show these House of Pierre people. Maybe they’ll want to buy the formula from me.’
That evening, the Trifles and Selby were met by Pierre de Paris himself as they entered the Bogusville Bijou Theatre.
‘Good evening,’ he said as hundreds of people filed past them. ‘I am told that you’re the mayor of this lovely town.’
‘Yes, and this is my husband, Dr Trifle,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He has a little something to show you — his new perfume.’
‘A perfume-maker in Bogusville? This is impossible!’
‘I’m just an amateur; a dabbler,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Or, should I say, a dabber, since we’re talking about perfume.’
‘How very interesting,’ the man said stiffly. ‘But show me later. And please, no dogs.’
‘Selby will behave himself,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘It is not the behaviour but the odour,’ Pierre said, pinching his nose with his fingers. ‘Little doggies smell like … little doggies. He will cause confusion to the noses.’
‘Confusion to the noses? Doggie odour?’ Selby thought. ‘What does this perfumed poncy pants want me to smell like: an ostrich?’
‘Selby, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here,’ Mrs Trifle said, giving Selby a pat. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh, great,’ thought Selby as the Trifles went into the theatre. ‘Why couldn’t they have just left me at home? I could have watched TV or read a book or something. I’ll tell you what, I’m not sitting around out here.’
When everyone was seated, the music began, the lights dimmed, and Selby crept into the hall.
‘Nobody will notice me back here,’ he thought. ‘And I can watch the show just like anyone else.’
For the next half hour one beautifully dressed model after another came to the middle of the stage, turned around twice and then walked off again. Each time another model appeared, Pierre’s assistants sprayed a different perfume in the air and Pierre said its name slowly and deeply into his microphone: ‘Suspense,’ he said. ‘Shadows’ … ‘Melancholy’ … ‘Excitement'.
Finally it was time for the big moment. The hall went completely black, a drum played adrum roll and suddenly the air was filled with a different perfume. A murmur of excitement went through the audience and then the spotlight fell on Pierre, standing in the middle of the stage.
‘And now, the moment we have all been waiting for!’ he said. ‘The House of Pierre proudly brings you — Composure!’
‘Composure?’ Selby thought, sniffing a big sniff. ‘It smells more like compost. Smell—O-Surf is so much better than any of these Pong de Paris perfumes. It’s all a big con.’
When the clapping died down, Pierre cried, ‘Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, and tonight only, we have decided to slash our price and give you Composure at the special, once-only, low, low figure of only ninety-nine dollars and ninety-five cents!’
‘One hundred smackeroos!’ Selby thought. ‘That’s outrageous! All that money for a tiny bottle of smelly liquid! What a rip-off! Forget the perfume; this Pierre guy is really beginning to get up my nose!’
But before these thoughts were out of Selby’s brain a few people dashed up to the stage and began buying the perfume.
‘It would almost be worth giving away my secret just to be able to shout out, “Don’t buy that muck; it’s a waste of money!” Hey, now wait a minute! Hold the show! I know what I’ll do.’
Selby crept down under the seats till he was under Dr Trifle’s seat. Very slowly, and without the doctor noticing, Selby put his snout down into Dr Trifle’s jacket pocket and grabbed the bottle of Smell-O-Surf gently in his teeth. In a minute he had placed the bottle on a table at the back of the theatre and had the cap off.
‘Now all I have to do is move the table over in front of the air conditioner,’ Selby said, pushing the table, ‘and I’ll give them a whiff of something really good.’
Selby stepped outside the door again as the smell of tropical
That evening, the Trifles and Selby were met by Pierre de Paris himself as they entered the Bogusville Bijou Theatre.
‘Good evening,’ he said as hundreds of people filed past them. ‘I am told that you’re the mayor of this lovely town.’
‘Yes, and this is my husband, Dr Trifle,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He has a little something to show you — his new perfume.’
‘A perfume-maker in Bogusville? This is impossible!’
‘I’m just an amateur; a dabbler,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Or, should I say, a dabber, since we’re talking about perfume.’
‘How very interesting,’ the man said stiffly. ‘But show me later. And please, no dogs.’
‘Selby will behave himself,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘It is not the behaviour but the odour,’ Pierre said, pinching his nose with his fingers. ‘Little doggies smell like … little doggies. He will cause confusion to the noses.’
‘Confusion to the noses? Doggie odour?’ Selby thought. ‘What does this perfumed poncy pants want me to smell like: an ostrich?’
‘Selby, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here,’ Mrs Trifle said, giving Selby a pat. ‘Sorry.’
‘Oh, great,’ thought Selby as the Trifles went into the theatre. ‘Why couldn’t they have just left me at home? I could have watched TV or read a book or something. I’ll tell you what, I’m not sitting around out here.’
When everyone was seated, the music began, the lights dimmed, and Selby crept into the hall.
‘Nobody will notice me back here,’ he thought. ‘And I can watch the show just like anyone else.’
For the next half hour one beautifully dressed model after another came to the middle of the stage, turned around twice and then walked off again. Each time another model appeared, Pierre’s assistants sprayed a different perfume in the air and Pierre said its name slowly and deeply into his microphone: ‘Suspense,’ he said. ‘Shadows’ … ‘Melancholy’ … ‘Excitement'.
Finally it was time for the big moment. The hall went completely black, a drum played adrum roll and suddenly the air was filled with a different perfume. A murmur of excitement went through the audience and then the spotlight fell on Pierre, standing in the middle of the stage.
‘And now, the moment we have all been waiting for!’ he said. ‘The House of Pierre proudly brings you — Composure!’
‘Composure?’ Selby thought, sniffing a big sniff. ‘It smells more like compost. Smell—O-Surf is so much better than any of these Pong de Paris perfumes. It’s all a big con.’
When the clapping died down, Pierre cried, ‘Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, and tonight only, we have decided to slash our price and give you Composure at the special, once-only, low, low figure of only ninety-nine dollars and ninety-five cents!’
‘One hundred smackeroos!’ Selby thought. ‘That’s outrageous! All that money for a tiny bottle of smelly liquid! What a rip-off! Forget the perfume; this Pierre guy is really beginning to get up my nose!’
But before these thoughts were out of Selby’s brain a few people dashed up to the stage and began buying the perfume.
‘It would almost be worth giving away my secret just to be able to shout out, “Don’t buy that muck; it’s a waste of money!” Hey, now wait a minute! Hold the show! I know what I’ll do.’
Selby crept down under the seats till he was under Dr Trifle’s seat. Very slowly, and without the doctor noticing, Selby put his snout down into Dr Trifle’s jacket pocket and grabbed the bottle of Smell-O-Surf gently in his teeth. In a minute he had placed the bottle on a table at the back of the theatre and had the cap off.
‘Now all I have to do is move the table over in front of the air conditioner,’ Selby said, pushing the table, ‘and I’ll give them a whiff of something really good.’
Selby stepped outside the door again as the smell of tropical