SMELL…vital for a healthy life? No, but a happy one, most certainly. And just how do I know this? Well, who hasn’t been moved by those touching commercials on television, in which mothers, driven to distraction by their screaming children, simply turn up the odour control on their air fresheners, filling their living rooms with the fresh scent of a meadow breeze, and, in the process, find themselves transformed into calm and loving parents once again.

It plucks at your heart strings doesn’t it? And if only single parents in high-rise tower blocks realised that by creating an aroma of a Highland brook, they too could improve the quality of their lives – and those of their children – then maybe, yes, the world could be a better place.

But sadly, of course, for many of us, too stupid or set in our ways to buy sophisticated air fresheners, often our only recourse to bettering our lives via scent is by buying fish and chips and leaving the left-overs in the kitchen for a day or two.

And smile if you will, but smell and its role in our society is no laughing matter.

For instance, consider me right now. I’ve had a cold for six days, have lain on the sofa all this time and have washed just twice.

I’m only aware of how bad I might smell because of the hundreds of TV adverts I’ve watched in this listless state, warning me that unless I wash my teeth, my hair, my face, my feet and spray my duplex at least twice a day, the neighbours, my friends, my loved ones, and my colleagues will desert me.

I won’t get that promotion I want, that invite to you-know-who’s party, or that nice smile from the woman I pass every morning on my way to work (approx. 7.35am outside Pret a Manger, Cornmarket).

Of course, smell can be positive too.

I hate to think of the mortgage I’ve blown on men’s fragrances over the years.

But hell, it DOES make a difference.

I know, hand on heart, that if I am struck by a plane, a bus, or more likely a cyclist, it won’t matter how much of my clothing is ripped off, because when they roll me into the JR’s A&E, torn and on ice, it’ll feel like Paris (or Milan, I’m not fussy) has stopped by for a check-up (call me old fashioned, but I’m still keen on citrus based scents…).

And while I am probably the last sort of person to consider suicide, should ever one of my dear and beloved workmates suggest that all is not well in my under-arm department, then yes, drowning in Eternity (by Calvin Klein) might seem, well… just.

Remember, a ponging colleague can put you off your tuna roll and even lead, in extreme circumstances, to your belief that their body odour has, like the smell of a fry-up, become ingrained on your clothes.

So what can we all learn from all this?

Well, simply this – that having a cold makes you grouchy, neurotic, unreasonable, overly dramatic and slightly paranoid.

I smell. I’m sorry. Live with it.