Friday, 11 October 2013

The Big Sleep and The Big Smoke
by James Leavey

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, with the sun shining through the windows of Grafton Street's bars.

I was wearing my weathered dark blue suit, with a dark blue shirt, tie, black brogues, and a pair of light brown socks embroidered with 'Piss off! I'm smoking an Havana'.

If it wasn't for the socks and the aroma from my Hoyo de Monterrey Epicure No.2, Dublin's anti-smoking twiddly-twats would have barely noticed.

But their wrinkled noses indicated they had registered my passing en route to The DCE. 

At ground level a light went on in the tiny brains of their anally-retentive cronies.  They were crawling through the gutters looking for discarded cigarette and cigar butts to be used as evidence of just how thoughtless their betters (i.e. considerate, unassuming, law-abiding cigar smokers like me) are.

Not that I gave a flying fuck.  I was everything the well-dressed professional cigar smoker ought to be.  I was calling on Mr Guy Hancock and almost a million Euros worth of prime Cuban tobacco, smokers' accessories and fine booze.

On the way downtown I had stopped for some light refreshment at several bars, i.e. just the pints of Guinness without my usual The Wild Geese Irish whiskey chasers. Thought I'd leave the best for the last.

Just before I entered The DCE's cigar aficionado's haven, an under-brained, over-opinionated, poncy, anti-smoking prick grabbed my arm and grunted, 'Those stinky things will kill you almost as quick as they murder passive smokers like me.'

I removed his grasping claw, grabbed his throat and growled, 'If you're a passive smoker why don't you shut up and be passive.  Even better, fuck off and leave me alone before I burn a hole into your thick puritanical skull and let a little air and sense into it.'

Then I let the spluttering bastard go and took a long puff of the excellent Havana I was enjoying, until Mr Twiddly-Twat rudely interrupted me, and exhaled, 'As for the passive smoking, dummy, there has never been any hard scientific evidence that exhaled tobacco smoke causes cancer.  But that hasn't stopped the born-again puritans and grasping insurance companies and politicians of the world giving smokers a hard time.

'Now open your big furry ears and listen carefully:

'We will all end up sleeping the Big Sleep, except in my case there'll be a huge smile on my face for having lived a long life to the full.  Sad feckers like you will be lying there wishing they'd done the same before it was too late.

'And if you ever lay your slimy hands on me again you will be sleeping permanently, sooner rather than later.'


  1. I am going to use you as a role model the next time I am harassed by a fanatical, busybody antismoker. Thanks from a reader in San Francisco.

  2. If Shakespeare could blog, this is the kind of stuff he'd be writing.