Once, years ago, i travelled to England. I generally lived from busking while i was there for 2 years. Alot of that busking was done on an electric guitar with a bass string on it, in Nottingham. Between the broadmarsh centre, and 'the lions'. Once, on a freezing monday, near the end of the school holidays, a swarm of about 13 kids, housing commision kids, 11 years old at a guess, approached me, and circled around me, and pulled out cans of what appeared to be spray deoderant. I HATE that stuff. I told them "Don't even think about it" and they all lunged and sprayed me, DOUSED me really, in what in fact turned out to be 'Fart spray'. Obtainable from a joke/gag shop near you. One of them even set fire to the spray and i then discovered the true woe of being right in the firing line of a fart-spray flame thrower. Idiots. I became furious and leapt to my feet and began flailing my arms about and they all ran off.
   I tried to resume busking, but the smell was nothing to be reckoned with. I stunk like i could only smell like months after my own death. I packed up and made for the Bus station, and waited, stinkingly, for the 1A to bridgeford.
On the bus, i looked around, to see all the folks looking around and flaring their nostrils with expressions of much nausia. And i didn't blame them at all, so, i joined in, as though i wondered where that pong was coming from too.