SMELLY PERVS IN MELTED CHEESE

The three most popular essays here this week have been hamsaplo, flake tobacco, and covered in cheese. From which one might deduce that randy pipe-smoking dudes who smell of fromage are a dominant market force. Everyone loves them!

But that would be wrong.

I am (still) single.


Cheesy pipesmokers are a drug on the market. I cannot attest to the melted dairy odour, which probably isn't present anyway, but as a man who whiffs delicately of fine flue-cured leaf and occasionally something resinous from the Levant, my social life does not seem likely to yield a love interest.

No one has in recent years run up to me and shrieked "oh you profound and complex-smelling dude, please run your well-maintained little beard all over my velvety bosoms you hot stud!" Or anything that could even be remotely construed as meaning (or implying) that.

Actually, no one ever.


I am disappointed with the modern world.




NOTE: a distant fourth is something nasty, about the horrid funk of Hobbit wannabees.
Who all own Gandalf pipes.
Hippies.

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