It needn’t be hell..
But it is.
I promise not to turn into one of Bill Hicks’ black hearted, anti-smoking nazis and I know that non-smokers die every day, but I’m quitting. I’ve listened to my body and it’s screaming at me. My chest hurt so badly this morning that I thought one of my lungs had been stolen in the night. I guess it’s just 20+ a day for 20+ years.
Consulted my old friend and drinking buddy Dr Septic Nib who advised speaking to a pharmacist. A good chance to share my misery thought I, so popped into Tesco on the way home and spoke to a very sweet young lady about the various patches and potions that I hope will assist me in this Herculean task. Settled on Nicorette gum, a bargain at £3.95 for 15 high strength nicotine substitutes. Very reasonable. What are Bensons, £4.60 a pack? I remember saying I’d quit when they passed £1.50.
They’re supposed to be mint flavour. Ha. I can only assume that the chemist who developed the flavouring (and it could only have been chemically created) has never actually tasted mint. Rather, the taste has been described to him or her by a sadistically backward 5 year old with a less that comprehensive grasp of even basic English. That or a vocabulary so far beyond mine that I am in awe, for I’m utterly at a loss to describe what they taste like. Horrible is the first inadequate word that springs to mind. But it does get rid of those nasty “I want to kill everybody” cravings so it’s a small price. I suppose.
I could have murdered all South West Trains employees earlier. Have been in the city today, but got an early finish so headed for home at a decent time. The train rocked merrily to Datchet, the stop before mine and then didn’t budge. Eventually there was a tannoy announcement – “We apologise for the delay, but there is a swan on the line. Swans are protected species so we are not allowed to run them over, but a regional manager is on his way.” A regional manager? Surely all you have to do is shout a bit and wave your arms around? Does it really take a manager to shoo a swan off a track. I’d have scared the ‘king thing away with a dirty look after a few minutes.
B@st@rds.
I promise not to turn into one of Bill Hicks’ black hearted, anti-smoking nazis and I know that non-smokers die every day, but I’m quitting. I’ve listened to my body and it’s screaming at me. My chest hurt so badly this morning that I thought one of my lungs had been stolen in the night. I guess it’s just 20+ a day for 20+ years.
Consulted my old friend and drinking buddy Dr Septic Nib who advised speaking to a pharmacist. A good chance to share my misery thought I, so popped into Tesco on the way home and spoke to a very sweet young lady about the various patches and potions that I hope will assist me in this Herculean task. Settled on Nicorette gum, a bargain at £3.95 for 15 high strength nicotine substitutes. Very reasonable. What are Bensons, £4.60 a pack? I remember saying I’d quit when they passed £1.50.
They’re supposed to be mint flavour. Ha. I can only assume that the chemist who developed the flavouring (and it could only have been chemically created) has never actually tasted mint. Rather, the taste has been described to him or her by a sadistically backward 5 year old with a less that comprehensive grasp of even basic English. That or a vocabulary so far beyond mine that I am in awe, for I’m utterly at a loss to describe what they taste like. Horrible is the first inadequate word that springs to mind. But it does get rid of those nasty “I want to kill everybody” cravings so it’s a small price. I suppose.
I could have murdered all South West Trains employees earlier. Have been in the city today, but got an early finish so headed for home at a decent time. The train rocked merrily to Datchet, the stop before mine and then didn’t budge. Eventually there was a tannoy announcement – “We apologise for the delay, but there is a swan on the line. Swans are protected species so we are not allowed to run them over, but a regional manager is on his way.” A regional manager? Surely all you have to do is shout a bit and wave your arms around? Does it really take a manager to shoo a swan off a track. I’d have scared the ‘king thing away with a dirty look after a few minutes.
B@st@rds.
posted by phylos @ 18:13
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