Smokers: suffer in your jocks

I've generally felt quite bad for smokers. Exiled to a pitiful little chamber at the back of restaurants, or forced outside in the cold or heat, they seemed like a miserably oppressed minority, tormented for their addiction and kept away from decent society like so many lepers. I hated seeing them suffer. What had they done to the rest of us, really, that deserved such a cruel punishment?

Having now spent a couple of weeks in lands where there are no smoking restrictions, and being reminded of what life used to be like in Australia, I have no sympathy for the selfish bastards whatsoever. Without being restrained by the heavy hand of the law, left to their own devices, they inflict their foul pollution on others, and force the rest of us to choose between cancer or exile. There's no apology, there's no effort to keep the smoke to a minimum or try to aim it so it doesn't go straight in other people's faces; they simply choose not to give a damn. You don't like my repulsive, deadly fumes? Well stiff cheddar, old cheese. They enjoy not giving a stuff about the people around them, being kings of their own little worlds.

Well, they used to. Australian smokers don't get away with it any more. And Greek smokers have another year of getting away with this before they're going to find out just what it is like for their victims. The general consensus here is that there will be much unhappiness from amongst their ranks.

I find it difficult to feel too sorry for them.

PS The above was written whilst in Greece. Now we're in France it appears that, in the words of Our Nicole in Moulin Rouge, "the French are glad to die, for cigarettes..." as well. Mais le cancerous wracking cough n'est pas sexy, mes amis.