LACK OF BAD ODOR RAISES STINK IN LONDON : BOTANISTS SAY VERY RARE BLOSSOM SHOULD SMELL LIKE ROTTING FISH.

Byline: John Darnton The New York Times

Admittedly, this is a country that is crazy about plants.

The major event of the social season is the Chelsea Flower Show in May. On opening night men and women with titles and diamonds sip champagne and wander around pavilions staring at orchids, azaleas, mulch and a cornucopia of other gardening creations and accessories.

One of the most popular and longest-running radio programs is the BBC's 49-year-old ``Gardeners' Question Time,'' recorded at crowded village halls around the country. A panel of experts dishes out tips on everything from invigorating a wilting sprig of apple tree to nursing a Corylopsis Willmottiae through a harsh winter.

But all of this shrinks into insignificance compared to the goings-on this week at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, 300 acres of horticultural splendor, older than the United States, on the banks of the Thames in southwest London.

For inside the faux tropical humidity and belching mists of the Princess of Wales Conservatory stands a 5-foot-4-inch titan arum, a rare plant from Sumatra, that burst into bloom Wednesday, after days of suspense, in a major occasion for botanists.

The last time a titan arum bloomed at Kew Gardens was in 1963. The penultimate time that yet another titan arum opened up - in 1926 - the crowds were so large and unruly that police had to be called in to control them.

Officials at Kew Gardens, while understandably reluctant to discuss security matters, are keeping a watchful eye on the 6,000 or more people gathering each day by a wooden box, 4 feet high and filled with humus soil, grit, bark chips and ground glass, from which the fat, green bulging plant protrudes.

The crowds that gathered before the blooming Wednesday filed past the titan arum with a mixture of awe and suspicion as the plant, protected by a line of metal barricades, just stood there in the focus of two time-exposure cameras.

Part of what makes all this curious is that when the flowering occurs, it is supposed to be an unpleasant experience for humans. During its two days or so of blooming it is supposed to give off a stench, which has been likened to a mixture of ``rotting fish and burnt sugar with an overtone of urine,'' that only sweat bees could like.

``It's a very complex smell,'' said Peter Boyce, 32, a Kew botanist who specializes in the plant's family, which is the same as the jack-in-the-pulpit's. ``The spadix is coated in a chemical cocktail. Starch inside metabolizes quickly, producing heat, which melts the chemicals. That makes the smell.

``The plant is pollinated by small, stingless sweat bees,'' he said. ``These feed on sweat on mammal skins, and they like that strong, bad smell. The plant grows in dense forest where the lines of sight are limited, so it needs the smell to attract the bees within range of sight.''

Wednesday, the plant bloomed all right, its purple-shaded and ribbed outer spathe peeled down like a banana skin, revealing a shimmering yellow core. But where was the horrible smell?

The question seemed to take on urgency as the morning wore on and it became clear that many of the visitors had come to savor the missing stench.

``A bit disappointing,'' said Jean Franks, who drove from nearby Chiswick. ``I brought scarves to cover my nose and everything, and I can't smell a thing. It smells worse outside than it does here.''

Clare Martineau, a tour guide, sniffed the air and remarked: ``That's not what I call bad fish. Maybe it doesn't smell so bad when it's not in Sumatra.''

Kew Gardens officials reacted defensively. There were too many people traipsing through, they said. Open doors were creating a draft. Finally, they brought out Boyce for an explanation.

``There was a big pulse of smell last night at about 7,'' he reported. ``The whole greenhouse reeked of it.''

He turned technical. ``There are female zones at the bottom of the plant and male zones at the top. On opening the females are receptive to pollination. That's the first pulse. Now the females are no longer receptive. Soon the males will shed their pollen, and there will be a second pulse of smell. Right now, smellwise, we're in a bit of a dip.''

That did not stop him from donning a gas mask and posing inches from the plant as a parade of television crews jockeyed for position.

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PHOTO Visitors sniff futilely Wednesday for the stench desc ribed in 1963, the last time a titan arum bloomed at Kew Gardens in London.

Associated Press