The day has finally come. The writing is on the wall. Yup, that's right; I'm trying to ditch my utterly revolting, terribly unfashionable and social pariah-inducing love of cigarettes.
People who don't smoke don't really get it. "Just give up," they say. (Just give up?? That's a bit like telling a small child never to eat sweets again. Or for Posh Spice to go easy on the pouting.)
Then, even though they've never inhaled a smidgen of nicotine in their smug little lives, they feel it appropriate to lecture me at length on the many different and apparently miraculous ways by which their Uncle Ted gave up his 60-a-day B&H habit, like eating mung beans harvested by virgins during a full moon or some other utter tosh.
So annoying it actually makes me want to smoke.
People who don't smoke don't really get it. "Just give up," they say. (Just give up?? That's a bit like telling a small child never to eat sweets again. Or for Posh Spice to go easy on the pouting.)
Then, even though they've never inhaled a smidgen of nicotine in their smug little lives, they feel it appropriate to lecture me at length on the many different and apparently miraculous ways by which their Uncle Ted gave up his 60-a-day B&H habit, like eating mung beans harvested by virgins during a full moon or some other utter tosh.
So annoying it actually makes me want to smoke.
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