Thank You For Smoking
By Carley Hollis
I am glad that it’s no longer legal to smoke inside public places. Inside my favourite pub, back home, I’m able to see from one end of the bar to the other without having to use infra-red goggles to see through the mists of cigarette smoke. The seats that I sit on in clubs don’t release an all encompassing scent of stale tobacco which completely overshadows the perfume I lovingly chose, and there are less empty cigarette packets decorating the floors of the bars that now proudly bear that generic tattoo like sign – ‘It is illegal to smoke inside these premises.’ Yes, I’m glad that it’s no longer possible to smoke inside public locations – but I’m also a smoker.
I’m one of those people who doesn’t have a specific brand that I swear my allegiance to – some days it’ll be a packet of Marlboro Lights, or Blue Camels, occasionally Silk Cut Purples or, if I’m feeling flush, a packet of Sobranie Cocktail Cigarettes (they’re the ones that come in pretty pastel colours or pure black with a gold filter.) It doesn’t matter what the name on the box is though – I like smoking, whatever the brand is – and that’s my choice. However I don’t believe that my choice should impact upon the people around me.
I understand the dangers of smoking (most people our age do; it’s not that we’re ignorant, we’re just not worried about it yet) and I understand that putting myself in danger is my choice. I don’t want to adversely affect other people’s health due to my decisions – even if that does put a strain on my own liberty. That’s why I don’t mind the banning of smoking inside the clubs and bars that I frequent – because I’m aware that I’m not the only one who’s there!
However, all that being said, I can quite easily wax lyrical about smoking. I like the smell of cigarette smoke, I like being able to do something while I’m walking to places, and nothing finishes a good meal like a slowly smoked cigarette. (I’m sorry but) I think smoking makes you look like you have attitude, which I like, and the attention attracted from some cigarettes (rainbow Sobranies or twig thin More Menthols) is brilliant to get people talking. What I don’t like are people who think that I need converting from this horrible affliction I have.
Quite often I’m given some snippet of fact about how many minutes off my life one cigarette will take, or what the tar is doing to my lungs or the chemicals to my brain. People tell me these things and then look at me expectantly, hoping that their little chant of “You’re going to die!” will suddenly cause an epiphany and I’ll throw my cigarette down then and there, never to smoke again. I don’t really see that happening, and I’d really rather people kept their mouths shut and just allowed me my one (well, one of many…) vice.
As Oscar Wilde said “A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?” I enjoy my 5 minutes of peace while I’m smoking; I’m happy to think of the health of others while standing outside in the freezing cold, cigarette in hand. I’m happy to respect the wishes of others not to smoke – I wish they’d just leave me alone when I do spark up.
I’m one of those people who doesn’t have a specific brand that I swear my allegiance to – some days it’ll be a packet of Marlboro Lights, or Blue Camels, occasionally Silk Cut Purples or, if I’m feeling flush, a packet of Sobranie Cocktail Cigarettes (they’re the ones that come in pretty pastel colours or pure black with a gold filter.) It doesn’t matter what the name on the box is though – I like smoking, whatever the brand is – and that’s my choice. However I don’t believe that my choice should impact upon the people around me.
I understand the dangers of smoking (most people our age do; it’s not that we’re ignorant, we’re just not worried about it yet) and I understand that putting myself in danger is my choice. I don’t want to adversely affect other people’s health due to my decisions – even if that does put a strain on my own liberty. That’s why I don’t mind the banning of smoking inside the clubs and bars that I frequent – because I’m aware that I’m not the only one who’s there!
However, all that being said, I can quite easily wax lyrical about smoking. I like the smell of cigarette smoke, I like being able to do something while I’m walking to places, and nothing finishes a good meal like a slowly smoked cigarette. (I’m sorry but) I think smoking makes you look like you have attitude, which I like, and the attention attracted from some cigarettes (rainbow Sobranies or twig thin More Menthols) is brilliant to get people talking. What I don’t like are people who think that I need converting from this horrible affliction I have.
Quite often I’m given some snippet of fact about how many minutes off my life one cigarette will take, or what the tar is doing to my lungs or the chemicals to my brain. People tell me these things and then look at me expectantly, hoping that their little chant of “You’re going to die!” will suddenly cause an epiphany and I’ll throw my cigarette down then and there, never to smoke again. I don’t really see that happening, and I’d really rather people kept their mouths shut and just allowed me my one (well, one of many…) vice.
As Oscar Wilde said “A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?” I enjoy my 5 minutes of peace while I’m smoking; I’m happy to think of the health of others while standing outside in the freezing cold, cigarette in hand. I’m happy to respect the wishes of others not to smoke – I wish they’d just leave me alone when I do spark up.