LUV - Hello readers. I love to suck on the butts of fags. If you came to my house, I’d even let you bum one of my fags. I love smoking cigarettes. And not just because I can make vaguely homophobic jokes about it. There’s loads of other reasons too. And here are some of them:
There are over 4000 chemicals in every cigarette sold in this country. A packet of 20 of cigarettes cost about £7 - that works out at about 35p per snout. This means you’re getting more than 4000 chemicals for only 35p. At just 0.008p per chemical, that represents excellent value for money. One of those 4000 chemicals is formaldehyde which is commonly used to preserve bodies. Yeah - ‘preserve’. You’re preserving your respiratory system more and more with every drag of delicious smoke that you greedily inhale down your blackened, swollen throat.
Sure, so called ‘doctors’ and ‘medical experts’ will tell you that smoking’s bad. But doctors are evil. Just look at Dr. Harold Shipman, Dr. Joseph Mengele and Dr. Oetker. There are drawbacks to the odd puff of course, but let’s accentuate the positives, shall we?
Impotence - this cuts back on sexually transmitted infections and unwanted pregnancies. It also gives you a bona (not boner) fide reason not to have full penetrative sex with people.
Birth defects - do you really want your kid to look the same as everyone else? A boring little mini adult with ten fingers and ten toes? Give the little rugrat some individuality ferchrissakes! Give them a unique look!
Death - with the increasing working age and severe pension cuts, who really wants to live that long anyway? You’ve seen what old people are like - they’re rubbish. Is that what you want to be like in fifty years? Doddering about on your space scooter with a face like a bollock in a bath, not understanding how to download your dinner directly into your belly like your grandson taught you three hundred times already and whinging that music isn’t as good as it used to be.
Nicotine suppresses your appetite and with the latest statistics suggesting that 260% of all people everywhere at all times in the world now at the moment in Britain in 2011 are obese, cigarettes can be a useful tool in winning the Battle of The Bulge. I know how pathetic the concentration spans of some of you internet people can be - in fact I’d be surprised if half of you even make it down this far - most of you have probably already buggered off to Google Image ‘bums’ or something - so here’s some pictures to back this shit up:
- ‘Mummy says I’m not a-s’posed to smoke ciggy-rettes…’
- ‘I zink cigarettes are dizguzting. Zey make you all smelly. Urgh…!’
- ‘I’ve had this cigarette in my anus for an hour now and I must say, it’s doing nothing for me.’
Do you want to be like Adolf Hitler up there and ban smoking? Is that what you want? Do you want to be a Nazi? Oh yeah, today you’re banning cigarettes, tomorrow it’s cigars and then BAM! You’ve gassed six million Jews. Well done.
- Steve Charnock
HAT - I don’t smoke anymore. I don’t need to. I live in London and work in marketing, so I figure I’m enough of a cunt without throwing foul breath and smelling like the charred remains of a wet dog into the mix.
But I used to smoke. I used to smoke like a fox and when I stopped - in-between eating too much cake and experiencing actual bereavement - I vowed to myself that I’d never be the sort of ex-smoker who evangelically forces Allen Carrisms on you or coughs pointedly when you light up.
Because I’m not an ex-smoker. I am a retired cigarette enthusiast, which brings with it the following woes:
- Getting up from my desk at the end of the day and all my joints cracking at once because cigarette breaks are the only breaks I know
- Dreaming that I had a cigarette, and waking up all a-panic
- A sudden passion for biscuits
- Having to ransack the house for a lighter when I want to light a candle
- Unquenchable Haribo Tangfastic addiction
- The three seconds between me telling a smoker I don’t smoke anymore, and them inevitably telling me about all the times they’ve tried to give up
- Those awkward silences at the pub that you can’t break by just fucking off outside for a cigarette
- The fact that my risk of emphysema and various cancers is only slightly reduced. Slightly reduced? Are you kidding me? I have a pot belly now
- Social acceptance from smug, evangelical ex-smokers.
And these are the things I don’t miss about smoking:
- Yellow fingers
- Furtively leaving my desk six times a day to stand in a windy alleyway between a Gregg’s and a Job Centre with four other people who I never speak to, giving the floor a thousand-yard stare while the wind smokes my cigarette for me anyway
- Lighting a cigarette exactly thirty seconds before a bus arrives
- Experiencing withdrawal during long-haul flights
- Experiencing withdrawal during long-haul flights and watching a movie to take my mind off it and EVERYONE SMOKING IN THE MOVIE
- Having to abandon my pint, friends and conversation to stand in a puddle outside the pub and be hassled by horny married businessmen and aggressive homeless people
- Cigarette butt-based litter-and-landfill guilt, twenty times a day
- Getting on a crowded train on a rainy day knowing that I smell terrible
- Chest infections with every cold
- Having to smoke
- Lining up with the skanks, dirty raincoats and tight-ponytailed coin machine botherers at Sainsbury’s on a Saturday to buy a bumper pack of cigarettes in a poor stab at wallet mitigation
- Constantly being ID’d by shopkeepers
- Intense 2am cancer certainty
So, while it pains me to say it – and although I will support your right to smoke with my last untainted, easily-accessed breath – on balance, HAT.
- Robyn Wilder