Don't look down
As kids we spent our free time climbing monkey-like in the woods and building site at the back of our gardens.

One day my mate Michael 'found' a packet of ten Numbies and we retired to a roost on the bare joists of a half built house. We passed the lit fag up and down the line, dragging and coughing. Then the nicoteen hit. I woozily recognised that we were sitting on a two inch plank, twenty five feet above the hard concrete foundations.

Getting down was not as easy as getting up.
(enile, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:30, Reply)

first smoke
I was about 15, and i nearly got chucked over it! she was a fervant anti smoker and i wanted in her pants - so it stopped there.

Fast forward 3 years, got to uni - within 4 hours was smoking along with the rest of my house mates. Yay!! Proper enjoyed Marlboro Reds, then went down to Lights when i met the Mrs. Then down to rollies as they taste better.

I smoked for near on 10 years, and loved it. We decided to stop, and it went. Occasionally i have had a cigarette to remind me - and it does not taste like i remembered it!

These days i smoke cigars - proper ones. Probably about once a month. Cuban, Romeo y Julieta, Montecristo or suchlike. They taste nothing like ciggies, and nor do you inhale. I still don't crave ciggies even after one - but a life with NO SMOKING AT ALL would be no life.

Nonsmokers just can't understand the joy of smoking.
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:30, Reply)

Chewing tobacco
Can't remember my first cigarette, but I can remember having my first wedge of chewing tobacco when at University in the 'States. It was like your first cigarette times 1000 and I promptly whity'ed.

Unfortunately, my second hit of chewing tobacco was passive: I reached from the pool table to pick up what I thought was my bottle of beer. It was, in fact, someone elses mint flavoured chewing tobacco spit receptacle. I took a big swig before realising. Puked for the second time.

Don't do it kids.
(kidcamel is due to call your mum at, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:30, 2 replies)

My First Smoke Pt. 2
If you've already read my first story, then you'll know that this is not my first experience with cigarettes, but it is the first time I smoked a whole one.

I used to go to a friday night event at Leeds Metropolitan University called "Star". It still runs today, but I haven't been for several years.

A little back story:
This all took place on my 18th birthday. In the weeks leading up to my 18th, I lost every one of my friends due to some vicious lies told about me, and everyone preferred to listen to those lies than the explanation of their "friend". Fuck 'em, I'm a better person for it.

Due to this situation, I was going to spend my 18th at home, and alone, until I was talking to a guy called Frankie (an acquaintance of mine at the time) who said "No friend of mine is going to be sober on his 18th!" and dragged me out with him to Star.

I was not too familiar with those around me, but we we were having a great time. One of my new-found friends was a guy called Danny, who offered me a cigarette, I was drunk at the time, and thought "fuck it, it's my birthday!", and accepted his offer.

With a minor bit of trepidation, I put the cigarette to my lips, and was then asked if I'd actually ever smoked before. I told the truth, and they said I should be careful, because I wasn't used to nicotine.

I'm not a very good follower of advice however, saying "Nah I'll be fine", and promptly took a *HUGE* drag of this Regal King Size, taking up at least a third of the cigarette.

Big mistake.

I sat there feeling all smug because nothing was wrong with me.

I felt the urge to go and get myself a drink, so I stood up and *WHAM* the nicotine hit me.

It was like I'd slept on my arm and had it go numb. Except it was more like someone had slept on me, I'd gone numb, then got the largest Pins-and-Needles sensation I have ever experienced.

I slumped back down in my chair, looking like Tony Montana after snuffling at that huge pile of coke on his desk.

Everything for the rest of that night was a relative blur, the only thing I remember was hearing

"Happy birthday, you stupid bastard!" through my pins-and-needles drunken blur.

There is always a down side to having a good time, and the next day my mouth felt like the Marlboro man had taken a huge beer-and-tobacco-flavoured shit in my mouth.

It was fantastic! I had friends again!


Length? King size, baby!
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:05, Reply)

Once upon a time in the Shire
I was 14 and trying to show off to an older family friend.... went something like this;

friend; have you smoked before?
me; erm, yeah (I hadn't really)
friend; because you're not inhaling it properly...
me; (starts looking like Thomas The Tank Engine)

and I managed to singe off all my eyelashes on my right eye (no, I don't know how I did it either!)

I managed not to smoke again for about another year, until a houseparty when I wanted to talk to this guy in the year above me. I decided I wanted something in common, so I trekked to Asda and got some cigarettes. Then went up to him and was like "Look, we smoke the same brand". So that's when I started smoking really, to impress a boy. It didn't work.

Years later he bounded out of the closet, much to everyone's suprise.
He doesn't smoke anymore, but 7 years later, here I am, sitting in bed, with a cigarette and writing this...

and my parents still don't know I smoke... They would kill me right in the face... I'm a bad and deceitful daughter...
Having said this, it was my mother who gave me my first ever joint...
What a paradox!
(Ryfelwr can't stop here... this is bat country, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 14:05, 1 reply)

whitey
when i was a wee lad - of around 14 or so, the big thing around our school was smoking hash. the whole hooplah of having to knock on strange doors in dodgy towerblocks to score little lumps of (seemingly) flat cat poo in little cling film wraps was the height of decadence. then there was the clumsy attempts to roll joints sometimes taking up to 20 minutes. these poorly rolled joints contained tobacco - usualy from a brand of cigarettes called 'Kensitas Club Kingsize' -the fag de jour. These fuckers were strong enough, but with the filter ripped of and a hefty belt of 'black' in there 'whiteys' were a common occurance for young master spimf - and drew much mickey taking. I thought it was more the fags than the hash making me queasy so i hatched a plan.

I reserched what i thought looked like a 'classy' brand. This was done my looking at fag ads in my dads stash of soft porn mags. Dunhill - those were the fuckers for a dashing young blade such as i. So i bought some. I must have been the only kid on our council estate with a packet of dunhill.

So my first cigarette was in my bedroom at 1 am with the lights out and the window open. Gazing out into the quiet steet with no sound but the crackle of glowing paper and tobacco felt quite magical as i inhaled poison into my little pink lungs.

ffwd 20 years. i eventually stopped smoking hash - it fucks your head. seeing my mate i grew up with smoking hash with being sectioned then eventually commiting suicide proved that as far as i was concerned - I dont care what people say. long term its a bad drug.

the fags. well i gave them up 3 stones ago. dont miss em either.

length - it looses length the harder you suck it
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:58, Reply)

Carrot spliff
My head of year used to tell the following story in assemblies about peer pressure and I'm sure she won't mind me reproducing it here, especially if any young impressionable b3tards are reading.

She was a teenager in the 60s, the era of free love, mini skirts and drugs. All of her friends smoked anything going and were constantly trying to get her to partake of various naughty substances. However, she was and always had been completely disgusted by smoking. There was no way she was ever going to smoke anything no matter how high it might get her, and that was that. But there was still the problem of what to do about her friends, who were rapidly losing patience with her boring, non-smoking ways. Did she find new friends? Of course not! She did what any sensible person would do in that situation. She made a carrot spliff.

Ingredients:
1 carrot
1 enormous rizla

Method:
1. Grate the carrot
2. Put the grated carrot under the grill until it turns brown and starts to resemble something that might conceivably get you high
3. Roll the biggest spliff the world has ever seen

You now have yourself a healthy, 100% organic fatty boombatty that, far from destroying your lungs, will help you see in the dark. Honest.

She took her carrot spliff to a festival she was attending with her cool, drug-taking friends. She picked her moment carefully, waiting until everyone was watching before she pulled this enormous joint out of her bag. They were all massively impressed. She lit the end, which immediately began spewing forth vile black smoke, but this did not deter her from attempting to take a drag. Her violent coughing, spluttering and vomiting was upstaged only by the hysterical laughter of her companions.

You can't get high on grilled grated carrot.

Mrs Becker, if you're reading this, I'm 25 now and have still never smoked!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:54, 1 reply)

Once when i found a pack on a bus...
Otherwise, i don't smoke, and couldn't even if i wanted to. I dont have the money to spend, and that might require getting a job or something.

plus i just don't like the smell.
(ShitBitch, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:53, Reply)

Often the subject of,
or original source of, many of my QOTW replies, my dad was a heavy smoker for 40+ years.

Just like smokers (or any drug-user, really) think, I too thought 'nothing bad will happen to MY dad'. To my shame, I even brought him rolling tobacco back from Spain, reasoning 'well, at least I know it's the real deal and not some fake crap swept up off a factory floor'. And 'at least it's saving him money'.

Back in August '07 he turned 65, and was well for it. Or so we thought. I'll never, ever forget him phoning me that day in November telling me he'd gone blind in one eye. I was at home, 20 miles from him, it was 10pm. I can't drive, and I panicked. He refused to call 999, didn't want to bother them. I begged him to call NHS Direct and he agreed. He rang me back ten minutes later saying a nurse would call him 'in the next two hours'. I said I'd get off the line.

An hour later, I was still very worried, so I called him. No reply. I started to panic at this point. 'If he doesn't answer in five minutes', I said to my fiance, 'I'm calling an ambulance'. (My dad's brother lives over the road, so he might have been over there).

I called a few minutes later and the phone (he only has a mobile) answered. 'Dad', I was shouting. 'DAD'. All I could hear were awful, sad groaning sounds. I was in shock at this point, I could hear the paramedics and a beeping machine, and then my aunt picked up the phone. 'We've found him on the floor', she said. 'He can't talk. Get to Pontefract A&E'.

I started to become hysterical. My fiance helped me get dressed and called a friend to go to the hospital, some 25 miles away.

That ride, in the dark, was and will continue to be the single worst moment of my life. I had no idea if my dad was alive or dead.

We got to the hospital and I was shown to a small room. My dad was inside, alone, stripped to the waist, covered in pads and wires and a breathing mask. I was, of course, overwhelmed to find he was alive, and awake, but he couldn't speak, could barely see, just made terrible, sad groaning sounds.

For the next ten days I was at his side in that hospital, losing two stone in weight and aging five years. He'd had a stroke, the years of smoking had narrowed a major artery in his neck, causing a clot to move to his brain.

My dad, once this infallible, brick wall of a man, lay in the hospital bed, unable to visit the loo, feed himself, speak or read. I cried in the hospital toilets, over and over, especially when he couldn't say my name. For weeks, communication was via a series of yes/no questions followed by grunts. It seemed unlikely he'd ever be able to live alone again, and I researched giving up my job to care for him full-time.

That was nearly six months ago. Now, he is back to 90% of his speech on a good day. He does get things mixed up (a common side-effect of a stroke), like the cooker and the fridge. (Edited to add - only when talking about them! He doesn't put chips in the freezer to cook!) He occasionally gets my name wrong, or wonky, but we laugh about that now. He walks with a stick, but is pretty independent. He can speak on the phone and go to the shops. He's blind in one eye, but as he says 'I've got the other'.

My dad will never be the same again, but I'm so happy he's the way he is, if that's all we get, we'll take it. He never said 'I'll never smoke again', because he couldn't speak. He simply got home, threw away anything remotely smoking-related, and washed out his glass ashtray. He now keeps mints in it.

I can't make people stop smoking and this story isn't a 'scare tactic' or anything. It was my dad's choice to smoke, and back then, it was promoted as making you strong and healthy. When people talk about smoking, I just can't understand why they do it - it's smelly, it's addictive, and it's bloody expensive. But each to their own. I'm just so fucking glad my dad is here.
(Northern Lovely, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:48, Reply)

My First Smoke, Pt. 1
I have three 'first cigarette' stories, each of which has ended in a peculiar or obvious way. This is the first.

All my life my father has been a smoker, quite a heavy one in fact, and woe betide anybody who gets in his way when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while.

As a child of about 5 years old, after having my granddad threaten to "kill dat feckin' Roland Rat!" with his shotgun and upsetting me (I had a Roland Rat toy that I took EVERYWHERE), I remember asking my father why he smoked.

"It relaxes me." was his response.

Being that I just had my favourite childhood toy threatened with a brutal murder, I felt that i should be relaxed too.

"Can I try?" asks my younger self.

"Sure." My father responds, handing down to me his cancer stick.

Not quite knowing what to do, I sucked on the end of the cigarette (The filter end; I was inexperienced, but not stupid), and thought I just had to breathe in.

The line from "Drowse" by Queen on the "A Day at the Races" came into my head:

"Thinkin' it right. Doin' it Wrong."

*COUGH*

*SPLUTTER*

*HACK*

*BELM*

*DRY HEAVE*

*VOMIT*

Taught me a lesson I guess, as was my father's aim. Curiosity can be a cruel mistress. I did chuckle though a few years back when reading the Calvin and Hobbes' strip where Calvin's mother lets him try cigarettes, cumulating in a "Trusting your parents can be hazardous to your health". Never seen a comic mirror my own life experience before!

Actually, I tell a lie. The Garfield (yes, I know it's shit) strip on the day I was born has the word "Bonk" in it several times, So I guess that's a good reflection of how I like things.


Three inches, with a glowing red tip.
(Lythium deals in lead, my friend., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:42, Reply)

"Social smokers"
What's all that about then?
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:39, Reply)

I had my first ciggie at 15....
...I always thought they were the devils work before that. It was just something extra to do in my boring teenage life. I went on to smoke about 10-15 a day until I was about 24.
I'm 26 now and I have got much better. I only smoke when drinking alcohol these days(and no I do not wake up to a vodka!). If I lay off the hooch for a few days then I don't smoke at all but as soon as a vodka and coke hits my lips I crave the ciggies.
Hoping to give up totally soon but I reckon this will take being tee-total for a month. Dump!
( DUMBLONDE is a rubber lover girl, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:20, Reply)

Uncle Ian
Affectionately known as "the wrinkled walnut" or the "dried prune" Uncle Ian was an old fogey that presumeably took up smoking sometime around world war 2 and never stopped.

Once he became a pensioner and had to watch the pennies a bit he was faced with the choice of fags or worldly goods. Thus he drove a crappy beige Metro but kept smoking.

This embarrissment to the British motor industry was the victim of many a joke by me as it should have been.

Eventually time took its course and the fags led to disease and the hospital decided Ians left leg had to come off at the knee.

I found out about this a month or so after the Op and he was on the road to recovery. An abridged version of the conversation went like this:

"You know Uncle Ian had to have his leg amputated?"
"No, which one?"
"Left one I think"
.....
"Guess that means he can't drive that crap old Metro anymore then!"

Look of disgust from my mother.

Then dad pipes up "Think he traded it in for an automatic".
"What'd he get?"
"A Rover 25"
"At least it's not beige".


So there you have it. Smoking fucks you up AND you end up with shite cars.
20 a day? That'll be a Daewoo.
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:11, Reply)

How to stop smoking
I lived with S and J while an undergrad. S told us one evening about her grandmother, an inveterate smoker who, as a result of her habit, had developed poor circulation.

How poor? So poor that a toe had had to be amputated.

Followed by another toe. She continued to smoke.

The rest of the toes went soon after. The cigarettes, by contrast, stayed.

The latest amputation was a foot. Still, S's grandmother refused to give up the fags.

J was not always the brightest person in the world. "They should cut her hands off next time," she offered, helpfully. "That'll stop her."
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 13:01, 4 replies)

I was young and stupid
I was out with a couple of good mates of mine, who shall be know an N and C.

We'd been out on the beers on an all dayer, C and N were quite drunk, as was I but all the pubs had closed (bummer).

As a result we decided to head round to C's house and have a couple of late beers in the back garden (summers night)

N and C lit up a couple of smokes, I've never smoked before then (hence the story here I suppose) even though I was 18 at this point!
It looked to my hazy eyes that N and C were enjoying these small paper tubes of nicotene heaven but I was too scared to try one.

N and C had to nip off for berer and a piss so asked me to look after the smokes, and here's where it gets a bit hazy.

Apparently when N and C got back they found me sitting in the chair outside with not one but 2 cigarettes in my mouth, both smoked down to the filter (they were quite full to begin with)

So yes, in order to be 'special' i decided to smoke 2 cigs at once, C and N were not best impressed, they came back saying, 'woah, dude, you're like smoking and stuff' but hey, i was drunk!

Only tried it a couple of times since, always when drunk tho now!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:56, Reply)

Can't remember too much detail
I was 13 and walking round town with my mates, one of them offered me a cig and not wanting to look soft and boring, i accepted.

Now I'm on 5 a day and occasionally my lungs hurt.

But I refuse to stop because i love smoking, i make conversations with people outside pubs and clubs. Its actually quite fun for me to smoke.
(Big Ginge putting the laughter into manslaughter, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:56, Reply)

Wierd kid
The first time I ever smoked was when I was over in Holland aged about 9 staying with my grandparents who were both heavy smokers. The fact that I chose not to steal one of their cigarettes, but instead chose to inhale the smoke from my toy rifle (which fired caps) is beyond me.

Still I started smoking at 14, and still do to this day - actual roll ups may I add, not fumes from burnt toast or car fumes!

The good one thing I will say about smoking that I'm glad about (apart from obviously making me look so cool) is that it taught me about addiction, and I've had a lot more respect for the other drugs that Ive taken over th years.

Length... 6ft 3, smoking really does stunt your growth.
( @><|= w0nu!) or cunt to my friends, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:52, Reply)

Cancer Stick!! Hit the deck!
Well my VERY first smoke I guess was uterinal (sp?). My mom smoked while pregnant with me before all the 'Smoking while pregnant messes up your children' messages came out.

Most of my youth was spent watching my parents suck down the little white sticks that I couldn't really see the appeal of; but at the same time longed to be part of the club, kind of like a rite of passage into adulthood I would be given my first cancer stick and joyfully reduce my lifespan along with my parents.

My first actual physical cigarette was when I was about 14. We had met a guy we knew at school who was old enough to buy them so me & my mate convinced him to let us try one each.

I remember it being a warm summers day and after getting our first smokes we hid on an embankment in order to take our first drags.

*suck...* *blow...*

"Eh, that wasn't so hard. Tastes like crap but I was kinda expecting coughing like you see on the TV"

A few weeks later and joining in with the other kids smoking I was trying to analyise where I was going wrong. Its not like you get instructions on these things!!

"You have to take it back" a kid tells me.

"How the hell do you do that"?

"Well you breath in, and then breath in again"

"What? How the hell can you breath in twice and breath out once!?"

It didn't make sence at the time but I tried anyway.

A few moments later I realised what all the coughing was about.

I never really took it on 'full time' after that. Couldn't afford it really but I would take one if offered.

A few years after my 16th birthday I smoked 'full time' but it still confused me when people would get gittery on flights without a smoke? I never really got (or do now) have any withdrawal symptoms.

My parents still smoke but I dont (I do have one occasionally as my guilty secret :P) but I can seem to pick it up and put it down without a problem.

I still enjoy the smell of good tabacco and I find smokers are probably the better bunch of people to hang out with.
(ldwater otherwise known as a 'jive turkey', Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:46, Reply)

My first ever Fag
Smooth, i remember it being very smooth. The taste was odd, almost bitter and acrid, but, somehow pleasing. I found it hard to breath, but, i quite liked the suffication.

I just wish he had not fucked my bum hole quite so hard.
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:41, Reply)

Ben
Ben was a fantastic guy, but, he was the type of person that was open to the power of suggestion. If you told him it is very cool to do something – he would do it – and fail.

We were all around 16 and it was the popular girl at schools birthday. She decided she wanted a 70s themed party and so her parents hired a hall, disco, lights and DJ. Everyone had to come in appropriate fancy dress. Ben decided that a sure fire way to pull would be to dress up just like John Travolta in Saturday night fever. He spent a week learning the dance moves. He got them perfect. He was going to be a star.

On the night he asked the DJ to play his song. As he was standing by the side of the dance floor I went up to him to try and sooth his clearly obvious nerves. “want a fag mate” I said. He looked at it and shook his head. “It will make you look even cooler”. He looked at the little white stick again and went straight for it. I lit it for him and he begun to smoke, coughed a little, then continued.

The Bee Gees “You should be dancing” started picking up. This was his moment. With fag in mouth he started his routine. Within seconds everyone was looking at him and clapping to the music. He had a crowd and he was at the very centre of it. He was cool. The girls were drooling. He was seconds from the finale which would make him THE fanny magnet of the night….

But

The still lit cig fell from his mouth onto his cheap rented white polyester suit.

Within seconds his arm was on fire. People standing close chucked there drink over him to put it out, this made the polished wood hall floor incredibly slippery and while manically flapping his arms like he managed to fall over head first and smack his head.
He went out cold for about thirty seconds.

I often wonder if he even noticed that the DJ had quickly changed the track to Disco Inferno.

I do know that he only ever smoked that one cancer stick in his life.
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:30, 2 replies)

You’ve touched a nerve I’m afraid…

I am borderline OCD when it comes to smoking…or rather NOT smoking. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those ‘Urrgh!!! Put that out, it’s a disgusting habit’ mouthy wankers that gets on the funbags of people who are perfectly capable of making their own choices in life. Nah, that’s not me.

Besides, I have too many friends and family who smoke like troopers; yet I happen to love them so I don’t really want to piss over their collective chips. I am in a band so have regularly been in pubs and clubs my whole life. Also, I am way too sociable a person so I understand that if you start lecturing people of the ‘Evils of the demon tobacco’ etc you just make yourself look like a proper twat.

So I put up with it…but I hate it. Smoking is just something that I don’t do…and will NEVER do…here’s a couple of reasons why.

First…of course I don’t like the smell etc – the way it sticks to clothes and walls, it gets in my throat makes me gag etc., but by far and away the worst things about it for me are the memories that are triggered in my mind when I see and smell it.

At the merest whiff of cigarette smoke I am metaphorically transported to the back seat of a shit heap old Hillman Avenger in the 70’s. I am about 5 years old and I am surrounded by the foul cloud given off by my chain-smoking parents. I was always told on every journey that I wasn’t allowed to open the window because the car would get too cold. I was regularly as sick as a dog with somebody's fingers down it's throat. That’s where my revulsion begins.

Aged about 7 I was told by my parents that I had to learn to play the trumpet. I had no choice in the matter – they had spunked about £40 that they couldn’t afford on a trumpet for my brother who had proceeded to try it for 5 minutes before getting bored with it. They weren’t going to waste the money, so they chucked it at me and said ‘Learn that fucker!’.

I actually enjoyed it and was quite good (taught myself the Star Wars theme and everything) I ended up in the Coventry Youth Orchestra and would take lessons with two other kids every week from a man called Mr Baird.

Mr Baird was a giant of a man in size and personality. He was probably only 6’2”ish, but to a little Pooflake he seemed like Hagrid from Harry Potter. Barrel-chested and with a cavernous, booming voice that would put Brian Blessed to shame, he taught with an enthusiasm and patience that you get from only the finest teachers.

So it was a bit of a surprise to see this gargantuan fellow come into school one day looking like a drained shadow. He sat before the three of us and broke down in tears. As he sobbed, he informed his three shocked students that he had just that minute returned from the hospital where he had watched his best mate die. He described how he stood helpless as his friend tried to cough his own intestines out through his mouth and went into full gruesome detail about the poor bloke’s struggling last moments alive. His sorrow then turned to anger as he pointed to each one of us and bellowed “IF I EVER CATCH ANY OF YOU SMOKING I’LL…..I’LL…..please kids….just promise me you will NEVER smoke”

Terrified, and as a tear ran down my cheek, the three of us shook our heads in silence.

(Why he came straight back into school after that experience I have no idea, but Mr Baird was a professional so he probably felt that life must go on and all that. He’s a braver man than I).

Of course, the hardest time to ‘resist’ smoking is when you’re a kid and everybody around you starts to experiment with it. Fortunately, by this time I was already a devout non smoker and after a couple of simple refusals, people simply stopped asking me if I wanted a cigarette. Even kids can tell if you're serious when you say ‘No thanks’. Peer-pressure wise; I reckon I got through that period in my life pretty easy.

I lost both my Nans to smoking-related cancer. I was informed gently and thankfully spared the details. Mum & Dad though, like I had mentioned before, continued to smoke like chimneys on a veritable sponsored smokathon. 60 or so Dunhills a day was a staple of my mum’s life – my dad rolled his own. But smoking hit my mum eventually…pretty hard.

Firstly, she developed emphysema which I believe is relatively par for the course for heavy smokers…I remember her face as she told me on return from the doctors once how she had taken one of those 'lung capacity' tests and it had hardly registered a reading.

One of my most vivid childhood memories was bolting to the stairs in our house (to run up them using my hands as well as my feet of course) to be confronted by my coughing, spluttering, wheezing mum. She had needed to stop to catch her breath halfway up. After half a fucking flight of stairs! Again, at that point something triggered in my tiny mind that smoking is not all ‘fun fun fun’. I cried as I started to come to terms with my mum’s mortality, however, mum was too knackered to even come and give me a cuddle.

She later developed cancer. She was lucky. She beat it. She’s never actually told us where the cancer was because I think it was in an embarrassing place and that’s what she’s like. Somewhere during her treatment she had the inevitable conversation with the doctor that goes something like:

“You have to stop smoking, you stupid mare. Now. From this moment on. None of this ‘I’ll cut down’ namby-pampby bollocks. Just stop. Straight away. No excuses. Never have another cigarette. If you do, you are going to die VERY soon.”

I’m proud to say that she listened. She stopped. With willpower alone and from that moment on she has never smoked again. Of course, she’s still a physical wreck, but she’s stayed alive long enough to go mental. Fair play to her.

My dad quit too to support her. However he only lasted a couple of months before going back on the baccy. He still smokes heavily, but also drinks enough cheap scotch to sink the Ark Royal. Somehow, he is the longest ever surviving Male Pooflake in history. I imagine his insides must be like ‘The Thing’ from Fantastic 4. His coughing fits are the stuff of legend though – when he starts hacking you know you’re good for about 5 minutes of constant spluttercack and rattling, ear shattering snorts etc as he attempts to dislodge his lungs again.

When it came to actually being an adult and trying a spliff I was in more fear of the smoking than the draw. It put me off the whole experience…so it’s been hashcakes all the way with me!

I don’t even like to touch cigarettes or hold them for people – even in a packet! I don’t like songs with smoking references in them – For fuck’s sake I don’t even like typing the word! This whole QOTW makes me shudder. I know it’s completely irrational so that's why I compare it to an OCD…a phobia...and as phobias go I suppose it’s not too bad a one to have…and with the exception of this post I normally keep pretty quiet about it.

So no, I’ve never had a cigarette. I don’t mind people who smoke but it doesn’t stop me feeling a bit smug when I get the constant stream of ‘Oh I wish I had never started’ speeches that I get from friends etc., as I watch them suffer physically and financially because of smoking.

Besides, I have plenty of my own vices so I’ll never be hypocritical enough to preach at anybody else’s.


Apologies for length...but this has actually been quite therapeutic for me. Thanks if you made it this far without a fag-break!
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:28, 9 replies)

My first cigarette
I was 16 at the time, sat in the Harbour Cafe waiting for the 5pm bus after working late at school. Of course, the only reason I stayed at school later than was absolutely necessary was because of the then GF did that day.

So, there we were sat in the cafe with hot chocolates and sausage rolls when she pulls out a packet of regal king size and asks if I want one. I'd never smoked before then, used to be dead against it. She found it funny when I couldn't light it before being told you had to inhale. How was I meant to know that? Most things I'd set light to up til then had gone on fire just by putting fire to fuel.

It wasn't bad. Wasn't good either. FOr the next two years I only smoked one or two at the weekends when I was round hers (at most 4 on a night out) and only started smoking properly at uni for something to do. Was up to 20 a day at one point. I've tried to stop a couple of times. Managed for six months once. THen had a bad break up and started again and now I don't want to quit. Though I have cut down to about 8 - 12 a day (4 - 6 on weekends for some reason).

As a side note, the bad break up was with the girl I'm with now. Happily back together 3 years now (minus 6 months broken up) and she's just the most amazing woman. THough with her smoking too, its doubtful I'd give up while she still does.
(Teran Thinks Pogonophobia is funny, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:27, Reply)

A basic question
What does smoking do for you ? Does it release stress, or does it relieve the addictive need for nicotine - "get the monkey off your back".

You see, I think it's the latter. I think that fags are basically the worst, as in least effective, drugs ever.

Ignore the fact that they are likely to kill you, the smell etc etc.

Just what are they doing effects-wise ? With every other drug I've taken, I know what it does for me. With fags, it's just been a small head-rush from the first of the day, and that's it.

The rest of the time one has the compulsion to light up as a constant, almost. By the time I stopped, I was almost wanting a fag whilst one was still in my mouth.

Smoke joint after joint and you'll be on the floor. Drink pint after pint, ditto. Even coke has a slightly cumulative effect. Nicotine though - you can smoke 40 in a night and still be upright. Lungs fucked the next day though, but that's not the point.

Just what *are* the effects ?
( I_Was_Mordred, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:27, 5 replies)

Never ever ever
I've never smoked anything in my life (not even kippers), for the simple reason that my Dad smoked like a chimney and it stank! You couldn't avoid it, the house, the car, clothes, hair, all saturated with the manky stale smoke smell.

As if that wasn't enough to put me off, he had two heart attacks (didn't tell us about the first one though, the stubborn git). I'll never forget the sight of my pa, grumpily sat in a hospital gown, hooked up to machines, his arms crossed and scowling at any nurse who came over to him.

For the first time in my life (I was 16 at the time), he looked old and vulnerable. It scared the shit out of me.

He was released from hospital soon enough, but he went from being a jolly big kid to a miserable git. I imagine he felt embarrassed and angry with himself. Two months or so passed before my sister and I noticed that he hadn't touched a cigarette since his hospital visit. It wasn't long before the short-tempered bastard side of him subsided, and his embarrassing jokes and Sid James laugh returned. He also completely changed his diet (my mum did as well), and ten years on they are much healthier and happier.

Sometimes, when i'm visiting the folks and my da' and I are chatting about stuff, I look at him and tell him how proud I am of him. He was able to go from 20+ a day to zero, without Nicorette patches or gum, purely by the strength of his will alone. I tell him that seeing him in that hospital bed was the scariest, most heart-breaking thing I have ever seen, and that seeing him now, slimmer, tanned and full of life, proves to me that he is a greater man than I'll ever be.

He usually then punches me gently in my arm and tells me to stop being soft. Bless him.
( Labia Majora You keep on talking but it makes no sense at all, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:24, 2 replies)

Smug bastard
I smoked fags for 19 years and then gave up. 2 years and counting now since me last oily.

I'm surprised any of my smoking mates still talk to me, the amount I've gone about their 'disgusting' habit
(ginger ninja, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:21, Reply)

When I was 20 or so, anti smoking laws came in;
one of the specifics was that smoking wouldn't be alllowed in banks.
My God! The anger in the pub that night.
Fast forward to last year's ban, I'd like to see what our 20 year ago selves would have made out of the not smoking, well, anywhere, legislation, bar the street and our private houses.
Oh prisons and royal palaces are exempt, but I'd rather not visit either.
Fucking nanny state.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:15, 5 replies)

I remember...
Coming back from a party when I was about 14 and excitedly telling my brother how me and my friends had shared a cigarette. We passed it around like it was a joint, we thought we were so cool! My brother held back the laughs until about a year ago when he told me how much he laughed at me as soon as I had left the room.
(The Kwyjibo A big, dumb, balding North American ape., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 12:15, Reply)

ahhh the innocent of youth
we'd all been smoking for a few years. We were the lads, smoking was the done thing. One day we ran out of cigs and money (actually as we were about 15, running out of money was a frequent occurence).
I can't recall how the idea started but we tried to smoke tea, grass (garden grass), banana skins, sugar etc but alas, this wasn't doing it. It was then that we noticed the chemistry set in the corner. So I can now tell you the following information. Smoking copper sulphate is not a lot of fun. I can't recall the other chemicals we attempted to smoke but I recall the copper sulphate. Truly not pleasant.

It's a pity this question wasn't about the first time you tried to get legally high because I have a cracking story which involves eating tubs of nutmeg and vomiting into a 3 litre bottle of 7Up.

Anyway....
( sneep used to date Freddie Starr's hamster, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 11:52, Reply)

As I am telepathic I posted this in Top Tips last week...
Even if you are desperate

Never smoke a bong full of cheese, trust me.

Oh and if you do, remeber that a large Carlesberg china ash tray from the pub is not only far to small to catch the resulting spew, but will actually act like a parabolic amplifier spreading chunder all over you and the room.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 11:46, 2 replies)

My first fag resulted from a challenge
Despite having been drinking heavily for a couple of years, I had resisted fags until I was 16. One pissed night a mate basically challenged me by saying "you won't be able to smoke because you've got asthma".

I could and I did, and what's more I thoroughly enjoyed it, even that very first one, and took it up hardcore from there.

My asthma got better from then.
( Wasp Box like a nervous random stranger at a glory hole, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 11:44, Reply)