'It's not my fault!' says Steve. 'I was late and I had to jog here!'

'Calm down,' I say. 'When she gets back, engage her in conversation.'

He looks pleased I am taking my wingman duties seriously.

'Talk about something American,' I suggest.

'Like what?'

'I dunno! Your favourite American celebrity or something.'

The girl sits back down and I listen as Steve follows my quite bad advice.

'You know Michael Keaton?' he says, and she looks at him, unsurely. 'I wonder if he's done any new films lately?'

The girl smiles, but not in what I'd call a good way, and my friend loses his nerve and turns back to me. He has managed to follow quite bad advice quite badly.

'Michael Keaton is your favourite American celebrity?' I say. 'Michael Keaton from Herbie Fully Loaded? Mr. Mom Michael Keaton?'

'He's the only one I could think of! But it's the smell, Dan! I'll never recover from that!'

'Go to the toilets,' I say calmly. 'Use the handwash under your arms!'

'Oh, that's great advice, wingman!' he says, and I think he was saying it sarcastically. 'Maybe I should wash my feet in the urinals, too. Give me your keys.'

'What?'

'Your place is closer. I'll go there, grab some deodorant, comb my hair and be back in a jiffy.'

I hand him my keys and sit on my own while the American girl laughs with her friends.

Ten minutes later, he's back.

'I couldn't find any deodorant,' he says, sitting down grumpily, and as he does so, I'm hit with a wave of something.

'What have you done?' I say, and I pause, because there's something very familiar about that smell.

'I used room spray,' he says.

'You used room spray?'

'I used room spray.'

I sniff again. He has. He's used room spray. He's used Sainsbury's Grapefruit and Lime Room Spray.

'Why would you use room spray?' I ask, eyes wide.

'You're not supposed to criticise me as my wingman,' he says. 'You're supposed to nurture and support me! Anyway, I've thought of another celebrity.'

He turns back to the girl and starts talking about Miley Cyrus and there's a wonderful moment where the smell hits her and she tries not to let it show.

'I don't think I'll be requiring your services in the future,' says Steve, as we trudge away from the pub, alone. The girl has gone out clubbing with her friends and did not extend an invite. 'Your advice wasn't the best.'

'My advice? You talked about Michael Keaton and sprayed yourself with room spray!'

'Still,' he says. 'Would that have happened with the walnut?'

I stubbornly agree that it wouldn't.

In the morning, I put a peanut in an envelope, and send it to him.

THE SHOW