Do you remember those cans of ‘fart gas’ that you could buy when you were a kid?
It would generally waste a large chunk of the pocket money that you had saved up for the annual summer holiday, having purchased it after falling for the illusion of actually having a real can of real flatus. The reality was that the smell was rank, but not really that similar to proper anal gaseous discharge. When I say rank, I mean rank. Proper rank. Not enough to produce instant projectile vomiting (that would be amaaaaazing), but enough to clear a ridge tent in quick time, even in the rain. Chemically mixed rankness in spray form. The smell contained in these containers was definitely not pleasant. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that it was some concoction from the depths of hell, but certainly a little lister demon that may have passed this region had given a little whisper in the ear of the creator of fart gas. You don’t remember fart gas? Oh.
Compared to what I had whaft under my nostrils on Friday, cans of fart gas are about as unpleasant as fresh honeysuckle. Here is a picture of something that really does smell. Technically, this thing here “really really fucking stinks”.
As I approached it, the smell situation wasn’t in my mind but once I got close and the hoard of flies vacated the whaft whafted. Rankness of another level. Needless to say, this is a pan species patch tick and evidently it has a rude sounding scientific name – Phallus impudicus. Gurgle.