Stop smoking, big mistake

I have also discovered a disturbing side effect of not smoking. With ostensible interest I am beginning to converse with people that I would not normally engage. I recall an earlier conversation with ‘warning light’ Mike about the pros and cons of the Citroen AX and later in the evening I found myself chatting endlessly to Katie about her pregnancy, in particular how she felt about the baby’ journeying’ through her body, an ‘arty’ discussion with Adele about how Picasso represented ‘Guernica’  in bleak monochrome tones because he wanted to replicate the newsreel as well as the newspaper images of the time: I wonder if modern warfare is now echoed using bright, lurid colours to conform to high definition TV. Even, on leaving the Oak I found myself explaining my revolutionary ‘brainwashing technique’ to that ‘southern’ bloke who always stands at the other end of the bar minding his own business. His face remained completely blank as I attempted to market my flash cards as the undiscovered solution to the western world’s problem with the dreaded weed. This must stop, I shall return to smoking, becoming, once more, unsociable, rude and morose.

I did manage to return home with at least one endearing image. Lowtie had noticed that, in profile and with his recent hair style, Chris had a striking resemblance to that of Adolf Hitler. The rest of the group further convinced the eager but innocent victim to plaster his hair down, at the same time encouraging Emma to add the ‘makeup’ by pencilling in the fuhrer’s unique moustache using a black marker pen. Lowtie then produced, from nowhere, a German officer’s cap which completed the remarkable transformation. Having been previously over served with ten pints of Stella but eager to ‘run with’ the gag Chris goose-stepped up and down the vault, his right arm raised, chanting “sieg heil” to the entire pub. Exhausted, red faced but, also, flush with success he flopped into the nearest chair as the applause died down. Harry the rat had been summoned earlier to transport him back to Standish so Chris removed the cap but the ‘tash’ stayed put. Emma had used a chunky indelible ink marker that was also waterproof, spirit proof and bombproof. “What the frig am I going to do now?” To which Lowtie replied “You always wanted to rule the country, here’s your chance, when in Rome do as the Romans do, but when in Turkey, gobble. Anyway, they say that only gays and Wiganers sport a ‘tash’, these days, so who do want to be, ‘a fascist dictator’ or Larry Grayson. From where I am standing I know where I would place my bet”.  We all know that Lowtie expresses himself differently than a normal person but, nevertheless, we can recognise the basis of what he wants to say; even though it usually is born out of a strange twisted premise, it often contains uncanny wisdom. But not always: time for bed.