Afriend of a friend lives in a flat above a Domino’s outlet. That sounds like heaven to any pizza devotee – the ability to open a window and let the glorious scent of baked dough and melted cheese waft right in.
But, after just a few days, it became a living hell, the smell absorbed by the very fabric of his house. Unavoidable and inescapable. No amount of carpet fresheners have been able to eradicate it. A pizza is likely to never pass his lips again.
It’s the same for the worker on the conveyor belt at the chocolate factory, allowed to snack on whatever sweet treat pa...