Here's an extract from what is the most important column I have ever written, for
@Telegraph: 'Opera has a BO problem'
telegraph.co.uk/news/2026/04…
I can highly recommend the current run of Rigoletto at the Royal Opera House. To hear Mark Elder in the pit draw every nuance from Verdi’s wonderful score is a rare treat.
To be accurate, however, I should say that I can recommend the first act, because I had to leave as soon as the curtain came down on it. I was gasping for breath, having spent that opening hour unable to take in a single proper, deep breath. The man on my left – smartly dressed, shiny shoes, trim haircut – had body odour (BO) so potent that it could have closed the Strait of Hormuz on its own.
I’m not aware of any objective scientific studies on this, but as a regular opera and concert-goer, I’m convinced that the problem of BO is getting worse. Many decades ago I remember having to leave a Prom when the man I was sitting next to in the Royal Albert Hall amphitheatre was – well, let’s say – pungent.
It was such a rare and scarring event that I recall everything about the concert that was being played in front of me – Murray Perahia playing Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto with the London Philharmonic Orchestra (LPO) and conductor Bernard Haitink – but I could take no pleasure from it as I was focused solely on trying not to pass out.
The problem at concerts used to be people who behaved in public as if they were sitting on their sofa at home. There was a Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 – the London Symphony Orchestra (LSO) and Mariss Jansons at the Barbican – when the man in the row in front of me seemed to think he was the real conductor, waving his hands around so furiously that the entire hall must have been distracted. And then, in those passages when he decided the orchestra didn’t need his help, he started smooching with his neighbour. I assume they knew each other.
When the problem is distraction you can at least do something about it and ask them to stop. Although I’m not sure we had it right when, as a student watching a performance of Boris Godunov, the man standing in front of me and my friend was breathing – wheezing – very heavily and loudly. “Excuse me,” my friend asked him. “But would you mind not breathing so much?”
What can you say about BO, though? Short of asking them to leave, there is no way of dealing with it. I asked the usher the other night whether I could move seats, but it was a full house, so it was a matter of suffering or leaving. I was physically unable to stay next to the smell so I left.
I’ve sat in every part of the Royal Opera House, along with the London concert halls. I can report that nowhere is safe. You’re now as likely to be snuffed out from BO in the cheap seats as in the ones for which you need to take out a mortgage to pay for a ticket.
I’ve wondered why BO is becoming more prevalent. I’m struggling for a convincing explanation. I mean, can’t these people smell themselves, or is their stench so permanent that they don’t even notice it themselves?
For what it’s worth, I think it may have something to do with the obsessiveness that is sometimes a trait of classical music fans – especially opera and even more especially Wagner, whose music seems particularly magnetic to the great unwashed. A lot of my fellow fans are, well…a bit odd.
In that context, I have considered my other passion, football. I can’t recall ever encountering BO at a stadium. There is the fact it’s outside, which must help dissipate any stench. But we are packed in tightly, so I’m sure I’d notice it. All I can say is that BO is worse at the opera than at football. Perhaps it’s that football fans are a bit more cultured.