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Well now, o great ovine enquirer, so you are poking your hooter into my nasal activity eh? Your probscis seems to know no bounds when it comes to my beak and the trunks of others, such as Schnozzle Duante, a man renowned for his sizable facial appendage.I fear you are much mistaken about Caveman Keith. Alas, he was unable to raid the fridge when he felt a bit peckish because, although Mr Frigidaire had invented the fridge some years earlier, nobody had yet discovered electricity, so the damn thing didn't work.Instead, Keith had to get an arrowhead loan from the bank and pop out with his bow to sniff out some four legged foody type thing. A sheep just might fit the bill. No, not that bill, you should never attempt to shove a sheep up your nasal passages. (More good advice next week).Now with his tummy rumbling, Keith might well have had his sense of whiff enhanced by this hunger thingy, so he could sniff out the nearest leg of lamb. In later years things got easier with the evolution of mint sauce.These days we no longer have to go-a-hunting for our grub, but it still seems to me that if I am a tad on the peckish side, I can smell the Spicemaster curry house much more than if I have just stuffed a Lamb Rogon Josh down my throat.Perhaps after stuffing my face with victuals, my sense of pong becomes somewhat overwhelmed and can't detect comestibles so easily. So it could be not so much a case of the increase in your ability to sniff out grub when hungry, as a decrease when you have just stuffed yourself silly.Now, where's that sprig of rosemary, all this talk of food has prompted me to shove a shank in t' oven.