Or, 'odour.' The 'u' makes it poncey. Or is it 'pongy,' as one person was quoted as saying to describe the stench?
Either way, y'all, This is big news! There's a heat wave in the UK, it's going to go all the way up to 84F, and English pits are going to be a-reeking at the fun fair!
To this I must say the following:
1) 84F does not a heat wave make
2) deodorant!
3) "Pongy" is my new favorite word
Seriously. Eighty-FOUR? That's like April weather around these parts. People start looking for sweaters when it gets down to that temp! Shoot, anything below 90 is a blessing these days, as currently it's hotter than the hinges of Hades by noon.
And honestly, what is up with the BO issues? I was on the Tube in London a few years back and almost barfed from the smell of some folks. Is it not customary to bathe, or use deodorant there? I thought England was a civilized nation, one with loos and showers and perhaps the odd bidet with which to do the washing-up, but you'd never know it after spending a few minutes crammed into a subway car with a hundred natives (or, mostly natives. It WAS London, the crossroads of humanity). The ladies department at the local Marks and Spencer wasn't bad, and my British coworkers weren't stinky, so maybe it's only the people who ride the Underground that reek?
But still. What do you think the chances are that people who WANT to wave their hands around while riding a roller coaster are going to be all like 'oh, OK then. Right. You've said I shouldn't, and so I won't. Indeed. You have my word that my palms will be firmly affixed to the safety bar at all times. Rightee-ho then. Cheers!' Because in my experience the people who are crazy enough to let go of the one and only thing that stands between them and CERTAIN DEATH are young, insane, and clearly suicidal. These are not people who are rule-bound or particularly authority-friendly, are they? No, no, they are not.
In fact, I can see it now: "Cor mates, let's go to Thorpe Park tomorrow, eh? But first, let's go play a little footie, drink a few pints at the Beheaded Lamb and Pig Shank, smoke a packet of Players unfiltered, eat a curry, sleep off the drink, rub onions under our armpits, and do a particularly exhausting round of calesthenics! THEN we go to Thorpe, ride in the front carriage of the Doom Master, and offend as many people as possible with our goat-stank! What's that? No, Nigel, we're not going to do the flume! Duh!"
And if that didn't happen, I'd be shocked. But not pongy. Of this I am Sure.
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You ever been pit-bombed? Do tell us about it, won't you?
And have a lovely day.
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