Day one. I am quitting cigarettes. Again. From the past 8 years I have been afflicting with the greatest drug of all time. A smoke, a fag, a ciggie, a loosie, whatever you choose to call it, the sweet baccy has nestled in fat fingers for almost a decade.
I’ve quit before, many a time. Usually for no reason at all, just to demonstrate that I have the willpower to do so. There are things that I will miss about it and here they are.
1) The smell. Non smokers hate it, they probably prefer pot pourri. Hippies. It is the musky smell of reckless joy. Even better is the smell of a tee shirt soaked in booze, smoke, sweat and perfume. It’s like taking a fragrance trip back in time.
2) The fact that it crystallises the moment that I have just experienced. It can be as small as a good meal or ven a quick fuck. How often can you take three minutes out of a day and think about something? Not nearly enough.
3) It’s a great conversation starter. Do you have a light? Can I bum a smoke? Simple but sly way to actually slide up to that person you wanted to talk to.
4) Annoying the self righteous non smokers. Not too sound like Jeremy Clarkson but angsty non smokers are pricks. Complete and utter pricks that fucking deserve a special place in hell. Did you go to a pub the day after the smoking ban came in? It fucking reeked of sweat and cheap cologne. I am now shocked to see smokers huddled outside like fucking calfs, you know what we have the last laugh. Clubs are keeping the heating up in clubs making you dehydrated and thus buying more booze.
5) My excuse for my poor health is smoking. Im not fat but running more than 20 minutes and I want to quit. Playing football is more an exercise in energy conservation rather than the game itself. I’m looking to pass first rather than take on players. Granted im built like a bear, in a gay and literal sense, so maybe that wasn’t a forte.
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