...who has just fertilised the field which backs onto our garden, to come and stand behind me, fanning me with lavender-scented palm-fronds so that I can sit out in this clement weather, rather than skulk behind closed windows with a clothes-peg on my nose.
Obviously it would be most unreasonable to ask him not to do it again, but seeing how nice the weather is, surely it would be entirely acceptable to ask him to come down here and waft the unpleasant scent away from my delicate nasal pasages?