Yesterday I went to Mothercare on me dinner hour to see if the baby seat our lass fancied would fit in the car. So I asked the nice woman if she would check the seat out for me.
The only problem was, I'd had a curry the night before, and the gas had been gushing out of me almost every few seconds, including during the 5 minute journey to get to the shop.
I kind of get oblivious to my own methane after a while, but the poor Mothercare employee wasn't. As soon as I opened the car door to position the seat we were both hit by a waft of what can best be described as what a dog would have done after being force-fed onion bhajis for a week.
Unfortunately for her the seat belts took a bit of messing about with, meaning she had to keep her head inside the car longer than she would have liked. But, she was a model professional and didn't mention the stench once. I don't know how she didn't pass out.
And the worst of it was that the seat wouldn't fit properly, so I'll probably get one from somewhere else.
