For those of you who don’t know, the British government introduced a legislation whereby smoking is prohibited within an enclosed public space. Failure to comply with the new law will result in self-righteous remarks, reproving stares and the risk of a fifty pound ($100) fine. So basically a British smoker is one-step below a paedophile and one-step above a traffic warden (parking attendant). I believe that is quite unfair as traffic wardens are far worse than smokers (paedophilic traffic wardens are the scourge of society) , but that issue can be addressed on another day.
The new legislation bans smokers from smoking in train stations, offices, shopping malls, sport stadiums, restaurants and unsurprisingly pubs/bars. The first five smoke no-go areas are perfectly fine. The smell of smoke will ruin clothes, the taste of food, your view at the game and so on. But the pub is a whole different ball game.
Smoke belongs in a pub. Christ, a smokey pub has gone from a mild inconvenience for my washing machine to deal with to my best friend. I need it to follow me into any pub I have visited since July 1st. Pubs reek. Stink. Smell. Whatever. On my first visit to a pub/bar after "smokers are criminals day" I noticed something. No it wasn’t the gyrating torso of the village idiot (see home sweet home) nor was the local bicycle searching for 20 pence so that she could call her mum and remind that tonight is "shagging-night" and she won’t be home. No, it was the overwhelming smell. Sulphur dioxide to be precise, or fart smell to the layman amongst us.
In the good old days my mate "smoke" would appear and banish the dreaded fart smell away, but not anymore. Now the fart smell follows me into every bar creating a stink. Sometimes he’s even waiting inside for me (though he never buys me a beer). The one time i managed to lose fart smell two new smells came in his place! Messers old cabbage smell and stale piss had replaced him, and like a spineless gonad I wanted fart-smell back. I craved fart smell over a combination of stale piss and old cabbage and alas he eventually returned. I might make friends with Mr cigar or his lovely partner Miss Cigarette so that I can kill my sense of smell and hopefully any unpleasant odours that eminate from the local pub or bar.