I have long since torn up my NHS scrapyard card. I’m going in the flames – crackle crackle – and I’ll be stuffed with tobacco leaf when I do. Good luck transplanting third hand Leg-iron ashes. Put them in ashtrays to pretend you are cool enough to be a smoker. Someone could make money selling me on eBay one day.

There is nothing wrong with my lungs. Nothing wrong with my liver. Kidneys report no problems, even that prostate thing is okay. My appendix and tonsils are in place, surprising for one of my age. Most of my contemporaries had theirs stolen by doctors. I’ll probably die of boredom, since there seems to be nothing at all wrong with me.

Not one of those organs will be available for transplant. If necessary, if they make breaking for spares compulsory, I will spontaneously combust out of spite. Nobody is getting a damn thing.

Antismokers will say ‘Well we don’t want your filthy diseased parts anyway’ and I’m glad to hear it. No part is filthy and no part is diseased (other than a zit currently in residence on my shoulder, but once it peeks its head out it’s a goner).

The antis are out in force in the comments to the news that smokers’ lungs are as good as anyone else’s. I had heard this before, second-hand, from a White Van Man friend who spoke to a lung specialist he once picked up old furniture from. A lifelong nonsmoker himself, he asked the specialist if it was true that smokers had black lungs.

The answer was ‘Everyone’s lungs are black. That’s down to pollution. You can’t tell if someone was a smoker by looking at their lungs.’

Now, in the comments to that article, here it is again. The specialist was in a very different part of the country. This isn’t him.

Mac McCubbin (for it is he), Canterbury,
As a former mortuary APT in the public service I’ve dissected the remains of over 3,000 people. It is not possible to determine whether or not someone has smoked either visually or through routine microscopy. I suspect the lungs pictured are from a former mineworker or victim of long-term asbestos exposure. Very misleading. As to transplantation, as someone who thoroughly enjoys his tobacco and regularly marvels at the venom and deranged hate-filled comments aimed at people like me, I wouldn’t donate so much as a toenail clipping. My 1975 vintage donor-card was hacked up on July the 1st. 2007. If I’m not fit to mix with, I’ll take my components with me ta very much…

I agree. I will not donate so much as a single cloudy cornea.

Every time I say this, someone comes back with ‘Oh, but if you needed a transplant you’d accept it’ and will not believe that I would decline. I really would decline but that’s beside the point. The entire argument is irrelevant.

As a dedicated smoker, drinker, and ignorer of NHS diktats, the transplant would not be offered. I will never be offered a replacement for anything, not even titanium joints or plastic eye-lenses. Pity really, I’d take the metal joints and even Winslow Leach-style stainless steel teeth right now just to screw with airport metal detectors, and zoom-lens eyes would be wonderful. But I will not be allowed to ever make use of all that money I have paid into the NHS over the years. It was all just a protection racket, a scam to make me pay for my own persecution.

The twisted fuckers are not getting my body parts as well as most of my income. They will use my bits to keep alive those I despise while letting those like me die.

Besides, how can I get into the afterlife when I’m not completely dead? Imagine the gatekeeper of whatever religion you follow telling your shade to wait, because your kidneys and heart are still alive so you aren’t quite dead yet. Oh, you’ll be sorry then, won’t you? You’ll regret filling out the little card then, for sure. Too late. You just have to hope that transplant doesn’t get passed to another, and another, and another. What if… what if your kidney enters immortality and just gets passed on and on forever? Think on that, religious ones.

Ah, if only I could be certain that I could take possession of whoever I was transplanted into, then I would jump at the chance to take over a smug Puritan and bring them down to my level. Now that would be worth dying for.

Sadly, I cannot be sure. There is only one way to be certain of what happens after death and when you find out, you can’t do anything about it. It might be a nanosecond in which you think ‘Oh, bugger’ and then dissipate into nothing. It might be eternal peace – I hope not, it sounds dull. It might be a massive boozer with smoking allowed. It might be Hell, which would have all the pubs open 24 hours but you are only allowed two units a day and can’t smoke in any of them. Oh wait, that’s not the afterlife. It’s this one.

I must get around to writing a will. There will be a proviso for the NHS in there. It will say ‘He’s taken it all with him’.

No NHS Dr. Frankenstein is going to make a new Puritan monster out of my bits. I don’t care if it spoils their targets and brings their income down to merely obscene. Okay, let’s be honest, I won’t care about anything at all at that point because I’ll be dead. Not that I care all that much now.

I used to, you know. I was almost Socialist in my leanings once. Well, perhaps in a Vlad the Impaler kind of equality – everyone needs a spike up their arse. That’s more true than ever these days, I think. Seriously though, I was once one of those who saw the Oxfam ads and felt it terrible that people suffered.

Since the smoking ban I think ‘fuck ’em, they hate me. The sooner they are all dead, the better’.

I didn’t do that to myself. It wasn’t being thrown out of every pub that did it either. It was the realisation that even if I found a crappy shed at the dead-end of a dirt road, surrounded by a nuclear power station, a sewage works and an asbestos disposal facility… even if I called that shed ‘The Cancer Club’ and employed only smokers as staff and allowed no nonsmokers as members… even if it had no windows… even if I had five miles of that dirt road as private so no nonsmoker was in any danger of even coming within sight of our smoky shed…the law states we cannot smoke in there.

That is the level of hate directed at me and I send it back threefold. Furor will know what I mean by that, and for those not familiar with the familiars, well it’s clear anyway. I send back three times the hate directed at me and it is reaching a point where the universe cannot contain that much hate. I will need to find a way into alternate universes simply to hate them enough.

No. None of my NHS-baffling indestructibility will be passed to anyone. The argument that I would accept other people’s bits to spend more time in this life of revulsion is both silly and irrelevant. I will not get the option. I am only expected to pay for it and then supply the spares to keep the revolting ones alive. Again, no.

There must be something after. There must be.

Surely, my poltergeist apprenticeship has not been wasted? Wastemonster doesn’t have one. It certainly doesn’t have one that leaves burning cigarettes in arrogant shitheads’ offices just before their ASH overlords arrive. It must have that. Oh, it must.

If there is no afterlife I’m just going to have to invent it.


33 thoughts on “Breathe.

  1. Pingback: Breathe. | VapeHalla! |

  2. Someone needs to get on the lurve curve, man. Love your enemies as yourself. It’ll take the pressure off you and freak them out!

    I hate organisations, rather than the zombies who work there. People are screwed in the head these days, after decades of intense mind control. The Cameroids, Moribunds and Oily Als act vindictively, knowing full well what they’re doing, but I’m sure most of the worker bees (or b’s?) act out of ignorance with good intentions and do as they’re told out of self-preservation.

    As a people – a community (not “communities”) we have to attack the common source of our problems: the subverted government.

    As for the afterlife, you already know my belief on this.

    My organs are going into the ground with me. Likewise, I’m incredibly fit considering my age and the alleged damage I’m supposed to have done to my innards. They do me fine, but other people would probably reject them, like they reject me, so I’ll spare them the heartache.


    • Someone needs to get on the lurve curve, man. Love your enemies as yourself. It’ll take the pressure off you and freak them out !

      Is that the one about doing good to your enemies and by so doing it’s as if you heaped live coals on their heads? I always liked that one.

      I must admit I do feel some sympathy, it must be awful to have 20 million people hating you all at once every time you manage to get a new bit of legislation, which only ever seem to achieve destructive effects,but having been sucked in by the anti-tobacco movement they just can’t seem to stop.

      I’m just so glad it wasn’t me!

      Social movements and human rights rhetoric in tobacco control – 2005

      “In developing a new strategy, tobacco control advocates need to build a social movement based on a more forceful public health voice, along with the strategic use of human rights rhetoric, to focus on the power of voluntary non-smoking efforts. Using human rights rhetoric can help frame the movement in ways that have traditionally appealed to the American public.”

      “That strategy should encompass a focus on voluntary non-smoking policies, using human rights rhetoric to its advantage, and on strengthening its public health voice to be more effective in political battles.

      As several advocates have noted, tobacco control will not be an effective political force until the movement defeats a political candidate for opposing tobacco control efforts.”

      “Their initial objective was a law in every state banning its manufacture and sale. Their tactics were focused. A politician who supported anti-liquor laws could count on the league’s support, and a politician who did not could count on its ferocious opposition. “The Anti-Saloon League,” Russell said, “is formed for the purpose of administering political retribution.”

      Well worth a read, for a normal person it’s hard to understand the way these people think.
      As I’ve mentioned before, the disgust you feel reading through these things must be very similar to sorting through the entrails of a rotting corpse


  3. The (translated) article I’m reading claims that 77% of people receiving non-smoker lungs were alive after the first year against 90% of the people receiving smoker lungs. Looking forward to see a native-speaking number-cruncher have a look at the data.


  4. Your description of what would happen to “The Cancer Club” is well drawn, shows the absurdity of the ban to a tee.

    As for the rest, agree entirely – it would have fit perfectly if written by me. Are you sure we’re not long lost cousins or something? 😉


  5. I’m reminded here of the world-view of some of Terry Pratchett’s characters, the Nac Mac Feegle. Pictsies, and they like nothing better than fighting, drinking and stealing things and traditionally do all three at once. They don’t smoke though, presumably as they’re too drunk to discover tobacco.

    Their considered opinion of the world is that they’re in heaven. They reckon they were very good in their previous lives, and this is the reward for it; alcohol, fighting and cows to steal so what’s not to like? The do rather fear dying, as this means that they get sent back to the previous world, which according to Feegle legend is really rather dull.


    • Getting shot by plod is a cool way to go. The image of half a million idiots rioting over my death appeals to me as does the idea of politicians falling over themselves to declare me a living saint. You don’t get that with cancer.


      • You do if you’re Roy Castle. They still wheel him out in all the passive smoking threads. Even though he liked big cigars and had a cancer that could not have been caused by smoke.


  6. What a joyous rant, very cheering, I agree with you completely.

    The law of threefold return seems a bit of a double-edged sword under the circumstances, but having seen that delightful Penguin cover on tobacco tacticss, how about creating a real “Defence against the Dark Arts” class before people start to sicken from the nocebo effect.


  7. I am not donating anything either now, must admit though I got a cataract op. with no problems last year despite over 50 years of smoking. I am just waiting for the day when I am refused treatment then the fun starts.


    • At the moment it depends which doctor you see. Some are fully under the ASH spell, others are unaffected and there are a whole range in between.

      Eventually there will be an edict from on high banning smokers from NHS treatment.

      Then we can start demanding the repayment of all the money we’ve paid in.


      • My great GP says he can see that day coming and is furious about it, he already only works two days a week and intends to retire soon, I dread that. That said, you are supposed to have a five year follow up for cancer, when I went for results for my three year scan the surgeon was not going to order one for next year, I just what! And he backed down right away and I will do the same next year too. He is a good guy but a bit brainwashed and I challenge his preconceptions by still smoking and being fine, and posing some difficult questions he can’t answer. I think he finds me a bit confusing, I was not terrified by cancer and don’t worry unduly about a recurrence maybe in some small way I am making him think outside the conformity of the medical profession.


        • When it’s clear the doctors are brainwashed, you have to ask ‘Why bother?’

          Then you have to ask ‘Why are we paying them?’

          The NHS is designing its own suicide.


      • The difference here is astounding. My general practitioner hasnever asked or even mentioned smoking. The Neuro Proffessor asked once if I wanted to try and give up. HE gave up before I had finished the first sentece of the reply. Never heard anything since, in 16 years.

        Oh… the Dentist, did mention that my teeth MAY look whiter without smoking, then he as well, never mentioned it again.


  8. The twisted fuckers are not getting my body parts as well as most of my income. They will use my bits to keep alive those I despise while letting those like me die.

    You could always make a will specifying that they can use your body parts, but only if the recipient is a current and unrepentant smoker, LI. That would throw the cat among the pigeons. I can just imagine the consternation of the righteous having to deal with a bequest like that.. :¬))


    • They’d just get a judge to overturn it by claiming that there are no suitable smoking recipients. Pity though, it would amuse me no end to know that my lungs would still be smoking after I’d died.


      • That would make sense. Someone who liked drinking should get a liver suited for heavy drinking and someone who likes smoking pot should get lungs suited for heavy dope smoking. Imagine the consequence of getting sick was an upgrade so you could do more of what you love. When the righteous finally wear out their tongues they could get donkey tongues to replace them so they can continue braying on and on.


  9. Well there is another option. One the seriously rich make. Spend $150,000 to get your body frozen, then arrange for your foundation to pick up the running costs and in 500 years you can be brought back to life again. Once technology has caught up and sussed out how to make frozen meat work again.

    Then you have the operation you needed 500 years before.

    Now that reminds me of another group of rich inbreeds. Bloody great pyramids, lots of stuff for the afterlife and boy did they screw up all those body parts. The Pharaohs.


  10. I would advise that no-one should carry a donor card, and at most, donation of tissues for transplant should be determined only by our next of kin.
    Why? Well even if you’re keen on donating your tissues, you probably would want any needy members of your own family to get first refusal, wouldn’t you. Well that donor card empowers the hatchet-faced transplant administrators to choose some other recipient, according to “our policy”, and leave your own kin to die on the waiting list.
    It has happened.
    Tear up that card.


  11. XX I must get around to writing a will. There will be a proviso for the NHS in there. It will say ‘He’s taken it all with him’.XX

    Now THAT puts a whole new light on “Burial goods.”

    It was NOT to help in the after life it was “YOU bastards are not getting what I have worked for, I’m taking it all with me pal!”


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