Giving up fags is easy. But of course, you may turn into a homicidal maniac

Last updated at 01:10 19 May 2007

The Non-Domestic Goddess Club of Great Britain,

which realises that it is only a matter of time

before there is nowhere to smoke at all, apart

from, perhaps, a very small cupboard in Peru, has this to say about the forthcoming smoking ban:

"Listen, we all have to die of something, you know.

"It’s not like you’re going to cheat immortality.

"We hate to burst your bubble, but non-smokers die every single day."

Sometimes, it is hard for The Non-Domestic Goddess Club of Great

Britain to get into the spirit of things.

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Deborah Ross

The Club would like to apologise

for this, and would like to add: "We are absolutely all in favour of the

new powers which will effectively criminalise smoking, as smokers are

weak and dirty and disgusting as well

as, most unforgivably, quite the most

interesting and fun people in the

room (or what used to be the room but

is now outside on the pavement in all

weathers. Non-smokers craving fresh

air might do well to stay inside.)"

Our own great President (Ms D.

Ross, still very much related; you bet!)

has attempted to give up smoking on

many occasions, and sometimes for

nearly as long as ten minutes.

She says: "Actually, it’s not as hard as

all that, so long as you don’t count the

queasy feelings about the rest of your

life stretching out before you in an

utterly meaningless and empty way.

"What is even the point of going to

the cinema, if not to light up the

moment you step out?

"What is the

point of going anywhere, if it’s not to

have a smoke as soon as you arrive at

your destination? Smoking may be

killing you but, boy, does it make you

feel as if you’re alive."

Our President (who is so

popular, the French even

named a butter after her)

says the queasy

emptiness may be

accompanied by something called "irritability",

which isn’t too much to worry about,

even though it’s more a constant,

murderous rage.

Plants, for example, will have to be

scolded for photosynthesising too

loudly — "can’t you be quiet; what do

I have to do to get some peace round

here?" — while small children will

have to be sent to their rooms for

being small children, which is

inexcusable in this day and age.

But, that said, little else makes Ms

D. Ross cross when she is trying to

give up. Apart from:

• The cat who sits on the newspaper

while you are trying to read it.

• Being told "Sir Alan is ready to see

you now’ even though it’s a lie; he’s

always the last into the boardroom."

• Packaging you have to open with

your teeth; grr, grr!

• Pedestrians on zebra crossings

who mouth "thank you". (Don’t thank

me, I’m only stopping because it’s

the law, love.)

• Children calling ‘Mum, MUM!’ from

the top floor. (Come down if you want

to speak to me; can’t you see I’m

trying to give up smoking here?)

• Pedestrians on zebra crossings

who DON’T mouth "thank you".

(This means you now have to wind

down the car window and shout

"Don’t mention it, mate!" as

sarcastically as possible.)

• All the male experts on the

Antiques Roadshow who look as if

they’ve styled their hair over a

cushion, the big Jessies.

• Family members who can burp the

Westminster Chimes and wear it as a

badge of honour.

• Power-chewing Nicorette gum

until you are nauseous and your jaw

throbs (guilty).

• Pizza leaflets and mini-cab cards

through the letter-box.

• Instruction manuals that only

make sense in the original Korean:

"Now you have shortly brassnose,

stop." Er, OK.

• The "Quick Ticket" ticket machines

at train stations that won’t take your

note no matter how you angle the

Queen’s head.

• Pets who are only nice to you

when they want feeding; where is

their shame?

• The Rausing family who have

made zillions from Tetra Pak

cartons — which don’t work.

• The cat who hangs on when you

try to shake it from the newspaper,

and so shreds it to bits. Be gone!

• Supermarket packers who put

the potatoes on top of the eggs;

now, that is clever.

• Staff in JJB Sports who have

been trained to answer "dunno" to

everything; why are these football

boots more expensive than those?


Is it worth paying the

extra? "Dunno"; Do you have a

pulse? "Dunno." How about I stab

you through the heart to find out?

Would that be OK? "Dunno, I’ll ask

the manager."

• Anyone who says they are going

to give something 110 per cent.

(Hate to rain on your parade, but

100 per cent is the max, the top

whack, the full enchilada.)

• The sniffer sitting next to you on

the Tube (Jesus Christ, just blow

your nose!).

• TV programmes that preview so

much of what is coming after the

commercial break and then so

much of what happened before

the break that there is effectively

no programme left.

• Parkinson’s interview style: "My,

don’t you look lovely, and so

bright and talented, too!" That

man makes Hello! look like the

Spanish Inquisition.

• The nose-blower sitting next to

you on the Tube (Jesus Christ,

why can’t you just sniff?).

• The person ahead of you in

the queue at the supermarket

queue who looks surprised

when asked to pay and spends

for ever rummaging for purse

in handbag.

• The phone going and it’s a

so-called friend who is a smoker

and proceeds to inhale and exhale

with obscene gusto (you know

who you are).

• The cost of replacing phones

once you have pulled them from

the wall and tried to smoke them

(see above).

• The partner who says it is easy

to give up smoking — "I did it" —

even though he’s only ever smoked

half a Silk Cut at a party in 1977.

• The Nicorette gum instruction

leaflet suggesting you take up a

new hobby; will homicide do?

GIVING up smoking? As Ms D.

Ross says: "You’ll hate basically

anyone and everyone wherever

they are and whatever they

are doing and will wish they

are dead, just as you will wish

you are dead. But aside from that,

it’s a doddle."

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