Sports kit brands have spent the past few decades developing advanced man-made fabrics and clever new materials. Everything is quick-drying, quick-temperature-control-ling, super-breathable, super-water-proof. You can wet yourself in your running shorts and be dry 300 yards later.

Yes, my sporty but slightly stupid friends, our kit is smarter than we are. The future won’t be controlled by the machines. It will be controlled by some rather fetching running tights. But something’s gone wrong. Like a GM super-chicken, all this space-age Cool-Now Wang-Ex Flandulator 3D inner-outer super-technology is rather good at breeding bacteria. It’s slimy and squidgy and, well, it makes you stink.

I, for example, am particularly attached to Asics running shoes, but three months in they are no longer socially acceptable. And when it’s been left in the dirty pile for too long, state-of-the-art jogging kit always starts to smell like somebody’s skunk died.

Several companies are returning to nature to battle the pong. The adventure-running specialist the North Face and the Aussie company Gondwana have opted for a bamboo mix designed to stop bacteria reproducing. Patagonia is using a treatment derived from crab shells that it claims does the same for up to 50 washes. And CW-X uses silver yarn in its fabric, which kills odour-causing bacteria. Merrell is doing the same in some of its cross-trainers.

Frankly, I’m sceptical. How can crabs help where ridiculous spray-on odour-eaters have failed? Can silver put bugs off sex?

In the interests of science - or at least to settle that classic pub argument (which smells worse, bamboo or crab?) - we have devised the ultimate pong test without having to spend six months in each kit. Facing our challenge, we have two bamboo-based tops, a silver one, some crab shells, a couple of nature-based leggings and some antipong shoes from Merrell. We also have a base layer from IceBreaker, a New Zealand company that guarantees no stink. What’s it made of? Pure merino wool. Clothing for sheep. Is it possible that after all these years of man-made super-clothes, we would have been better off with wool?

THE SUNDAY TIMES PONG TEST

Stage one: Develop serious personal hygiene problems I didn’t wash and I didn’t wear deodorant for four days. I tried to pick four days when I had minimal interaction with anyone important in my life but I still managed to upset the postman and, on day four, an elderly lady relinquished a perfectly adequate seat on a packed commuter train because I was sitting next to her.

Having achieved the sort of body aroma to which only a fortysomething French trucker with a severe PH imbalance could aspire, I moved to stage two.

Stage two: subject antiodour clothes to odour I dressed in all five tops, all two pairs of jogging tights, one antipong sock, one normal sock and the nonstink pair of cross-trainers. I added a heavy polyester, nonbreathable Christmas jumper (model’s own) and a cheap waterproof (model’s wife’s own). Even before I started exercising, I was sweating like Jade Goody in a latex catsuit in the London marathon.

I started running around a deer park. Every 15 minutes I stopped and did 20 horrible man-in-spandex push-ups, rubbed all my sweaty bits furiously and changed the order of the clothes.

The deer seemed interested but other joggers jogged faster.

After five rotations, each top had had its 15 minutes of fame or, as I like to call it, skin time. I know what you’re thinking: the first top would get off lightly compared with the last. Well, suspicious reader, I had thought of that. When all five garments had suffered first contact, I had a break for an odour-inducing lunch (garlic pasta and asparagus plus two cans of tramp lager) and then did the test in reverse (and a bit slower).

By now, other members of the general public were taking panicky avoiding action. “Why’s that sweaty man doing star jumps in a Christmas jumper, Mummy?” cried one girl on a tricycle. The deer remained nonchalant.

By nightfall, every top had had half an hour on the front line, the tights, sock and shoes much longer. And I had pulled a hamstring.

Stage three: allow sweaty clothes to fester With no time for airing or drying, I bagged and tagged every item, packed them into our boiler cupboard and left them for a week. This was designed to simulate what happens over a normal month or two. You go for a run, you chuck your kit in the washing basket/ on the floor/behind the sofa, where it festers for a day/week or two. Only after the bacteria have gained a firm grip (they start to reproduce within hours) do you wash it. Most of the bacteria go but some stay. Each time, there are more. And more. Repeat 10 times and you have a potential army of invisible bogeymen holding regular orgies in your running kit, you disgusting people. My moist-boiler-cupboard-plastic-bag environment was standard bloke behaviour - souped up.

Stage four: the sniff test Normally, my wife doesn’t mind a bit of man odour. She’s not kinky or anything. She just prefers the smell of good, honest sweat to the perfumed Lynx effect. Okay, she is a bit kinky.

Fortunately for this test, she is in the grip of a nasty bout of morning sickness. She cannot abide smells, particularly anything related to men, because it’s our fault she’s feeling sick in the first place. Cunningly, I was able to use her incredibly sensitive nose and her incredibly short fuse to determine which bits of kit are out and which, if any, are in. See below for the results of my test.

HEAVEN SCENT OR IN THE STINK?

The North Face long-sleeved Mercury Tee (£31.95)

First out of the bag and wife nearly threw up after a brave lungful of armpit (despite the “bamboo carbon technology across strategic areas”). “It’s rancid, stale, very strong. Like rotted testosterone. It is unacceptable, even in the gym.”

Gondwana Noondil Tee (£18.99)

The slimiest of all and the least pleasant against the skin and with the silliest name, the Noondil is 35% bamboo and 65% yucky polyester. It was “sweeter and fruitier” than the Mercury, which is bad enough in a wine-tasting but terrible in body odour. Overall, “very strong, with notes of gooseberry”. (She didn’t really mention gooseberries.)

Patagonia Men’s Capilene 3 zip-neck (£37)

Also polyester but softer than the Gondwana, this base layer features Gladiodor technology derived from crab shells. Pregnant wife’s initial reaction is: “marginally better”, but then I force her to take another deep breath and she agrees that it is “quite a bit better. Acceptable at the gym but not at a dinner party”.

Icebreaker men’s long-sleeved BodyFit 260 Altitude Crewe (£59.95)

“A natural choice in an age of synthetics”, this is the 100% merino wool option. Expensive and with a stupidly long name but gorgeous as a base layer or for winter running. “Almost like it’s just been washed,” says relieved wife. And I’m still wearing it two weeks later, unwashed, and it still doesn’t stink. When it rains, you smell like a sheep for a bit but that’s not a big problem unless you live in Wales.

Merrell Moab GTX shoes (£85)

“Not cheesy. Well, maybe a bit. A mild cheddar rather than a camembert.” Two hours later, they’re all right again. After a month, they still recover well. Clever. These trainers have the Aegis antimicrobial treatment but not much breathability.

Despite the Gore-Tex “waterproof but breathable” promise, they’re like water bottles on the feet. Good for winter fell-running (which is more what they’re meant for) but sweaty off the mountain.

CW-X men’s short-sleeved LiteFit Zip-T (£39.95)

It’s made with Healtha+ fabric, which is “antibacterial and odourless through the application of silver dioxide fibre technology”. On the website, it says they’ve used nanotechnology and everything. For goodness’ sake. Wife, looking pale, says: “Not disgusting. I’d move away but I wouldn’t change train carriages.” It gets only three stars because it’s got spandex in it. And men should not wear spandex.

CW-X Expert Tights (£69.95)

Wife refused to sniff. This seems reasonable. I really think you’re better off with some nice breathable cotton Y-fronts and some surf shorts. Even in winter. Even in the Lake District.

The North Face Lightning Tight (£34.95)

Ditto. Wife has left room. I’m not asking her again.

KEY

One star King pong Two stars Strong pong Three stars Mid-whiff Four stars Okay bouquet Five stars Field of daisies

Stockists: www.snowandrock.com , www.merrell.co.uk www.cotswoldoutdoor.com www.gondwanaoutdoor.co.uk