One can smell a passing cockroach. This is official. You can even smell its trail. I didn't believe this at first, but it's true. I will even go as far and say that cockroaches are somehow embedded in our limbic system.
This puts the cockroach in a distinguished group of to-us-nasally-discernible animals with the skunk, and cats after fish dinner. And the fish themselves too. (Though I have heard that a healthy fresh fish doesn't smell like fish at all but more like ocean. This could be a ruse.)
You can smell when a cockroach has sat on your newspaper. When it lingers under the toilet seat (they do linger there, my Auntie knows). And if it has just scurried across your plate. I now know that I have eaten from countless such smelling plates. Which would explain the occasional bout of gastro-malaise. I may have also sat on aforementioned toilet seats, in houses or bars where they had European toilet seats. Indonesian traditional toilets have no seats, so no way cockroaches can dupe anyone here.
Why does insecticide spray kill cockroaches almost instantaneously? I am so intrigued by this question because these are the same creatures rumoured to outlive a nuclear war, if there was one. You'd wonder why they can't stand a bit of spray that, according to directions of use, doesn't even require the person handling it to wear a face mask? I find this puzzling.
Isaac Brock has a notorious penchant for insects, and „doin' the cockroach“ has a new meaning to it now. These are vulnerable animals. But I bet he doesn't know they smell.
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