Step Away from the Aftershave

I think that some people have certain smells.  Some people smell of freshly washed linen, others have that I’ve-just-showered fragrance, whilst some simply just don’t smell bad.  A woman can walk past me and I can admire her perfume; sometimes even recognise it as a personal favourite.  I can snuggle into Mystical Roo’s armpit and it doesn’t smell of BO, it just smells of him.  I’m charming.  But there’s a man out there – and not just one – who just smells rank.  And this isn’t sweaty man smell.  Or grubby man smell.  Or beer and burger man smell.  This is man who has bought cheap aftershave and apparently bathed in it smell.  God I hate that smell.  It always reminds me of the cheesy dude in the bar with too much hair gel with no individuality because he’s wearing the same shirt as about ten other men in the bar.  All of whom are wearing the same God damned cheap aftershave.  I should stop hanging out in bars so much.  Mystical Roo will start to wonder about me.  Anyway, this aftershave is just horrible.  And there’s obviously a lot of it out there because I keep catching whiff of it.  Either that or I’m being stalked.  But it’s everywhere.   In the supermarket, at work, in the shops.  I was actually following (not on purpose) a manky after shave wearer whilst walking home from Woolworths and I nearly choked.  I had to cross the road just to get away from it.  I needed some fresh air.  I don’t know how something can smell cheap and nasty but this stuff does.  It’s not a subtle fragrance, a delicate air of something stylish.  This is a slap you in the face, knock you on your butt, nose wrinkling atrocity.  It’s a plague on the senses.  The next time I catch whiff of this aftershave I’m going to have to question the wearer.  What is the name of this stuff and where does one buy it.  Then I can launch an official protest.