The last time I was on a plane, I got tutted at by the woman next to me because I knocked her by accident with my elbows. She was one of those women who wear scarves to protect their hairdos. Her bathroom would have been shell-pink, its shelves lined with large, ozone-destroying cans of hairspray. She had thin lips and piggy eyes, and absolutely no empathy with my predicament. She had no arms to speak of, really, just squishy little ones to match her squishy little legs. I, by contrast, am like Mr Tickle... I’ve got yards and yards of the damn things, and nowhere to put them on a plane. Hence the occasional elbowing.

My name is Matt Rudd, and I am too gangly for most economy-class aeroplane seats. That’s not opinion, it’s scientific fact. Last week, to prove it, I had my body analysed by two computers, 12 cameras, some strange flashing lights and a clever boffin called Caspar at the London School of Fashion. But more of that later.

Much has been made, not least by us, of the lack of legroom on planes these days. At 6ft 3in, I’m used to wedging my legs in at the start of a flight and saying a prayer, usually unanswered, that the selfish bastard in the row in front won’t tip his seat back during dinner. But an outfit called Bodymetrics reckons that the width of the seat, or lack thereof, is just as critical to our comfort as legroom.

Bodymetrics is as futuristic as it sounds. A fashion-technology company that uses data from 3-D scanners, it has “pods” at Harrods and Selfridges where you can be digitally analysed for the perfect-fit bespoke jeans. Now, First Choice, the travel company, has commissioned it to compare airline seat widths with our typical body shapes, as determined by a 2002 survey, and work out how many of us fit. The reason First Choice did this is that, at 17.8 inches, they have some of the widest seats around.

Putting the “self-interested travel company commissioning a report to make itself look good” bit to one side for a moment, the results are interesting. It seems that women, particularly the ones with piggy eyes and hairspray, have nothing to complain about, despite having bigger hips, relatively, than men. In a 17-inch seat, 93.7% of them will squeeze in. Another half an inch and it’s 96.3%. For men, the hip bit is almost 100% fine at 17 inches, but the shoulders — now there’s the rub.

In a 17-inch seat, only two in three men will have comfortable shoulder space. Even with First Choice’s 17.8 inches, nearly 20% won’t fit. Which means First Choice is putting it about that almost one in five men who fly with them won’t be very comfortable. “Aha,” it says. “In 2008, we get new Dreamliner planes from Boeing, and there’ll be another inch and a half per seat, so we’ll be even better.” Ner ner ne-ner ner.

How did I fit into all this? By sheer coincidence, the people at Bodymetrics who analysed my 3-D body scan measured my shoulder width at 17.7 inches, meaning I’d feel all roomy and delighted on First Choice, all squashed on Monarch and Thomsonfly, and a touch cramped on BA. (They also said that I’m “tall, slim, with an upright body attitude”, which is accurate, and that I “must exercise a lot”, which isn’t. This isn’t important to my investigation, I’m just quite pleased about it.) British Airways says: “Our World Traveller seats are ergonomically designed to ensure maximum comfort.

Part of the testing process for a seat is to ensure that it is comfortable for a wide range of body sizes and shapes. Our seats have a ‘fabric diaphragm’ to support the body, lumbar support, adjustable headrests and a foot rest, allowing customers to mould the seat to their individual shape.”

I say: well, actually, I’m pretty uncomfortable in all these seats. Even though the Bodymetrics experts might say I can fold myself into the roomier airline seats, I still have gangly arms and nowhere to put them, they still feel cramped and there will still be piggy tutters.

So, what are the airlines going to do about it? They can design better seats, make the most of the new planes from Boeing and Airbus, or force piggy little women to sit in the toilet. But they won’t do much until we all start complaining vociferously, or flying only with Air France (which has the roomiest economy seat of all). Make sure, when you’re haranguing your travel agent about legroom, you harangue about seat width, too, so they don’t think it’s just me whingeing. Though I’m sure I’m not alone. The sumo wrestlers who fly on All Nippon (16 inches) must be pretty grumpy too.