We all know about the potential hazards of flying. The wings could fall off, the plane could be hijacked, fly into a flock of gulls or the drinks trolley could run out of salted peanuts. But these are nothing compared to the real hazards of flying these days, as I discovered a couple of weeks ago.

I was taking a flight from Stansted down to Limoges in central France for the weekend to visit some friends. The flight was passable and uneventful, as you always hope these things will be, except for two exceptions – one right at the start and the other right at the end.

It’s all clean and shiney, isn’t it? Here lies trouble!

As the flight attendants prepared to demonstrate the ‘in case of an emergency’ procedure I noticed an unpleasant smell. Someone was obviously sweating heavily and had forgotten their deodorant that morning. I looked around and realised in horror that it was the male attendant standing in the aisle right next to me.

I kept getting wafts of BO drifting over me as he demonstrated how to put on the lifejacket and where the face masks would fall from in the event of a sudden depressurisation of the cabin. But I wasn’t paying attention. The girl in the seat across the aisle from me was also gesticulating wildly to her companions and holding her hand over her face, not only to try and keep the smell at bay but  to suppress a laugh. We caught each others eye in mutual horror and amusement.

Can you imagine?!

I was all too acutely aware of the fact that the bloke was going to raise both arms at any minute in order to show where the exits were over the wings. Sure enough, as he did, an overpowering whiff of stale armpits hit me and I descended into a fit of coughing and spluttering. Thankfully it was soon over and it wasn’t him who came round with the drinks trolley shortly afterwards.

I soon found out how budget airlines make their money – it’s on the cost of drinks and snacks. I had to fork out nine pounds for two coffees and a packet of Maltesers. I’d have complained only I was worried they’d send Armpit Man round again if I did.

Maltesers for £8? Enough to keep Armpit Man away

The rest of the flight was unremarkable until the end. We came in normally for touch down but hit the runway with the biggest thump I’ve ever experienced. Now I’ve been on flights where the landing has been less than award-winning and where we’ve even bounced once or twice before finally settling down on terra firma, but I’ve never been on one where we hit the ground so hard that it rattled the fillings in your teeth.

Everyone laughed but we were all slightly shaken. It took the chief steward to break the tension. “For anyone who hadn’t noticed,” he said, “we have just landed”. He went on to point out that extra care should be taken when opening the overhead lockers in case luggage had moved, “particularly after that landing”. He made light of the situation, diffused any tension or feelings of aggravation anyone might have felt, and got a round of applause for it at the end.

So notes for the next flight: take a bottle of water to drink, a clothes peg for the nose and brace yourself for the landing. And hope that the sniffer dogs are trained to hunt down body odour!