Life Smells Sweet For The Man With The World’s Biggest Nose

Stephen Montipoopleir has the world's biggest nose.
Stephen Montipoopleir has the world's biggest nose.

Stephen Montipoopleir of Paris, France has the world’s biggest nose. He works in the specialized field of perfume sampling. When perfume factories get batches of lavender or sarcophagus they need smellers to distinguish the good and bad batches. Motipoopleir’s nose is not only the biggest but it’s one of the best in the industry. Its big size makes for more nerves and olefactorous surface area resulting in a keen sense of smell. Even though perfume sales are down in the worldwide financial crisis, Montipoopleir says he still makes millions of Euros a year. His home is surprisingly modest for such a rich man. Montipoopleir lives in a working class area of Paris. Montipoopleir and a slightly overweight middle aged woman greeted me at the door.

I entered the house and shook Montipoopleir’s hand. He indicated the woman and said, “This is my servant. Get us some wine, woman.”

The woman made a scowl and said, “You are not going on with that again? People will just think you’re a banana nosed nut case.”

“Is that your wife?” I asked.

“Are you joking? I am surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world. Women half her age. The perfume industry’s fashion models. And they all love me. Women love my fame and big

nose. I just come here for some peace to do my art and further my studies and research in neurology. I spend most of my time at my penthouse across town where I live with two beautiful sensual women. I am a powerhouse of sexual energy and after an intense love making session last night I have worn those two women out. So while they are sleeping and recuperating I am taking the opportunity to do some work here.”

“You mentioned something about neurology?” I asked.

“I am a world renown brain surgeon. You didn’t know that? However, I perform only a few operations each year because of the difficulty of getting the surgeon mask over my nose. I do travel the world, as I am in great demand, for lectures on neurology.”

As we walked in Montipoopleir’s home I saw several odd paintings hung on the walls. “Are you an art collector,” I asked, “or do you paint these yourself?”

“You don’t know? You American people are so sheltered from world culture. I am a world renown painter. Everyone in France knows this. My paintings sell for millions of dollars each.”

“With such valuable paintings don’t you worry about theft? You don’t seem to have any security here.”

“There is an elaborate muti-million Euro security system here that is virtually transparent. Besides, all the mastermind art thieves fear me because I am an expert in the martial arts. These hands are lethal weapons and I hold black belts in a dozen disciplines.”

We sat in Montipoopleir’s small kitchen table and drank wine. Montipoopleir held the glass of wine that his servant, (or was it his wife?) poured up to his nose and sniffed. “Oui. My nose is very keen. I only drink the finest wine. My acute sensitivity would not allow me to drink inferior wine. I never partake in wine that costs less than 100 Euros a bottle.”

I was surprised. I thought the wine was ok, but it certainly didn’t taste like anything special. Montipoopleir was drinking a lot.

“Woman!” Montipoopleir yelled. “More wine. And how about some hors d’oeuvres?”

The wine was inspiring Montipoopleir. He picked up a guitar and strummed a few slightly out of tune cords and said, “You as an American, growing up in that culture of great blues and jazz can maybe appreciate my mastering of this instrument.” He played some more off key music.

“I didn’t know you were a musician,” I said.

“You didn’t know?” said Montipoopleir with an amazed look. “I am in much demand as a guitarist and I have recorded several million selling albums. I have jammed with the Rolling Stones when they performed here in Paris.”

“You have had such an extraordinary life. You have got your nose into so many things. What has been the most rewarding for you?” I asked.

“As you know I have written many books on international relations, philosophy, etc. The President of France and other countries call me often for advice. It has been very rewarding to me that so many important and influential world leaders seek and respect my opinion. I have often spoken with many of your presidents in America.”

As I was leaving and shaking Montipoopleir’s hand he said, “Thank you. It has been wonderful talking with you and I am sure my many interested fans and admirers in America will love reading about me in your fantastic publication. You know, The Melting Clock Times is the best publication on the Internet.”

As he said that I could have sworn that his giant nose grew even bigger right before my eyes.

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