Smells Like... What?

 The perpetrator in question is much too introverted to introduce his work to his family and/or loved ones smells of the coins in the bottom of a slot machine after the handle has been pulled only not to pay off and thus dash any hopes the person may have had for financial riches.

The tasteless oatmeal and the French smell of years of Anglo-Saxon oppression of the lower classes.

A George W Bush manifesto that only recently got lost among the undergrowth smells like freshly watered flowers, fertilized with souls of the innocent.

my friend's weird fetish mixed with a mystic warlock smells like Pope Leo III

Incense, bells, books and candles, mitres, cathedrals, bibles, robes, croziers and potato chips smells like one hell of a party after lights-out in the dorm at St Agnes's School for Ladies of Certain Breeding.

Something guaranteed to fuel the fantasies of one Vompatti smells like Winona Ryder making coffee in a run-down apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Berlin with a Dead Kennedys record playing somberly in the background.

A bit of a Vompatti-less situation to me smells like of course I didn't mention myself sitting on the broken sofa examining horse statistics.

Highly unlikely because surely the very presence of the fragrant Winona would make you forget your non-productive flirtation with the gee-gees for a while... and mend her sofa instead smells suspiciously like a synopsis for a web-comic drawn in the wee hours of the morning while listening to Leonard Cohen and drinking copious quantities of espresso coffee.

The last efforts of indie-rock fans to produce a major cultural breakthrough without playing any instrument for one time smells of your typical American Idol show that the sheeple flock to for their mundane entertainment needs.

The intellectually empty and seemingly harmless crap they stuff between commercials smells of something that you would see on a Japanese game show hosted by Chuck Barris and numerous vapid but well endowed blondes.