For our Smelly Tweeter competition – a challenge to last 40 days and 40 nights without washing – contestant Daniel Farrel kept a regular blog about his experiences: 40 Days Of Filth.

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Daniel finally washes himself clean at the Secret Garden Party.

Choice cuts:

[There have been] some pretty good reactions from people… Generally the reaction’s been a sort of vaguely amused disgust… 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…

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…. [such as] 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…

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…

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….

I am sitting less than three metres from a bathtub. This is torture. I will persevere. I WILL persevere…

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…

Maybe not disappointed, more preemptively nostalgic. I am the source of a variety of distinct odours. Not strong necessarily, but present, and mine. In some ways it’s strangely comforting. I smell undeniably of myself.

Illuminating. Read all of Daniel’s thoughts, opinions and complaints here.