The Pub Is My Womb



“Cigarettes are my food,” said Frank Zappa. And then he died of testicular cancer. Which came as no surprise to anyone who’d heard him wanking in recording studios for thirty years, but still. Anyone who names his kid Moon Unit is plainly asking for his balls to rot off. Because there is such a thing as karma. Welcome to the concept of universal payback.

I quit smoking when I was thirty. There then followed three years of medical holocaust. I had a cold for a year, I developed a terminal allergy to housedust, my mouthwas ravaged by some hideous infection that stopped me eating anything harder than soup, I collapsed and was kept chemically unconscious by pain medication for a mouth, my circulatory system tried to kill my brain… And this, understand, is from NOT smoking.

I cannot deny my genetics. I cannot fight that which was hard-wired into me by my father’s tea-coloured, nicotine-riddled seed. You go ahead and pretend that car fumes are magic stardust and the greatest threat to life on earth is cigarette smoke. But the ineluctable, medical truth of the matter is that if I do not smoke I will DIE.
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17 thoughts on “The Pub Is My Womb”

  1. I suppose, then, it’s a very good thing that the one US convention you’re attending this year is in North Carolina, where they hand cigs to you when you cross the border.

  2. I think its fair, Mario. You should feel lucky that the computer got that far. One time it got JUST far enough to say “post hoc ergo proctor hoc, which means ‘I crush you with my thighs'”. That was fun.

  3. Warren, I read recently in an interview about your allergy to housedust and I see you’ve mentioned it again here. What are your symptoms? For the past year, I’ve been trying every medication and treatment known to science for a sudden allergy I’ve developed that makes my eyeballs try to crawl out of their sockets, but only when I’m inside home or the workplace. Skin tests show I’m allergic to a million things, but I think it might be dust that is the serious problem. If you have something similar, have you found anything that works for even temporary relief? I’m at my wits end with mine.

  4. Hmmm. My friend Dave is a chronic smoker. Once, he cut his hand open will trying to open a bar of soap, and he started bleeding all over the floor. We said to him, “Dave, let’s go to the store and get some band-aids.” Instead, he put a paper towel on his hand and attached it with duct-tape. He said, “Hang on, I want a cigarette, first.”

    Once he tried to quit smoking. He developed asthma and had a stroke within three days. We concluded that tar is basically what’s holding his lungs together, now.

  5. I try to stop smoking several times a year, but the stress of my job makes every attempt a waste of time.
    I’m 31 now, been smoking since I was 15. I figure I have to stop by 40 if I want to be damage free in my old age.

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