Ok, if you are heading into the underground during rush hour, its going to get cosy in there. That means you are going to be pressed up against a fair few bodies and possibly one or two armpits. For the love of Lynx never utter the words, Who is making that smell? Why? Simple. There are laws of chance that govern these situations and if you are foolish enough to ask the question, they will guarantee it is answered by a six feet seven bald beast who will acknowledge your query with a barely human grunt before making the smell the least of your worries. Under no circumstances begin to think that the little bloke in the business suit carrying his lunchbox like a good little boy is the one making the whiffit will be your downfall.