Smelly Pussy Syndrome Cured by Rhubarb

As a McDonkey’s Chew & Spew fast food manageress Candida Muffitch was very aware of the importance of presenting a good image to customers. But when it came to presenting herself Candida faced a huge problem.

For the last five years she had, naively and in blissful ignorance, suffered from vaginal hyperhidrosis or excessive sweating from her snatch.

Whereas most people sweat just one millilitre per hour, people with severe hyperhidrosis, like Candida, exude around ten times this level and the sweat can’t evaporate, leaving knickers badly stained and rotting, and the pubic hair and vulva stinking like a beached kipper.

“At first I thought it might be due me wanderin’ round with a pair of vibratin’ Ben Wah balls stuck up me cunt all day - to keep a smile on me face, like - but stickin’ ‘em up me bum instead didn’t do any good either.”

Candida tried a number of treatments, from steam cleaning and pressure washing to stuffing her malodorous minge with freshly-scented lavender bags, but whenever she approached the counter to serve, customers would sniff the air and ask “Have you got fish on the menu today?”

“The smell got that bad all the neighbour'ood cats started followin' me an' then me boyfriend fainted while we was 'avin' oral sex in a 69 position an ‘e was eatin’ me out, an’ ‘e ended up in an intensive care unit in a coma for three days. The bugger started wearin’ scuba gear every time ‘e muff-dived me after that.”

In desperation she foreswore her embarrassment and sought medical help from an industrial gynaecologist at Harley Street’s prestigious Stinky-Twats Clinic, who determined the cause of her vulval’s weapons-grade stench was partly due vaginal hyperhidrosis and the fact she was in the habit of masturbating with a Happy Haddock vibrator as her bedtime dildo of choice.

Diagnosed with a chronic case of galloping twatrot, and after having her vagina dredged, Candida opted for the clinic’s proprietary cure of rhubarb crystal laser treatment followed up by a course of daily rhubarb extract douches, and the nightly insertion of a six inch rhubarb pessary.

Now, whenever she’s serving at the fast food outlet’s counter, customers no longer sniff the air and say “Are you sure the herring’s fresh?” but rather “Hmmm, it smells like you’ve got rhubarb crumble on the menu today. Does it come with custard?”