This is the first thing I have written in ages. It's a stream of consciousness exercise from Sally Holloway's excellent book "The Serious Guide To Joke Writing". It's not meant to be funny per se, just to get the old creative juices going.
What really gets on my goat, apart from the cute saddle I bought for her, are the people who say things like "Smoking is the only pleasure I get." My mother and father used to say that when challenged by us kids as to why, when it was so expensive and bad for their health as well as ours. That used to confound me because I would think "Really? in this fascinating and wonderful world that we live in, with each other and 3 children, sucking on a burning paper tube filled with chemically treated dried plant material, inhaling the noxious fumes deep into your already tar-covered lungs in the full knowledge of what that will do to them, all the while feeding your addiction to and craving for nicotine is seriously THE ONLY PLEASURE YOU GET ANYMORE?".I'm now the age my parents were when they used to come out with that sort of crap and I ponder what I get pleasure from - my wonderful partner who I have been with now for over 25 years and have grown up with and continue to grow older with, our beautiful and talented child, my friendships, cooking meals from scratch, walking our crazy dog, eating all kinds of foods, growing said foods, listening to and discovering new music, writing, thinking about Dominic West in the nuddy...
Now I know that times were tough in the late '70s and early '80s - my dad was ill and my mum was suffering from lifelong and undiagnosed bi-polar disorder and they were going through a bad time in their relationship. But even then surely they could have made the time to find some tiny little thing to give them a moment of joy - a rainbow, a bird singing, a really good shit? I mean times are tough for us too - my health failing, the economic downturn making it harder for my partner to find jobs and the prospect for our daughter's future
Sure, having a ciggie may give you a few moments of peace and introspection but you can do that in so many ways.
It's not being imaginative or creative - a machine makes the cigarette for you, packs it into a little box and wraps it in cellophane. All you have to do is take one out and light it. Why don't you light up a joss-stick, then we'd all be happy? Or set light to a Joss Stone CD and then we'd be delighted?
It would certainly be poetic justice if there was some kind of eternal afterlife which you spent doing what gives you pleasure in this one. So while my parents sit chainsmoking Kensitas Club surrounded by people driving fast cars, dancing the tango and having really hot and steamy sex. With Dominic West.
It's like saying to someone "What really gets your blood boiling?" and they answer with things like Post Office queues, rainy weather or Simon Cowell when they should be up in arms about fascism, homophobia or Jeremy Clarkson.
The thing that makes me most angry I think is that they both died from smoking-related illnesses - he from heart disease and she from emphysema. If they had maybe stopped and thought, they might have seen their children all grow up, met our partners and their grandchildren.I really want to go back to them and say, look, if every time you feel the need for a smoke, seek out something else to do and then you might still be here with us.
On the other hand, maybe not...
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