One thing I don’t understand, never have and probably never will, is smoking. The concept of blowing shit in someone else’s face, and not really caring? As I see it, smokers are no different to a person who has an illness where they need to break wind every 15 minutes, producing devastating results. Their illness is curable (and smelly, and unhealthy) but they choose to just live with it anyway. You’re sitting outside in a nice beer garden, and then Miguel decides he needs to let one go… for 5 minutes. The non wind-breakers squirm and try to politely face the other way in manner that Miguel doesn’t feel self conscious about his illness. Finally it stops, everyone breathes again, then 10 minutes later he let’s another go. You ask why the fuck he doesn’t just get the illness treated, as there is treatment out there. ‘It’s too hard’ he says, ‘and breaking wind makes me feel good, and I actually don’t mind the smell!’. Alright, as long as you’re happy Miguel. I also like it when you find a nice spot in the park to eat your lunch, and some arsehole sits right next to you and sparks up and starts coughing his intestines up. Thanks for that. I could go on, but I’ll cap it there.

This is probably part of a deeper issue for me. As a child my Dad would always spark up around me.. in the car, in the living room, even though he knew I hated it and had asthma. Bastard. So I thought it only fair that his cigarettes constantly go missing, somehow get wet, or have the tobacco replaced with something that wasn’t tobacco. It really pissed him off and probably sheds some light on why he battles stress beyond the levels of a healthy man.

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