely less obvious. At least I think it was, it's very hard to tell if you're becoming desensitised. Anyway, it's been almost exactly a week now and I seem to be getting away with it. I can't see my smell getting all that much worse.

From now on I think the problem will just be keeping it up, but I actually feel fine about it now. I've got used to the vague stickiness and greasiness that goes along with being unclean and my girlfriend doesn't seem to mind physical contact. She did roll over the other morning and end up with her nose in my armpit which lead to a fairly comic reaction but apart from that it's appears to be fine. No real complaints and only the occasion 'I can smell you from here' from the other side of the living room.

Actually, now that I think about it, she did say she was going to start witholding sex if I don't brush my teeth. There's nothing in the rules about it, so I could but I reckon I she'll forget she said that and she's unlikely to read this to remind her. Probably best to ignore it and see what happens in the spirit of scientific discovery. It's mostly the smell of stale alcohol she was objecting to so as long as I stay fairly sober, or I'm drinking with her, then it should be fine.

I'll keep you posted.

Monday, 23 May 2011


Nothing really to report on the smell front, it's only day three after all. Some pretty good reactions from people though. No one's been surprised, at least not my friends anyway. Like I said, I'm fairly well known for my lack of a normal sense of personal hygiene.

I have only been in my current job for about two months, which might be an issue, but they seemed more dubious than apprehensive when I mentioned it.

Generally the reaction's been a sort of vaguely amused disgust. Already got a couple of  more sensitive friends avoiding physical contact but I'm pretty sure that's down to the principle rather than any kind of real aversion to my present state. That may change.

My girlfriend has started to refer to me as 'Stinky', and she does claim I was unpleasant this morning, but again I reckon this is the result of her knowledge of my cleanliness not its actual effect. Her boss's reaction was pretty good. She's offered my girlfriend £40 if she gives me head on the last of the 40 days. Unfortunately for me it doesn't look like it's going to work.

Really it could go two ways. Either I'm going to start to reek and everyone will notice or, and I think this is probably more likely, I'll not be too noticeable and people will start to forget about it pretty quickly.

Not that I won't smell at all, merely that I don't think it's going to get unbearable, and  I do have some tactics planned. First, and most obvious: clean clothes daily. The real unwashed stench is due to the build up on clothes as much as, and maybe even more than, body. I own quite a lot of shoes so I can keep them on rotation as well, which will help. Second: nudity. My thinking is that if I spend most of my time at home bollock naked and exposed to the air it will mitigate the smell a bit. Even if not then it'll keep me amused. Could be a little awkward if any of my friends decide to drop by unexpectedly though.

Other than that there are a few bits to consider. Shaving for a start. Dry shaving is not fun. I'm not that happy with the idea of wielding blades near my face to start with and even less so when they're unlubricated. Having said that, I'm not the hairiest of people. In fact, at 27, I still can't even nearly grow a full beard. Which, now I think about it, makes the problem worse. If I could grow anything like an actual beard I'd just overcome the problem that way. As it is I have to shave because otherwise I'll end up with ridiculous tufts poking out of my face at odd angles. I do have some hair clippers though, which should keep it short enough without mangling my face too much.

Even if I'm not forced to be celibate then too much sex could be a fairly bad idea. And that goes for masturbation too. Fun inside my pants will definitely turn into not-so-fun inside my pants pretty quickly if I can't wash what's inside my pants.

I'm sure there are more things I could say but I'm bored now. Another time.

Sunday, 22 May 2011


So, the nice people at Guerrilla Science are running a competition (  to see if anyone can go forty days without washing.

I can.

One of the conditions is that you have to tweet daily about the experience and, despite my extreme distaste for twitter, this I will be doing. But there are certain things that can't be said in 140 characters and I'm doing this because I'm curious to see what happens, so I think it's something that will be interesting to document properly.

The rules state that I can wash my hands to maintain some kind of semblance of basic hygiene. Other than that, no washing. The rules say nothing about oral hygiene but, as I aim to do this properly, I will not be brushing my teeth either. At this point I should mention that we celebrated mine and a friend's birthdays yesterday with an A-Z pub crawl of Brighton and my mouth tastes like arse.

There are a number of things that have to be considered before you can allow yourself to commit to something as stupid as this. I told everyone I work with, or at least those I work within a two metre radius of. I asked my girlfriend nicely if she would allow me to do this, the upshot of which is that I'm probably going to be celibate for most of the time but I'm allowed to share a bed with her. That's good, the sex I will work on. Most importantly though, is whether can you deal with your own stench. I'm  soap dodger by nature, I'll easily go without washing for two weeks without really noticing, but this is going to be through the height of summer and two weeks is one thing, six another. We will see.

Probably the biggest problem will be that the fact it is a competition will be a continuous reminder of what I am doing or, more precisely, not doing. It's day two and I'm already getting nostalgic about hot water.

More updates when I can be bothered.