A manly scent? No, it’s an Xmas pong!

At LeaSt half of us chaps will receive smellies in our Christmas stocking this year. It’s the default present from our nearest and dearest — the female equivalent of blokes buying a bunch of flowers or box of chocolates. My problem, and that I suspect of other geezers, is we still have unopened bottles from previous years. there are a few ancient containers of men’s pong festering away in my drawer. henry Cooper extolled the virtues of Brut by splashing it all over, which had the same effect on any passing pooch that catnip has on cats — as did hai Karate. old Spice was aimed at the sailing fraternity, if the tV advertisement was anything to go by. today’s selection seems to be for the young executive, tattooed biker or anyone thinking of burying a body in the arizona desert. Stars and celebrities could associate themselves with innovative smells that reflect them: Lewis hamilton could call his exhaust, gary Lineker could promote Wibble — the aroma that goes on and on — and how about Insult, the new pong from Jeremy Clarkson. this Christmas, I fully expect more cans, bottles and plastic containers of foul-smelling and obnoxious concoctions. does Porton down have a sideline in flogging off all the noxious gubbins that fail the litmus test to the perfume industry? I know my beloved will present me with a box set of body wash, deodorant and shampoo. Come spring, they’ll be used as a moss killer, wasp repellent and greenfly spray. nothing enhances a woman’s presence like a good scent. however, on a bloke, it’s just not right. anyone turning up on a construction site, steel works, coal mine or power station smelling like a tart’s handbag is going to get verbally ripped to shreds. I can’t envisage me splashing on aftershave with the scent of an explosion in a chemical factory and going down the British Legion or pub. I’ll stick to coal tar soap.

Tony Levy, Wednesfield, W. Mids.