Not surprisingly, smoking is at the forefront of my mind today because I’ve kippered myself. All three pipes had an outing including one filled with the home-made. Far too strong! No wonder the pipes used by the original American peoples had long stems and small bowls. I’ll have to dilute it with some ordinary pipe baccy or get one of these. It’s sixty quid so it’s expensive but oh, doesn’t it just break every PC rule in the book? I’ll bet there wouldn’t be many antismokers willing to have a pop at me if I was smoking that.
It’s functional so you really can chop wood with it, then stop for a smoke. With the same thing! This thing isn’t just cool, this thing is Lake Vostok cool.
Then the Henri Wintermans, a fine cigar. I’ll have to try making some next year, or maybe I have enough intact leaf this year for one. I notice the price has increased enormously since my Christmas cigar. Wyatt van Mann doesn’t stock cigars yet… just wait for a decent price differential.
Growing tobacco hasn’t been banned in the UK but it surely will be. That’s why I’ve been seeding waste ground and untended verges and hedgerows, because then I’m not growing it. I’m just picking leaves and flowers. Along the riverbanks are prime spots as long as you stay clear of the paths used by dog-walkers and fishermen and it’s easy to harvest there unobserved. I wonder if the council will notice the pretty pink flowers in their flowerbeds?
Moves are afoot to make tobacco entirely illegal in Wales because making things illegal has totally eradicated the use of pot, cocaine, heroin and guns. Smuggling anything across a border that doesn’t exist is, of course, impossible. Unless the smokophobes plan to re-dig Offa’s Dyke? I wouldn’t be too surprised if they suggested that. There are quite a few on the English side who would help, since the ‘divide and rule’ game has been playing for so long now.
One day you’ll be visiting Haverfordwest and you’ll say ‘Where’s the smoking area?’ and they’ll say ‘Gloucester’. There’ll be frequent buses. You’ll only need a one way ticket.
Meat is today’s Smoking, so next year we can expect National Tofu and Lentil day for which I will have to buy half a cow and a gigantic bread roll. These attempts to control my life are going to bankrupt me, you know. If any antismoking non-vegetarians happen to call in here for a sneer, take a look at this. Then take a look at this.
Yes, meat causes cancer, heart attacks and infertility. Meat is rapidly approaching ‘no safe level’. All the same things that were caused by smoking and then by drinking. All the same warning labels can be re-used on your pork chops now. All the same. Is any of this starting to sink in yet? Somehow I doubt it. The antismokers will decry the meat claims as lies but accept exactly the same lies when applied to something they don’t like. And to think, they call us stupid. True stupidity requires doublethink.
Smoking, drinking and meat all cause sperm to hover about at the entrance of the womb, trying to remember what it went in there to do. All three things cause infertile sperm and the first two already cause Floppiness of the Little Gentleman so smokers’ and drinkers’ sperm go nowhere anyway. Their exit tube cannot be deployed.
And yet all those chavs who are smoked, boozed and burgered to buggery are supposed to be having kids at fourteen? Not possible. Those children simply cannot exist and any that did exist would look like something out of ‘The Hills Have Eyes’. There is no underclass. They’ve died out because they have been hit with a triple whammy that means they stopped breeding three generations back. So who’s getting all that money?
My father smoked, drank and lived on lard-fried everything including bread, so I don’t exist either. Since both my grandfathers lived much the same way including having the old-style chip pan that set when cold, my parents don’t exist. In fact, as far back as you care to go, my family never existed at all and for 80% of the population, neither did yours. I am a figment of the antismoker imagination, a bad dream, a nightmare they wake up with cancer from, Freddy Kreuger with lighters for fingers.
I have the wide-brimmed hat and I used to have one of those red and black striped shirts. I will have to have a rummage.
Smoking causes infertility but the hard-smoking council estate kids are becoming parents long before they are legally allowed to buy cigarettes or watch porn. Drinking causes softness of the diddly member but the hard-drinking council estate kids are porking each other with gusto and bad breath long before they are legally allowed to buy alcohol or join the military. Now, fat causes sperm to become so obese that they are all out of breath long before they reach the end of their delivery device and yet children are swelling up with infestations of smaller children in towns and cities all over the country.
There can only be one explanation. It’s the antismokers getting all those young girls pregnant, the filthy, Glittery perverts.
As smoking prevalence declines, teen pregnancies increase therefore the answer is to get the young smoking again. Oh yes, we can all play the causality game. Smokers cannot possibly be responsible for fathering all those children so lads, if you take up smoking, drinking and deep-fried pizza, it can’t be your fault. I would dearly love to see that brought up in a paternity case. ‘Me, Yer Onner? I was smoking me way through five packs of Bensons, chugging down Red Stripe an’ scoffing a burger, innit? Couldn’t be me. Look at the science, innit? Me dangler’s firin’ blanks if it even fires at all. All them scientists said it’s true.’
(Deep-fried pizza is real. My very first night in Ayr on my very first visit to Scotland, I called in at a chip shop and ordered a mini-pizza and chips. The man behind the counter unwrapped the pizza and dropped it in the fryer. I’d never seen that before – but it was the best pizza ever. Later I found that it all went in the fryer. Pies, everything. Strange how there are still so many people around…)
Today, naturally, there were idiots telling me my life would be improved by giving up one of the few things that make it enjoyable. Okay, so those who like driving would save vast amounts of cash if they traded their Ferrari for a Prius. Those who like flying in Cessnas would save incredible sums if they gave it up. Mountain climbers, stop at once, think of the savings on pitons and rope.
Yes, I would have more money if I didn’t smoke. Of course I would. Those Ferrari drivers would have more money if they drove Citroen 2CVs and even more if they took the bus instead. The flyboys would have an awful lot more money if they stayed on the ground. The mountaineers would be much better off financially if they didn’t buy all the gear and then travel to places where there are mountains.
Money is not an end in itself. Money is a means to an end. There really is no point in having tons of money, it’s just something you earn to buy something you want. What I want to buy with money I earn is nobody’s business, but since you’re wondering, it’s mostly booze and baccy. I don’t want a Ferrari. I don’t want a plane. I don’t want to climb a mountain, I can use Google Earth to find there’s nothing at the top.
I enjoy smoking. I have done a lot of it today. I’ll do less tomorrow because there’s no official arsehead committee telling me not to while charging me for the privilege of being nagged at, and because I am nicotine-saturated. I might even fire up a zero-nicotine Electrofag tomorrow but I definitely won’t touch one while No Smoking Day is active.
Ah, sod it. I have Grants at a bargain price and I’m right in the mood for another pipe. This place looks like a pub used to, ten years ago, with that thermocline-separated blue haze.