What is the burning story of the week? I'll give you a clue: it concerns a home-grown success story, a question of unusual taste and anticipated shortages.

Is it that England managed to beat Australia to the ashes for the first time since 1987, procuring a trophy the size of an eggcup? No, pleased as I am about England's victory, I don't know enough about cricket to sustain my enthusiasm past this full stop.

Is it Peter Andre and Jordan, who took the term fairytale wedding to its extreme last weekend with a Cinderella-style carriage, a foot high pink crown and a wedding ring made of 35 princess-cut diamonds (for her), hand-made ivory shoes and hair extensions (for him)?

Nope. Nor was it the British public's hysteria, reacting to rumours of petrol blockades by pelting down to fill their tanks, exhausting supplies and causing long tailbacks out of petrol station forecourts which blocked roads and stopped non-hysterical drivers from getting home for their tea.

Actually, it is a story about Stinking Bishop Cheese. Stinking Bishop is created by farmer Charles Martell from the milk of Gloucester cows which, washed in fermented pear juice, has a creamy nutty flavour and the aroma of (depending on who you ask) old socks, dog-poo or something long dead. A cheese so pungent it caused supermarket customers to complain about the smell of the drains; one whose French equivalent is banned on the Paris public transport system.

At the moment Martell makes a humble living from creating a limited amount of the cheese due to the small number of cattle, the painstakingly slow process and, one would think, the limited number of people who want to buy food which smells of death.

But this is all set to change with the release of the new Wallace and Gromit film. Previously the plasticine duo single handedly (well, more if you include paws) saved England's Wensleydale cheese industry from the point of bankruptcy with their publicised passion for this crumbly cheese.

Rumour has it that in the new film Wallace has become a fan of Stinking Bishop and, given the added novelty value of a cheese you can't stand to be in the same room as, sales are expected to soar way beyond demand.

What appealed most about this story was that, hearing Charles Martell interviewed on the radio, he clearly had no desire to cash in on this opportunity. Bombarded with ruthless advice by a horribly gung-ho woman (Sue them! Sell it to the Americans! Take over the world with cheese!), Martell gently insisted that he was rather a lazy sort and quite happy with his modest turnover. Then again, this publicity is likely to have an effect whether he wants it or not. Stinking Bishop certainly does sound intriguing, and I speak as someone whose dairy-related-derring do runs to a bushel of mini Babybells.

So expect a long tailback of cheese-enthusiasts getting in the way of the cows on a farm in Dymock when the film, Wallace & Grommet: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit is released on October 14. If anyone has any petrol to get there.