Tabber’s Tales.

We are now over halfway through the ridiculous propaganda exercise called ‘Stoptober’ and the responding campaign ‘Octabber’. So far, every day there has been a new Tabber’s Tale on the Octabber Resistance site.

So, tonight and possibly also tomorrow night (I am an obsessive self-editor if it’s anything more than just a blog post) I will be composing a tale of my own. If you have one too, the Octabber Resistance will be delighted to hear from you.

The Stoptober thing runs for 28 days.

Let’s see if we can make Octabber run for 29.


13 thoughts on “Tabber’s Tales.

  1. I listen to Forces Radio out here in Cyprus, the same programmes that they broadcast to our troops world-wide…

    If you think Stoptober is bad, imagine how bad it must be sitting in a filthy hell-hole in Afghanistan under constant threat of attack and and having nanny telling you to pack the tabs in every five minutes…

    it does my head in listening to it here – I’d imagine more than a few radios have had a military boot put through them out there!


    • Indeed – All major parties think it’s okay to put people in the way of bullets and bombs, but they must stop smoking for the good of their health. A slogan for election time, I think?


  2. Oh I remember my first experience of the fake cough and waving the arms about. It was in 82 just after the Falklands on a train leaving Kings Cross one Friday tea time. Back in those days, we still had *A* smoking carriage, but the train being full way beyond capacity, I was sat in the aisle by the doors on all my army kit.

    After the train had been going about 20 mins, I thought sod this and sparked up. The teenaged gothy student girl at my side started with the coughing and arms waving. I looked her square in the face and said “If my smoking bothers you, please feel free to fuck yourself off somewhere else”. She then said “This part of the train is non smoking”, I said “I don’t care, the train is packed and I ain’t moving anywhere”.

    I just carried on smoking, and slowly but surely, one by one, out came the ciggies of other smokers, and before long we’d got a nice little smokers corner going. the craic started flying and a good time was had by all.

    Before long the ticket inspector came through to check the tickets, and never said a word about us smoking. That’s all it takes is for one to start, and the rest follow, and if there’s enough of you, nobody dare say a word.

    The next time it happened was on the train from the Spanish border going through France, long before Schengen and there was passport control at the border.
    The girl I was with at the time still had a docker in her hand when we boarded the train, and this Swedish bird started carrying on about 2nd hand smoke. I had a bit of a hard day, and had about another 20 hrs to go, and I snapped at my girl, to put the fucking thing out.

    I then went to the Swedish bird who was still carrying on and said “Right she’s put the fucking thing out now, so shut the fuck up!!”. I then looked the guy with her squarely in the face and said “Alright?”, and he practically wet himself and slithered down in his seat. She was still muttering as I went to sit down, and he was trying to keep her quiet.

    If I’ve learned one thing in this life, it’s this and I’ve tried to instill this in all my kids. People will give you precisely as much shit as you’re prepared to take.

    I’ve had a couple coughers and handwavers in the past few years, but all have been outside. I find “The look” is more than enough to get them to stop, and if it ever doesn’t, I retain the right to jump down their bleedin throat about it.


    • There was one a few years back who was a bit too keen. I was at a bus stop, rolling a smoke. This raddled old harridan walked past with the hand-wave and the cough – I hadn’t even finished rolling it! I must admit I was too surprised to do more than snort, mutter ‘stupid tart’ in a tone just loud enough to be heard and then laugh like one of Bedlamn’s finest. She had no more to say…


      • There was another one… same situation. At that time it had become rare to see people smoking in the street. I’m happy to say the smokers are back and the raddled old harridans aren’t quite so keen to do the fake-cough any more. Not when there’s more than one of us about.


  3. *is worringly pleased as punch and not-a-little-bit-smug to have been ‘Mr October 1st’ *
    (“Adi’s Story”-yeah the Spider Jerusalem wannabe). Having read each day’s new tale I regret not taking more care with my own tale,which was dashed off between two cups of tea one afternoon, cos the Tabbers are an articulate, well written bunch….so much for tobacco dumming one down (remind me how many of the great author’s smoked?).


    • AARRRRRRGGGHH ! DAMN YOU GROCERS ALL! …”author’s”? Bleeding “author’S”??! They will drum me out of the Radio 4 Listener’s Club.


      • TBD – your’s was articulate and read well too – others were also edited. Some much more than your own and others about the same which wasn’t much at all. It is the curse of being a journalist that means it’s difficult to keep my grubby editing mitts of anything. Your Tale is, in fact, one of my faves because it is very moving and entirely honest x I just wish there had been someone to edit my own rambling account


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