Thursday, July 2, 2009

And so it begins...

Why did the chicken cross the road? Whos asking? Who cares?

The real answer I am looking for is to do with our cancer stick friends. Why does a smoker in a restaurant, light up in front of their friends, then oh-so-caring hold the blasted thing behind themselves, protecting their friends from the smoke, but promptly destroying what ever taste and aroma you were enjoying of your wine as you innocently sit behind them at the next table?

Quite frankly, all cigarettes should come with glue on the tips, so once you 'drag' it stays in your mouth, bothering you and only you, until such time as the cigarette is finished and the soggy stogie drops from your lips.

Or even worse, you stand around for an hour to get a table at Spiga D'ora, the one decent restaurant in Durban, only to be sat outside on the pavement, and then our "Smokie and their bandits' once again, excuse themselves from their table and come stand next to you and puff away?

Isn't their a 911 number for smoking law infringements? What joy to see blue lights scream up to your table as the Lung Patients get bundled into the back of the Banana Van, my mistake, police vehicle and are whisked away to general holding for as many cigarettes as they can barter from Bubba.

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