“It’s about time you stopped bloody smoking,” the wife said,
“If you carry on a nicotine slave you’re going to end up dead.”
Even my daughter gets in on the act,
Asking, “is it true Daddy that your lungs are completely black?”
Trying to quit is something I’ve dreaded,
You see I’ve been smoking since I was young, on benches and under hedges.
And I’ve tried before, but only half-heartedly, to quit.
But just like my tries at dieting, I find it very hard to commit.
Mind you it’s not just smoking that can kill you these days,
Even life’s little pleasures can get you in a myriad ways.
You could go out for a quiet walk and find yourself run over,
You could go out for a quiet drive and plummet off a flyover.
Enjoy a few pints, get cirrhosis of the liver,
Feed the ducks, fall and drown in the river.
Sit out on a sunny day, cancerous melanoma,
Sit out on a starry night, surprise, pneumonia.
Life is just stuffed with bitter irony,
I mean look how some famous people died.
Killed doing what they thought safe or by their own inventions,
Marie Curie was poisoned by her own radiation.
Sid James dropped down dead while on stage,
Trotsky was murdered for what he put on the printed page.
James Hesselden segway guru, drove one off a cliff,
Jim Fixx invented jogging, had a heart attack while doing it.
Did you know you can even die straining for a shit?
So I think I’ll carry on smoking for a bit.