THE interminable Christmas TV adverts for perfumes are entertaining in a gruesome kinda way.
But I don't think they are catering for a Scottish audience. Where, for instance, is Not Proven, the companion fragrance to Guilty by Gucci? Or Cludgie, the ultimate eau de toilette. There is Tweed, but no Peat.
I can see a market in colognes for the older man with brand names such as Cardigan, Semmit, and Bunnet. For the rough younger set, can I recommend Toerag or Simply Ned.
Despite its recent global exposure in connection with a recent hurricane, I don't think the world is ready for Parfum de Bawbag.
The monks from Buckfast might go for a scent which can dabbed behind the ears or just swigged from the bottle.
Those of a combative disposition may like to splash on some Contretemps, GBH, or Square Go.
Men with a romantic streak will want to pay homage to their loved ones with one of the following fragrances: Bidey-In, Her Indoors, She Who Must
be Obeyed, or Eau de Broken Pay Packet. Or maybe Stoater.
The ladies may respond with a gift of Right Charlie by Revlon, Eejit, Unleaded by Diesel, or Gowk for Men.
Look out for the new range of Sunday Post essences: Black Affrontit by Ma Broon, Hen, Wullie, and Soapy by Soutar.
All sorts of non-celebrities have launched their own brands, so I may as well get into the act with my own smell called Oxter. Mainly because it reminds me of the Swedish bloke who went into the chemist shop and asked for deodorant. The assistant asked: "Ball or aerosol." He replied: "Neither, it's for my armpits."
I quite fancy Clootie with its undertones of cinnamon, cloves, and dried fruits. Braw would be good. Gallus would be great.
Ming may not be a best-seller.
Our national poet Liz Lochhead may be considering launching Makar.
Words which for some reason have not been adopted (as far as I know) by perfumiers include Perpsiration, Incontinence, and Clap by Clinique.
More than enough daft names have made it on to the list. Like Snooki.
To which the only reply is: Sno? Izzit?