If you're a cigar
smoker and desperate for a communal public drink in Dublin, look for a bar,
hotel, café, or restaurant with a partly covered outdoor smoking area. Or one with a deep doorway, in which you can
crouch and gargle while you smoke in the rain.
God help us and
save us, doesn't that sound
dreadful! I wouldn't put my cats out in
the wet and dismal weather Ireland's smokers are bullied to light up in.
Thankfully, even
Ireland gets its share of sun. But
still...
Fortunately,
there's a third and better way.
Nip into the
Decent Cigar Emporium, flash your credentials (cigar/s and/or empty cigar case,
cutter, lighter/matches).
And be prepared
to step up for the ritual and password in which you prove you are a dedicated
nicotine companion:
'Hands on
humidor, hands on heart, I prefer the smell of a fine cigar to a twat
non-smoker's fart.'
All being well
and ship-shape the boys will welcome you with open ashtrays. And pass on The Knowledge of where to smoke
in Dublin without being rudely interrupted by ignorant eejits.
So there you are,
happy as Larry (they named a brand of cigarettes after him – Olivier) and
dropping ash with friends. When your cigar has reached the end of its warm and
wonderful life you may be considering which one to try next.
Yes, I know you
already have your favourites.
The thing is,
which cigars have ripened for your immediate delectation, and which are better
for investing and storing and ageing?
For fine,
hand-rolled tubes of premium tobacco are rather like the finest wines, which
improve with age and are best sipped at the height of their power.
Just don't ask me
for detailed advice, for I don't live with all the cigars available.
But the boys at
The DCE do, especially Mr Guy Hancock.
They have been taking very good care of their nicotine babies and can
give you all the know-how you need to lead you to a very pleasant smoke indeed.
There are also
other places you can fall back on, when the DCE is closed for the night:
Ireland's prisons (which are still smoker-friendly), lunatic asylums (whatever
the politically-correct anal retentives call them, these days), monasteries (is
that really incense they're waving in the censer?) and hotel rooms designated
for smokers.
The first option
requires getting arrested. This is very
easy, just try lighting up inside a health shop.
The second
requires proof of madness, such as deciding after all those years to give up
smoking.
The third is
really down to an act of faith.
And the fourth is
sometimes hard to come by but well worth pursuing. For, like the other three options I
suggested, the law allows you to smoke in your own home or its equivalent.
And in the
privacy of your hotel room or suite you can throw a part, orgy or hoolie for
your cigar companions. Just as long as you open the window and don't set fire
to the bed.
