Deep breaths, shallow hell

Sitting in a library, swallowing words like sweetcorn; eaten but not digested. A gust of warm air slaps me on the side of the head, accompanied by a blocked drain breathing a sigh of relief. I turn, perturbed, to find where this puddle of sound is coming from, but all is silent once more. I re-read the same line for about the fifth time, annoyed at my inability to remember where I had got to. And then it comes again, a jet of warmth and a gentle gurgle. Book slams shut. I know exactly what it is this time.

A loud-breather. A human being that lacks the capacity to co-ordinate nose and mouth in order to facilitate the safe, silent passage of air. A species that usually inhabits an enclosed, silent environment, such as a library, and clearly enjoys imitating large water-based mammals, such as the hippo. They can also be found in cinemas, lurking by the pick ‘n’ mix, only to arrive in the seat next to you as the feature is about to start, exhaling like an electric heater. They dwell on most methods of transport, mimicking the sound of a cake mixer chewing on a car engine with their tonsils.

The entire library grinds to a standstill as people look at one another in astonishment, silently asking how this cacophony of noise is allowed to continue uninterrupted, whilst a stifled cough, or a whispered request to ‘put your fucking shoes back on’ can result in enforced expulsion.

Somehow unaware of their heinous crime, these creatures lumber around in blissful ignorance, bumping into buildings and getting stuck. People that fight for human rights look at these specimens and wonder why they bother.

Loud-breathers are not ‘inhuman’ as such – they are just exceptionally frustrating. The monotony, the proximity, the actual noise itself; there is simply no respite. The sound can only be described as outrageous, like sitting next to an asthmatic walrus in a wind-tunnel. And in an environment in which concentration is paramount, walruses are clearly unwelcome. Aside from the obvious health and safety risk posed by the tusks, the noise is simply intolerable.

I am willing to admit that there are mitigating circumstances. When someone is suffering from the sort of head cold that clogs the nose, renders the nostrils impenetrable and grates the back of the throat, loud breathing is acceptable. If someone has a lung infection, a sixty-a-day-habit, or no mouth, loud breathing is acceptable. If none of the above apply, I can only suggest medical treatment; if they can grow a human ear on a rat, they can find a ‘mute’ button for excruciatingly loud breathing apparatus.

If all else fails, rather than breathing loudly it might be worth attempting to not breathe at all.