Saturday morning trip to the supermarket, culminating in a stop at the deodorant wall. (Previous forays into shampoo noted here and here.)

Me: There are too many. I am not “Wild Freesia”.

John: You could be “Summer Citrus”.

Me: Nah. “Fruity Melon” is right out.

John: Here’s you! “Radiantly Fresh”.

Me: I’m “Radiantly Fresh”? Have you not smelled my gym bag? And that smells like fermented watermelon.

John: Okay, maybe you don’t want to radiate so much…. Fermented watermelon?

Me: This one works. “Daringly Fresh.” It sounds…. risqué. I can be risquée insofar as antiperspirant is concerned. Now you.

John: Now me what?

Me: Now you deodorant.

John: This one. Old Spice “Wolfthorne”.

Me: What’s “Wolfthorne”? (Sniffs proffered deodorant) Dude, that’s baby powder. You will go to the gym and smell like a baby’s arse.

John: It’s not baby powder. It’s “Wolfthorne”. It’s manly.

Me: You want manly, try this, “Old Spice Komodo”. Nothing says “manly” like a venomous lizard.

John: Ooo! Give!

Me: Or there’s “Old Spice Champion”. Pretty sure I’ve smelled that around the gym. Here.

John: (Looks at the deodorant suspiciously) Champion? That might be too much pressure.

Me: Right. Dragons it is.