These aren't the stories your mother told you.

No, these are the other stories.

You Do Underground by Adriana Valencia, narrated by Persephone Rose.

Yes, it is a little hot down here, isn't it?

I don't suppose that copy of Anna Karenina is doing you much good as a fan.

Ah, it's for the smell, I see.

Well, I'd call it more a fragrance, really.

It is quite strong at the moment, I'll admit,

but it's certainly overpowering the usual eude urine and train exhaust.

And at the very least, it's a wonderful conversation starter.

At my age, it's nice to find someone willing to chat,

even for a moment whilst waiting for the train,

even over something as unique as the new tube scent. If you were around for the last trials a few

years ago, that was even less pleasant, too abrasive, very heavy-handed on the citrus and the jasmine. That's why I gave this

new fragrance earthy notes. You could call it woodsy. I had to add in the sweet top notes when I realized

that a truly musky scent wouldn't work somewhere like Charing Cross.

You seem confused.

But I'm not surprised you don't know.

What I do is not what you'd find in a job advert.

You see, this scent you're fanning with Tolstoy is my doing.

And I'm quite looking forward to its reception tonight, the good with the bad.

It's taken me decades to get it just right, without stinging the eyes,

...