Thought I was clever didn't I?
I used to chew Hamlet cigars, thinking I was Mr Big Man.

What a turd-button I was at eighteen years old.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 22:52, 1 reply)

The beer made me do it
First night at university back in 1985. Inexperienced in the ways of the world and starting blagging Marlboro reds of a Mancunian.Unlike everyone else here didn't cough and gag, just got addicted. Started me on a habit that lasted till last year. It wasn't the health scares that got me, well not exactly. I just got fed up of being broke and having colds that lasted longer than they should and generally feeling like shite. I'm now on the bloody nicotine gum. I know they say you can wean yourself off with that stuff, but its not as easy as smug non smokers seem to think. I've always said that the smoking wasn't the key, the ritual, the mood and all that, to why I smoked. Its nicotine addiction pure and simple.

What always got me though was doctors. For example had to see the quack (a locum) a few weeks ago. Had a quick look at my records then started on a rant about smoking. No suggestions about have I considered giving up, just a rant. Didn't even miss a beat when I told her I hadn't smoked for a year, until she finally listened. Thanks love. I'd suggest that as I'm half your weight, and twice your height I'm in better health than you.

I really do miss it mind. Just now and then
(Sir Tainley Barking Ezekiel 23:20, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 22:41, Reply)

It's totally shit. uncool and too expensive...
I used to nick my mums Players No.10s, the smallest fags in the world. I used to buy them for her at the local Spar when I was a kid, with a note from my mum to the cashier. I then experimanted with pyjama cord, which made me sick and fall off some scaffolding, I ended up in hospital with a gashed head! Moving onto No.6 singles at school, progressed to 20 B&H (king of fags in gold packet). Got into hash and was banned from my local for blatently tooting whilst waiting for the bus up town (shock/horror). Worked in USA while ciggies were still under a Dollar a pack! Came home to find they were nearly a fiver and packed 'em in there and then. Hate smokers now, inconsiderate wankers! It should be banned FULL STOP.
(minky, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 22:09, 1 reply)

which reminds me again
(i'd do anything rather than this work!!)

of the big chill this summer. my friend and i were lying in the grass, under the blisteringly hot sun, drinking icy cold champagne cocktails and generally chilling out after a torrid 90 minute session trying to erect the tent (it was my first time. and she'd forgotten half the bits. i'm surprised we're not on youtube, we had such an audience watching. we had to tie the fucking thing to other people's tents, like a small blue canvas parasite. turned out in the morning there should have been a "groundsheet" or something as well, as everything was sopping wet. and not in a good way. i'm so not cut out for this one with nature shit, bring on the five star hotels!).

anyway, there we were, nice music, nice booze, getting excited about the huge party later on that evening. then i saw him. the man of my dreams. selling huge hash flapjacks. no smoking required!! before my friend could say anything, i'd beckoned him over.

"how many will we need?"

"you smoke dope?"

"er, not really," i hedged. i never did get the point of it. i understand pepping yourself up. but slowing yourself down? why? but maybe hooning off flapjacks would be different. the guy recommended one. i bought two each. how strong could it be?

they tasted like shit. i've inhaled armpit stench on the underground that tasted better in my mouth. but after we'd forced them down, things were grand. we were giggling at nothing and everything was melting and taking heed of the bible and going forth and multiplying, our hands, the glasses of cocktail, the people...

then i looked at my watch(es). 7pm. shit, where had the last 2 hours gone? time to get ready for the big saturday night. we made our way back to the tent, and collapsed on the airbed to get changed and made up.

and woke up at EIGHT AM!!!!! slept right through the entire. fucking. festival. what a pair of tits. ( . )( . ) we felt fantastic though, really fresh and well-rested...

we're going again this year. there will be no herbs. consumed, smoked or otherwise! anyone else going??
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:48, 1 reply)

First smoke
Was of a reefer, for some reason (that was when I was 18 and didn't start proper smoking till I was 21 or summat, spaz that I be. I got stupidly stoned and passed out. when I awoke with a start I heard the most god awful banging and crashing and was quite disorientated.

the banging and crashing was the pictures, the dining table and chairs and every trinket from the malte piece falling. Why? Because my wonderful friends had tied me up to all of it. I broke a shitload of stuff, and it wasn't even my house.
(The_Greyhound wrote www.luckymcdanger.blog.co.uk on, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:46, Reply)

It's not cool and sadly, it won't impress your friends. Or your Mother...
I was a spectacularly uncool adolescent (who has morphed seamlessly into an equally uncool adult) and thus the whole “smoking’s cool – it will impress your friends and the boys will think you’re sexy” was pretty much aimed directly at me.

So I bought a single Benson and Hedges for 10p down the newsagents (showing my age a bit here), lit up and thus began a love affair which has lasted for 15 years, on and off. Well, if by love I mean that the object of my desire makes me throw up, get irritable, smell like crap and feel awful first thing in the morning, but so, so much better after a beer, then yes, a love affair it is. Actually, come to think of it….

Aged about 19, I was sat in the hairdressers, (in those unenlightened times where it was perfectly fine to spark up while having the latest perm / flock of seagulls sweep / quiff applied to one’s barnet) and I decided to have a smoke. I stuck my head down, lit up and sat back up to see myself in the mirror, taking a good drag on my cancer stick.

And my mother stood directly behind me.

My mother does not smoke. My mother’s father died of a smoking related heart attack aged 45. My mother is unaware of my filthy habit… Till now.

Her first words were “How long have you been smoking for?”

Like a total utter chippy fucking 19 year old, instead of either lying, crying or apologizing, I took another drag and responded…

“Not long, I’ve only just lit it.”

My mother turned on her heel and left and that day I learnt a) that my mother has a surprising temper for such an outwardly calm lady and b) that I’m a fuckwit.

Anyway, I’ve had a couple of attempts to quit, one lasted a good 18 months, I’m now a few months into another, spurred on by an aggressive resident at my local clinic who recited a litany of horror stories of pulmonary embolisms and necrotic lungs in women my age, that I was finally forced to sit up and take notice.

If I could go back, Bill and Ted style to the teenage Rakky and tell her two things they would be one, to never, ever start smoking in the first place and two, don’t piss your mother off.


And maybe a third thing. That haircut I was having? Don't. Just don't...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:45, Reply)

Valentino's
It was just after my GCSEs and a bunch of us had gone to Valentino's in Stoke as it was one of the places we could get in underage. A few of the people I was with were smoking and I got offered one, I think it was Melissa Roberts. I was torn. I had always been against smoking (my mum is a smoker and I used to hate her smoking) but i was intrigued too. I took a cigarette and have never looked back, until now.....

.....I am planning to quit smoking this weekend. I am going trekking in the Himalayas in October, and I want my lungs to be in better condition than they are now. This ties in nicely with the fact that my friend at work who I smoke with has finished work today to go and teach English in China.

So, I have a good reason to want to quit in my trip and the impetus to do it as i have no-one to smoke with.... wish me luck!
( JimmyD I let my best ideas go to waste, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:40, 1 reply)

which reminds me
of a time at a family dinner (not band camp) a few years ago. looking around at the 3 of us, my father said in mingled tones of scorn and disbelief:

"so am i to understand that i'm the only one who's never smoked this - marijuana?"

er, yes, dad. i think the 60s missed your part of yorkshire. in fact, it's still 1940 there.

"these people who take drugs," my father went on sagely, shaking his head. "they're all so sad. don't they know they just need to get down the gym?"

oh.

dear.

god.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:39, 1 reply)

cherchez l'homme
ok, now i'm working from home - instead of heading up the motorway, courtesy of the bastard scumsucking thieving gyppos that have moved into/trashed/raped for electricity, water, fixtures and fittings on my client's property to squat there, anyone got a gun and feel like some target practice?? - and not at work:

the only time i actually smoked cigarettes myself was at university. armyboy and i were on one of our frequent breaks and i really fancied the identical twin of my flatmate's boyfriend. he and some mates were coming round one night and he was a massive stoner. so although i've never been into it, i thought i'd better practice so i didn't look like a complete twat in front of the lovely chris.

it made me heave, it made me cough, it made me wheeze, it made the room spin, but by the end of the tenth fag i looked cool enough. by this time the boys had arrived, so my flatmate and i sashayed into the lounge.

however, they were already so stoned that chris wouldn't have noticed if i'd coughed a lung up into his lap. still, i persevered, lowered my neckline, raised my hemline, and after a while we were snuggled under my duvet on the sofa passing a joint back and forth. everything was blurry apart from the glittering gold of his hair and the brilliant blue of his eyes. and then his face was swimming nearer to mine.... and then.....

i woke up. cold. alone. my face stuck to the sofa with drool and a huge brown burnmark on the new duvet.

turns out i'd been literally mid sentence chatting chris up when i'd gently nosedived into his lap and passed clean out. they'd been completely and totally unable to wake me.

gah!! stupid weed. i never did get to pull chris...... mind you, i saw him in clapham a few months ago though. as the years have not been that kind to him, i think i can live with it!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:34, Reply)

First ciggy, eh?
'Twas a sixth form disco in the New Rendsburg club in Lancaster. Lots of frivolities happened that night including one of teachers nearly downing a pint of fresh piss. Crazy guys. Crazy days.

Anyway, I was 17 and this lass from my primary and secondary school offered me a ciggy. Alcohol was no probs by then and I was a master of cider consumption. Cigarettes though had passed me by up 'til this point and I was adamant that I'd never smoke during my lifetime.

Said lass passes me a lit ciggy. Do I let myself look a cock and say "no" in front of a few lasses including the donor who was quite alright? "GIZZ IT HERE!"

I inhaled the smoke of a 'More' (remember them?) and started coughing like an asthmatic pig in front of the corking bevvy of unplucked cherries. I swore, through much gasping for breath, that I'd never forgive her for letting me wheeze on that fecking thing.

I eventually got my own back on her though. I married her 23 years later. That got her told...
(Stereo Vaccine, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:32, Reply)

smokey puff puff
my first smoke was to impress some boy when i was 14.
i'm not entirely proud of that, but there's a certain way marlboro lights smoke tastes on balmy summer nights that takes me right back there....

i bloody love smoking.

the way that smoke tastes and hangs in the air on hot summer days is one of my favourite things

when i snuck out on to the roof of my parent's house to have a fag and watching the bats flitting in and out of the neighbours' trees the night before i left for uni.

the day not long ago that i bought a pack of marlboro lights and sat on my back door step chain-smoking, crying and listening to joni mitchell when i realised that i had to break up with my boyfriend of 3 years. (ok, well... that wasn't so fun.)

i would never have spoken to my best friend if we hadn't have both been smoking outside the art block.

oh, and being a bar wench, i would never get any breaks if i couldn't bugger off for a smoke and a natter with the Polish kitchen staff.

and there's nothing better in the world than the 5 minutes just before the bar i work in opens, when i'm standing out the front, wrapped up in a big jumper with a cigarette and a hot cup of tea clutched in 2 hands, watching people braving the frosty morning.

i even love the smoking ban (except when it's raining) because it gives you an excuse to leave situations or people you don't want to be sitting with, and you can go and just smoke and think. or flirt with other filthy smokers.

i'm not sure i would love it so much if my one remaining grandparent wasn't a man who smoked 60 a day for 50 years; and, due to TB after the war has smoked this bajillion fags with but one lung.

what a trooper.

but of course the number one reason i smoke is that i look so. fucking. cool.


i'll give up one day. when i give up being cool
(missmissy, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:30, Reply)

i have never smoked but have no problems with it except this;
im not such a big fan of the smoking ban. sure, im probably not inhaling secondhand smoke. instead, i have to put up with a couple of people whinging about needing a smoke, trying to make me sit in the outside area at 10pm in January and slowing me down from place to place as they are trying to fit in as many fags as they can.

im probably losing more time from my life waiting for these people to light up outside when its breezy than i would be if i sat in a room with them when they were smoking.
(ladyintheradiator, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:28, Reply)

I was about 6 years old
Watching my dad smoke and thinking how cool it looked.

"Dad, can I have a go?"

"No! Bugger off!"

"Oh, go on dad!"

"You really want a go? Go on then."

*smokes*

*runs from room and pukes*

I suppose he was trying to teach me a lesson.

He died of emphasema and bronchitis in '89 and I'm on 40 a day now.

Thanks dad!
( Slippery Jim Seeking a psychotic lady for fun & sex & crime., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:21, Reply)

Rancid Cigars
At my tender young age, I have hurriedly taken up, and subsequently stopped smoking, over the course of about a year (presumably to get such an inevitable and tedious part of life out of the way nice n' early.)I expect, at this current fast-forward speed to develop lung cancer sometime within the next month.

My first cigarette? I couldn't tell you. I can however tell you this: before I smoked cigarettes I smoked cigars. As in took the smoke back, forcefully and savouringly, like a crack addict who doesn't know when he'll next see his dealer (hey, we didn't know that inhaling cigar smoke gives you throat cancer.

We used to sit in Jacks house, aged 13 and 14 thinking we were pretty fucking cool smoking his dads cafe cremes. Oh it was fun, beautiful happy memories.

But fucking Cafe Cremes?
I don't know if any of you are familiar with these aberrations of nature, but they are possibly the most disgusting, gag-inducing ikkle-wikkle... sausagey phallus things ever to grace the presence of my lips.

Urrgh. Cafe fucking cremes. Is that name meant to make them appealing to me? "Cafe Creme". That translates as what, coffee cream. Fucking yum. A better name would have been "Shit Cigars"

CAFE CREMES.

Fucking hell.
(Tip-Top Tomcat but you can call me Tommo, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 21:14, 1 reply)

My dad, the odious cretin that he is,
smokes like a chimney. As does my mother.

However, one day he decided to quit. Bought the patches and everything. First thing monday morning he puts on the first patch.

That afternoon he had a heart attack. In hospital for a month. Annoyingly survived.

Who would've thought that quitting smoking could damage your heart?
( B.T., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 20:34, Reply)

All these cigarette stories...
...are making me ache for one, and it's just past lunch. Cruel trick, b3ta, making it impossible to read the QotW while pretending to be at work...
(BrainSurgerysFun, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 20:20, Reply)

well...
Not so much a cigarette but wen i was about 13 i used to steal my mums ends from the ashtray when she was out and smoke them in the back garden, thing is......she smoked puff, i had an interesting childhood....
(kristofski6992, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 20:16, Reply)

Driven To Distraction
So my brother goes to pick up his new company car and by new I mean so new that there's still plastic covers on all the seats and a grand total of 17 miles on the clock. No sooner has he started driving it home then he lights up a cigarette in celebration. When he's finished he presses the button to make the window go down, flicks the smouldering butt out and continues on his way. Or, as actually happened, he presses the button that would have made the window go down in his old car (but in this one puts down the passenger side window), flicks his cigarette without looking so it rebounds off the glass, flies into the back and sets fire to the plastic covering the seats.

Within ten minutes of picking up his brand new car he's screaching to a halt on the hard shoulder of a motorway with flames billowing from the back and screaming swearwords. It's at this moment he remembers the smoking ban made it illegal to smoke in company cars.

Apparently his manager couldn't stop laughing at him for long enough to even tell him off.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 20:16, Reply)

WH Smith, Aberdeen St Nicholas Centre, aged 15
T'was before a gig. Being the super-cool indie God that I was, a packet of fags would really set off my oversized-jeans-and-ill-fitting-Oxfam-suit-jacket look.

"Cigarettes, please" says I.

"What brand?" says boredom stricken sales girl.

Shit. What brand indeed?

"Those ones, the blue ones"

"Richmond?"

"Aye".

Yes! Soon a packet of the finest mass-produced nicotine cones would be mine.

"How many?" This girl asks a hell of a lot of questions for my liking.

"Five" says I, with absolutely hee-haw idea of how many cigarettes you get in a packet.

"They don't sell them in fives". The old woman behind me with her copy of Good Housekeeping is looking impatient.

"Umm, err. Smallest packet please".

Done! Surly now I can hand over my hard earned £2 whatever to her and I can go.

"Are you sure you're sixteen?"

"Aye"

"Ok".

Done. She was not impressed five minutes later when I realised i'd need something to light it. But such is life, and I merrily trotted off into the night to see the band that was on at the Lemon Tree. So I get to the gig, pay in the money, the usual.

"Beer please"

"What type?"

"Umm......"
(Sam_B, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 19:38, 2 replies)

I've never smoked myself... i would but i cant afford it : P
But i can recall someone elses first puff.. paticularly because it was vile now that i think about it.
Ben (i wont name his surname despite being an utter cunt now) and i (both aged about 14) were on our way back from school through a residential bit when he found a fag butt on the ground with a bit left, trodden on but still smouldering.
He offered it to me.
I declined.
I think i laughed as he choked and i still do now with the hope that he's contracted some sort of foul disease (hopefully aids) from his resultant foray into addictive substances.... or from the gob on that cigarette.

Length?....... [Cock joke]
(cantbearsed I cant be bothered to write a sig... wait, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 19:23, Reply)

Closest I've got is
granpa' having a smoke somewhere nearby.
I won though, I outlasted him.
(Linusmartensson, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 19:21, Reply)

10 No, I'm not interested.
20 Ok, I'll try one.
30 GOTO 20
( Dr Preference AjcuiVd289, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 19:19, 5 replies)

Not so smokin' hot...
I honestly can't remember my first cigarette- I know I must have been 14 and that I still haven't quit yet.

I feel as though my memory has failed me...



- Length? Average and skinny but immensely satisfying...
(Janitor Sinister, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 19:04, Reply)

Drunk - the best explanation for any idiotic behaviour
When drunk, and I mean drunk to the point of blindness, I usually can be persuaded into smoking a cigar. I am an absolute non-smoker otherwise, but on those special occasions like work xmas parties....
It was at one of said work parties that I tried my first cigar. I can only vaguely remember the next morning. The main thing I still remember very clearly is that I wanted to die. Literally. The headache. The unbelievable taste I was not able to get rid of even after the third round of brushing my teeth. I swore that would never ever happen again. Until approx. 12 months later...
( RedWine President of the S.C.U.M., Thu 20 Mar 2008, 18:53, Reply)

Fags
Oh, how I miss them.

I remember my first one at the age of 14. For about the first 6 months or so I don't think I took it down, I just did it to look cool. Then I became a full fledged smoker for the next 17 years.

I packed up a couple of days into this year, still get the occassional urge to light one up but I have managed to keep them at bay so far.
(Plumstix has been spying on you since, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 18:52, Reply)

Sibling pressure
My brother gave me a drag of his cigarette when I was 13. He was 15 and surrounded by his mates. I really wasn't up for it (my Mum smokes so I was well aware of the consequences) but I thought I might as well get it over with. I pulled a drag into my mouth and then let it right out again. 'No, you've got to inhale it!' says my brother. So I gave it another go this time doing my best to pretend to inhale knowing full well what would happen if I actually did. I then produced an oscar-winning coughing my guts up performance disappearing behind the bus shelter because I 'thought I was going to barf'. To this day he's still convinced by it.

Didn't touch another one til I was 21. Been off and on them ever since.
( Raindance Work is inversely proportional to post-count, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 18:38, Reply)

The smoking ban
For those of you in the know hull is the smokiest city in the UK. 40% of adults smoke (and judging by my own observations 90% of the kids).

After years of getting a well earned rep as a good place to get your head kicked in on a Friday night, the police finally said enough is enough. They got all the clubs in town to ban lit fags and drinks on their dance floors. It was astonishing, within six months violent crime in the city center had close to halved. Although still a rough northern town, Hull became bearable for all of eighteen months. Then the smoking ban hit. Now thongs of people starved for nicotine have been flooding drunkenly onto the pavements to smoke. as a result petty fights and noise complaints have turned areas back into a DMZ. few clubs now dare to serve anything in an actual glass container.

Now a little known economic principle states that the majority of your business will come from your minority of customers. the regulars that any pub needs to keep its tills full are more often than not smokers. The fact that now some boring fuckers can pop down to the pub for a half of shandy once a week without having to shower afterwards does not make up for disadvantaging your best customers (and having to keep patio heaters going non stop). the shot of this is all the quiet and pleasant locals are having to close. The only places to weather the storm are corporate chains and places that advertise a free funnel with every £1 wkd. This means that the only place you can get to drink are jam packed with chavs. So anyone over 30, hates loud RnB/being glassed is finding it harder to find a place for a quiet pint.

I love hull and I love pubs and both are being badly affected by the smoking ban. I want to scream at every polictican that complains as to why we cant have a "cafe culture". We cant have a cafe culture because we are British. we have our own pub culture, a rich and varied one where supposedly all sections of the community can come and converse as one. the goverment is going to destroy what we have left of this, in an attempt to solve the heath crisis it helped instigate by taxing alcohol to the extent that only high volume /low quality production was the only way for breweries and drinking establishments to make even a smidgen of a profit.

some people may not like a smoky pub but I think they would prefer it to no pub.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 18:21, 3 replies)

I doon't smooke da reefa!
Long ago, before PJM became the resting pulse obsessed gym-junkie he is today (forty nine bpm, as measured on Friday night), PJM put much effort into pursuing as hedonistic a lifestyle as finances and a self imposed embargo of mind altering chemical substances would allow.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, several summer holidays during my college years were spent in a pleasant boozy haze of bars, clubs and teenage parties habitually not getting much in the way of lady-action.

September 1993, some McJob colleagues of mine threw a farewell bash for those of us departing to universities anew. The venue of the farewell bash was a large suburban home of a private schoolgirl we knew, with parents who spoke with cultured, home county tones yet had obviously enjoyed the halcyon days of the late 1960s enough to let everyone be and seemed to tacitly approve of the potential tomfoolery as thirty five teenagers indulged new found vices. One by one we turned up, raggedly dressed in the self consciously fringe garb of the day with tee shirts bearing the names of obscure alternative rock bands in a what appeared to be a gauche contest of niche music one upmanship.

By eight o clock, I was happy drunk and was engaged in conversation with a young (but very legal) blonde lady who appeared to be enjoying my conversation if the amount of coquettish smiles and sideways facing arm touching was anything to go by. We laughed, joked, talked about our hopes for the future (the prediction that I would be running the country by the time of my 30th birthday did not come to pass, sadly. 30 was yeeeeeeears away). It was at that party I decided that writing was to play a big part in my life henceforth.

Although the steady and relentless sipping of beer had not yet taken its toll on my head, my bladder was signalling that the tub was full at this point, so I politley excused myself in the direction of the bathroom.

I returned twenty minutes later, having been engaged in conversation with several new arrivals on the way to find that someone had parked in my space. Said girl was hanging off the arm of an unkempt skater boi type, clad in a Levellers tee. Bah. Foiled again!

Such instances were hardly rare, I seemed to regularly make significant gains in the early stages of the campaign to be thwarted by unforseen and farcical circumstance before either phone numbers or spit were exchanged. However, this being a farewell do I can safely say I was a tad miffed at the fact that the powers of fate decreed that I'd fall flat on my face at the eleventh hour yet again.

Grumpily, I wandered out of the downstairs sitting room and headed for the garden via the cellar and reached for some meagre consolation. I retrieved a rather phat one from my shirt pocket, which had been carefully prerolled. I walked to the end of the garden, lay on my back on the top of a wall and alternated between sips of Castlemaine and puffs on the joint. I stared transfixed by the stars in the late summer sky, noting that the recent appearence of Orion was the harbinger of Autumn and metaphorically speaking, pointing toward pastures new, for a few weeks hence I'd be in a new town with new people propping up unfamiliar bars. Perhaps then fate would ordain a more satisfactory run of lady luck.

I must have lay there for some forty minutes, tracing the stars and puffing. Unfortunately the dark arts of smoking weed were a very new experience for me, a little smoke went a very long way so I became aware I was a tad disconnected with my surroundings when I felt myself having to stifle a giggle as my finger traced the outline of a large knob while playing celestial join-the-dots. Feeling slightly perceptually challenged, I clambered awkwardly down from the wall. I pushed my way through the shrubbery and made for the cellar to retrieve another yellow can of Castlemaine.

Whoa. What. The. Fuck...?

Six feet from my right side appeared to be a pale, vaugely familiar shape in the moonlight. In a moment of comedic double take, I stared intently at what appeared to be a pale blue lit arse hovering some inches above the ground and quivering slightly. Further concentration in the moonlight revealed that the arse was balanced atop a pair of dark blue denim clad legs and a Levellers tee.

The realisation of the identity of the lady-arse's owner came in a rush. My brain was slowed by the THC in my system. I blushed and scuttled away guiltily, with a dastardly plan formulating in my head.

I should be ashamed for what happened next. Instead of leaving the courting couple be, I snuck into the lounge, summoned as many partygoers as possible around me and we crept outside and erupted into spontaneous applause in the direction of the alfresco sex show.

Credit where it's due, they carried on without missing a beat.

The next morning, sober and up with the larks I'm helping the hostess's mother clear up the debris. I couldn't help but stifle a smirk as I scrape the battered broom across the buttock prints in the dusty concrete. The debris, dust and the remnants of my spliff ended up being swept into a dustpan, like the memories of the party.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:49, Reply)

It started off with an innocent puff in the park
you know the sort, everyone in the gang had to nick a fag off someone or they weren't allowed in then we all sat in the bushes puffing away not but not taking it back. From there, it escalated to sourcing fags from the butts left at the bus stop. I count this as one of the lowest points of my life to date, the estate I used to live on, getting fags off the floor was like asking for mouth aids.

I don't smoke anymore.
(gypsylover, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:34, Reply)

Ugh
My 1st was a Marlboro. Yes, a painful dogshitty tasting Marlboro kindly offered to me by someone I fancied. I was 11 or 12. He was about 17. I thought it would make him fancy me or something.. how innocent was I?

So yeah I had a drag & coughed like an old woman but I wasn't sick. YAY me.

It didn't put me off unfortunately. 16 years later & I now smoke 20 a day. Funnily enough the lad I tried to impress has given up *don't blame him after smoking them dogshit sticks*

Bah. My lungs are like shields of steel. Not.
(sneezymonkey, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 17:27, Reply)