Dreadful Nonsense

Myself and Mrs Bishop ventured out last night for the first time since the smoking ban was implemented last Monday. And what an adventure it was!

We went to our usual drinking hole, where the comedy is held upstairs, and quickly turned on our heels and left, as there was a game of football being played between two teams of men representing their countries of origin, and therefore there were not seats available for us to plonk our delicate behinds. We instead went round the corner to a pub we used to go to while teenagers and in our early twenties, O'Neills. And that was a sight to behold.

Walking in to the pub, you are immediately thrown by the fact that the air you have been breathing outside has continued to be palatable inside the pub. What is more, you can see the other end of the bar, and your eyes don't instantly start to water and itch. Furthermore, the length of time you stay in there is not directly linked to an increasing ache in the area of your lungs, and you don't end up on the floor coughing your guts up and gasping for dear, clean oxygen while slowly slipping in to unconsciousness.

What I'm saying is, there was a noticeable lack of tobacco smoke.

This astonishing turnaround continued on into the comedy club, whose queue we managed to join just as the doors were opening and therefore once again we managed to slip inside and get good seats without the tiresome trouble of taking our turn in the waiting. The club upstairs tends to become one of the most unpleasant places in the world after about 40 minutes, when the build up of smoking produces a rather large fug across the proceedings. To be honest, it used to bother me even when I was still smoking.

But last night! When the time for the interval was announced, approximately half the audience leapt to their feet and jogged down the stairs to stand huddled in the doorway of the pub (it was lashing rain outside) and light up. It was like being back in school again, when everyone used to dash to the end of the field for their nicotine fix while all the teachers pretended they couldn't see them.

What would attract me back to this kind of social smoking is the camaraderie you do feel with everyone else who has been forced outside to partake in the toking of the evil weed. I love the sideways glances that people give to each other, the apologetic shrugs and grins that turn into full blown conversations about the last six times you have tried to stop smoking, the conversations about how rubbish the Alan Carr book really is, and the fact that, after this packet, you're really going to put the effort into not smoking altogether. And then we all wheezed our way back up the stairs.

I do need to point out at this juncture that I was merely accompanying Mrs Bishop outside for the cigarette. I myself did not smoke a jot while we were at the comedy club. This is because I am great, and not a weak willed fool like Mrs Bishop.

It really does make a lovely difference to the whole proceedings though. We wandered off to another pub after the comedy club finished, and as we approached our destination we were struck by the amount of people standing around outside the door. It looked like a large queue had formed around the door and although the pub is a nice pub, it's not so nice that you'd happily stand about in the rain to get in to it. But, of course, you've already worked out that all those fools were standing outside so that they could get their fix of the evil coffin nails we call cigarettes.

So having been in three pubs, you'd expect to come home stinking and coughing, but instead we ended the proceedings on a high note, going home with a cab driver who was 15 years off the fags and loving every moment of lecturing people about how easy it is to give up smoking once you actually put your heart into it.

I'm actually really against this smoking ban on principle. We're the first country in the world to declare that its people are not allowed to smoke virtually anywhere outside the confines of your own home, and it's a very brave and many think fool-hardy decision to make. I don't like being told what I can or can't do and where I can or can't do it, and I hate the idea that Ireland is becoming such a restrictive nanny state. But then again, I woke up this morning looking and feeling floral and nice and shiny and unsoiled by the evil tobacco giants and their tiny wheezing stooges, and I'm quite pleased about the whole thing.

It's difficult being this conflicted, I can tell you.

This entry was posted on 01 April 2004 at 9:24 pm. 0 comments

Dreadful Nonsense

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