Learning to Cook

Yup, this pretty much sums it up.

Three is the Magic Number

Today is a very special day. Today is the 3 month anniversary of when I stopped smoking for the very last time. There are certain important milestones when you stop smoking, but none are so important as the three month mark. Because when you hit three months, you know you've really cracked it. In fact, it's such a good sign, I only realised it was three months today by complete accident.

Don't get me wrong, I do still think about it VERY occasionally. Every now and then I get the slightest of cravings... Actually, it's not so much a craving, it's more like a memory of something I used to do. It's a bit like bumping into an old girlfriend who broke your heart ten years ago - the pain is totally gone and forgotten, but the memory of it can still make you contemplative for a minute or two.

However, there is absolutely no question whatsoever of me ever smoking again, and that's a wonderful feeling. I have battled to reach this point for some considerable time, so I'm going to enjoy this moment.

I understand that there's no such thing as just one cigarette, no matter what. I can never 'just this once' take the risk. And for the first time ever, I really appreciate and accept that. But perhaps more importantly, I don't feel that I'm being denied anything, I don't feel that I'm missing out. Whether I'm having a good day or a bad one, smoking is just no longer inside my thought process.

I guess I no longer define myself by whether I smoke or not - I'm not a recovering ex-smoker, I'm a confirmed non-smoker. And I have to say, that feels pretty bloody good. I just wish I'd reached this point years ago!

Permission to be mightily embarrassed, Sir?

Permission granted. Aaaaaarrrrghh! I really should be banned from going near a computer when I'm stopping smoking. Of course my dark mood has flown as quickly as it came, and today I am left sheepishly reflecting on a rather melodramatic outpouring of self-indulgent nonsense. Again.

Still, it's good to know that I'm not actually mental. And it's a useful point of reference if I have another crisis to know that is isn't actually real. But now I'm in virgin territory - I really don't know what comes next. It's different when you're giving up because of someone else and I've usually fallen over by now. I'm hoping that's it and I've cracked it, but I'm not going to bank on it. That's just what it wants me to think...

So it's back to normality and apologies for those of you that actually read through it all.

The Spell is Broken, Crisis Averted

Phew. I was ambushed last night by an overwhelming and surprising need to smoke and I was totally unprepared for it. I managed not to smoke, obviously, but it gave me such terribly sad dreams (thanks for nothing, subconscious) that I awoke feeling unbelievably low. I can laugh about it now, but it felt pretty damn real at the time. It was the usual stopping smoking stuff - life is rubbish, you feel crap, you can't cope with it, what you really need is a cigarette, that will make it all better...

Fortunately, I decided to do something about it rather than mope about the house in a cloud of self-pity. I went to Aldi and bought misshapen vegetables, I went for a four-mile walk around Burrator, I made myself a full Sunday roast and I made a huge pot of my special soup to eat during the week. Lovely.

And that did the trick, it got me out of the melancholy in which I'd somehow managed to find myself. It's so weird that it can get me like that, it's like a veil of deception slowly descends and makes you see life in a very different way to how you normally do. It makes you forget what's real and what's not.

It's bizarre, because I'm actually feeling really quite positive about things at the moment. I've stopped smoking (and everyone who knows me will appreciate how important that is for me). I'm living healthily, with proper food and actual real-life exercise and I'm even enjoying it (mostly). Work is better now than it has been for about two years - I've already done more business this year than I did in the whole of last year. Sams is going well, I've got my fundraising mojo back and I'm three weeks into a new training group. I have a tremendous group of friends, both new and old. On the whole, life is pretty good.

On the relationship front, which was the battleground of the latest attack, I'm also feeling pretty comfortable. I've been single for nearly a year and a half and although of course I'd like to eventually meet the girl of my dreams, I'm in no rush to jump into anything. I know what I want and what I don't want. It has to be right, on both sides, and sooner or later, someone I think is brilliant will also think I'm brilliant. Until that point, I'll just carry on being brilliant on my own.

It's just that when the smoking veil of deception is lowered... I forget all of that, I really do. I suddenly feel terribly lonely, insecure, rejected, incapable, demotivated, inadequate, helpless and hopeless... followed by the sickening realisation that the only thing I really have in my life is a cigarette. And that is really how it gets me, often without any real basis whatsoever. It's like being under a magic spell or hypnosis. And it really does take a superhuman effort to snap myself out if it and get back to reality. And when I do, it's actually like waking up from a bad dream, you can't quite believe that you felt like that.

That's one of the reasons why I write these little updates - they're probably not of much use or interest to anyone else but me, but they do enable me to remember what's important when the veil descends. Because it can be frightening - it's so real at the time and yet it's absolutely not me at all. There's a part of you that is in some way aware of what's going on, but no matter how loud you shout, you just can't break the spell.

Fortunately, I'm not the only one. Having spoken to a few ex-smokers and to others who are in the process of stopping smoking, it would appear that my experience is not unique. And that's really quite reassuring to hear, to know that I'm not actually going mad - and that it does go away eventually. Someone has told me that by three months, you're normally out of the woods and into the clear. I'm about halfway there, madness permitting.

One last thing - I will allow myself a modicum of pride - I have managed to overcome the six-week hurdle, which has made me fall so many times in the past. I managed to shake myself out of it, to break the spell and come out of the other side. I'd like that to be the last attack, please, but we'll see. Onwards and upwards.

Below the Belt on Valentines Day...

Yup, it's another smoking update. I'm nearly at week 6 of stopping smoking and I've reached the point where the vast majority of my previous attempts to stop have failed. I don't know why it is, but around the six-week mark, the smoking bug just creeps back into my head and I can really, really feel it trying to force its way in. Like menstruating at Castle Dracula, this is a very, very dangerous period.

It was around this time in December that my last attempt failed - back then, I was working nights which made me overtired. This in turn - coupled with smoking withdrawals - made me overemotional, which made me want to smoke. And rather than it being a craving of wanting to smoke, it felt like a fact that it was only a matter of time before I would smoke. Not a fear, not a desire, but a hard, cold, undeniable fact. And no matter how much I tried to dismiss it, not acting on it felt as futile as saying I would never eat or breathe again. I genuinely felt like I didn't have a choice, all I was doing was delaying the inevitable.

This time it's different. Not because I feel different, because I don't. I feel just as vulnerable as I did back in December, perhaps even more so. And I can feel it once more, checking for cracks, looking for a weakness to exploit, trying to get me to recognise the futility of believing I can stop. Tonight, incidentally, it's trying to get me on Valentines Day, trying to get me to reflect on love lost and rejection. It would be so easy to follow that path, to immerse myself in melancholy and misery - it's not fair and it's below the belt. And yet I know where that path will lead. And that's why this time it's different.

It's different because I realise that this is actually just smoke and mirrors. I am normally a tremendously positive person, comfortable with myself and my surroundings, I'm not a particularly insecure person - the only time I get in any way maudling or self-doubting is when it comes to smoking. The physical dependency of smoking is broken within days of stopping - the psychological dependancy takes much, much longer and it undermines my very being until I eventually break. I can't believe that it's taken me this long to really appreciate that.

The complicated thing about all this is that it's hard to tell what's real emotion and what's smoking-related nonsense. I think that there is an element of reality, but that it's magnified manifold by smoking's desire to break me. It's funny - many non-smokers think that smokers are weak. If only they knew the psychological battle we face and the mental strength needed to overcome it.

In the past I have been able to stop smoking, but it's often been for other people. This time I've broken that link and I'm doing it just for me. That's a good thing, and I know that when I do break the psychological hold it has over me, it will taste all the sweeter.

Whatever happens, I will not smoke. It can break me into a thousand pieces, I will not smoke. Because this time I have finally seen it for what it is, it's a con act, an illusion, a simple trick which I have always fallen for - I stop smoking, it makes me feel crap, I dig in, it keeps making me feel crap, eventually I crack and then I smoke. Finally I have worked it out and I will simply not react to it.

In some ways, it feels like I am trapped in a cold, dark cell, with walls of thick, grey stone. And yet if I look closely, the walls are just cinematic props, made of paper. I just have to recognise that, remember that and punch my way through. It's going to take some time, but for the first time ever, I now have a cold, hard, undeniable fact of my own: whatever the question, smoking is not the answer.

Run Fatboy Run

Well, I'm a month into my training routine for the Plymouth Half Marathon and truth be told, I've hit a bit of a snag. See, I have never really run in my life - and I only stopped smoking just over a month ago, so my initial level of fitness isn't the best. I found a running schedule for beginners on the internet to prepare for a half marathon in 20 weeks and I can't keep up. Or more to the point, my fitness isn't improving fast enough to keep up with the schedule. I guess there are 'normal beginners' and then there's me.

To be fair to my already dented pride, I always thought the schedule was ambitious, to say the least. To go from wheezing, smoking couch potato to running for 30 minutes without stopping in just 6 weeks was simply never going to happen, no matter how many ice baths I take. And I haven't missed a session in the last 5 weeks or so since I started, no matter how much I hurt - I just can't progress at the level I should be according to the schedule.

At first glance, this may appear to be yet another 'Chez in massively over-ambitious and highly unrealistic doomed to fail plan shocker', but it won't be. I am training when I need to, I just need to take it more at my own pace and develop naturally and organically, rather than by some off the peg plan. The plan works on paper, but is simply unrealistic in real life.

So I have thrown it in the bin and got a more realistic plan from a friend who's recently got into running herself - I've tweaked my diet to be a bit more training-friendly - and now that my fitness is better, I'm ready to go to the gym to build up a bit of muscle so my shell-shocked body can handle it a bit better. And I'm still doing the ice baths - my legs would have fallen off by now without them. Seriously, they're not as bad as you think. Well, they are, but you get used to it.

And the marathon? Well, my plan is to not worry about it too much, just gradually keep increasing my fitness. And I suspect that if I am able to do that, to the point where I can run for more than half an hour without stopping - well, I will run, walk and crawl my way round if I have to.

Fags for Nothing

Today I have reached the magical three week mark of stopping smoking, and as such, I am now officially no longer mental. Therefore, unless the absolutely unthinkable happens (which it won't), there will be no more smoking updates. Simply assume that I'm still not smoking unless you hear otherwise (which you won't). And believe me, if I do fall over again (which I won't), the fallout will make Chernobyl look like a birthday candle (although hopefully with fewer dead sheep).

The Running Man

I am now in my second week of training for the Plymouth Half Marathon, and things are indeed hotting up. I did about two miles today (half walk, half run) and my fitness is already starting to improve. And bizarrely, I actually really enjoyed it. I mean yes, it was hard, I thought my legs were going to fall off and yes, I did have to really push myself, especially at the end. But I found myself smiling once I'd finished, and I was deliriously happy and rather hyper for about 2 hours afterwards. In fact, it felt almost exactly like being on ecstacy, I should imagine.

Afterwards, I tried a new thing, which I was tremendously excited about. I tried an ice bath. You have to remember, I haven't run since, well, never. And after the first couple of training sessions, my poor underused muscles were screaming. Not just afterwards, I'm talking about three days later, when it was time to do the next training session. Then I remembered Eddie Izzard got through his marathons with ice baths, so I did a bit of research. And apparently ice baths really do help.

So I emptied a bag of ice into the bath and filled it with cold water. I'm thankful that no-one was in the house at that time, they would have thought I was being raped by an eskimo. I have never experienced anything quite like it. It wasn't too bad once I got used to it, but the first five minutes or so - well, it would have been less painful if I'd punched myself in the nuts. With a hammer. With a spike in it. Whilst on fire. With a steam iron tied to my cock.

However, the effect was simply magical. My throbbing legs hurt no more, there was no stiffness whatsoever (not surprising in water that cold). And the best bit of all - an hour later, when I had a hot shower, every single nerve in my body tingled. It was exactly like having a shower on speed, I should imagine.

I think the biggest surprise of all of this is that I'm actually starting to enjoy it and incredibly, I'm actually looking forward to the next one. I always thought that getting fit was something you sort of felt you should do, but it wouldn't be much fun and would probably hurt quite a lot. A bit like having sex with Madonna or punching Bono.

And that's the reason why I signed up for the marathon. I thought if I signed up for something and then told everyone I was going to do it sponsored for Samaritans - I wouldn't allow myself not to do it, for fear of letting people down and the shame of admitting I actually have no mental grit or discipline. I never thought for a second that I'd actually enjoy any of it.

Oh, and smoking? Yes, I do still think of it from time to time. And I'm not quite ready to be surrounded by it. But it's a lot easier and I have without a doubt cracked it. Yup, all in all, 2010 is shaping up to be a good year.

I love the smell of permanent marker in the morning. It smells like victory.

OK, so it's day whatever on the stopping smoking front and that's quite a good sign. When you forget how long it's been since you stopped (I think it's about nine or ten days), you know you're really on the way up. Next milestone is the three week stage, which is when proper normality should resume. I do still get the odd faint urge, plus the occasional bout of wibble. That should come to an end in about 10 days time. All I have to do now is just remember never to smoke ever again. Bizarrely, that's what's always got me in the past. However, I very much doubt that I will fall again. I am already starting to feel like a non-smoker.

Today was only my second training session for the Plymouth Half Marathon and I already hate running and want it to die. And I cannot find my yellow running trousers for love nor money, so I'm having to wear shorts. Although on reflection, that's probably not a bad thing. On the plus side, I did manage to do about a mile, so if I can just get fit enough to do that another 13 times in one go without collapsing, I should be fine.

I have to admit, though - the best bit about it is getting back in the house and putting a big black cross through the training schedule date I have pinned to my mirror. There's something very satisfying about putting a big black cross through anything.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually going to get fit. The last time I got fit was purely by accident and completely out of laziness. I was at university and lived around an hour's walk from campus. My bike was stolen after about three days, so I had to walk in. Uni started at around 9am, and that meant getting up at around 7.30 to be on time. Invariably, I'd end up staying in bed til about 8.30 and then would have to run to try to avoid being too late.

I quickly realised that the fitter I was - and the more I could run - meant the longer I could stay in bed. So I ended up running to Uni every morning (in Doc Martens and a leather jacket, incredibly) and became really very fit indeed. Until I eventually realised that a moped was even faster and meant even more time in bed, and that was the end of that.

This may well be the first time I will ever get fit out of choice. I will keep you informed as to the developments.

Five is the Magic Number

Big sigh of relief all round as I have reached the first smoking milestone - the magical Day Five. Day five is the day when the cravings subside, a level of normality returns and I stop being quite so melodramatic.

I still have some way to go before I reach the next milestone of three weeks, so I'm not out of the woods just yet. But in general it's a much milder and more subtle form of madness - more hapless than Hamlet, you could say. But the bare-chested, mano-a-mano battle is over and for that, I am grateful.

Actually, this is the first day I've been able to feel positive about stuff this year. It's taken ten days, but slowly I feel like I'm starting to get my head above water and make some progress. I've made some amazing curried soup for work tomorrow, I've bought some running shoes for the Half Marathon I'll be doing in May (plus found a total beginners plan to do it) and I'm really starting to feel good on the smoking front. Thank you for all your kind words of support.

I don't want to tempt fate - but whisper it quietly, the boy might be back on the way up. In no time at all I'll be back to nob gags and terrible puns. Happy belated 2010.

The Morning After the Night Before

Ahem. This morning I am feeling mildly sheepish about my nicotine withdrawal-fuelled emotional outpouring last night. There is always a moment when I stop smoking where I feel that I am going to fail and I am going to smoke. I feel that it is simply inevitable and I might as well just go out and buy cigarettes right now. And that's the point when you really do have to dig deep, to keep fighting even though you feel that you have a 0% chance of success. To keep fighting when all hope is lost really does require an enormous amount of mental strength.

Bizarrely, that's what non-smokers can never understand. Smokers are not all weak-willed, ill-disciplined idiots. The thing about stopping smoking is that you have to have willpower and strength and never, ever have a moment of weakness for the rest of your life. It's no good being strong for 364 days a year, but weak for 1 - that one day will make you fail. Can you, as a non-smoker, imagine being mentally and emotionally strong without one minute of weakness ALL THE TIME, FOREVER? No matter what? Heartbreak, bad news, stress, worry... Yes, it gets easier over time - but you always have to be on your guard and that does take real discipline and inner strength.

Fortunately I managed to get through that last night and this morning things are looking a lot more positive. I'm not out of the woods just yet, but I can certainly see more daylight. And I'm feeling better too.

Incidentally, I do have something to hold onto for this - I would like to do the Plymouth Half-Marathon this year (which is on May 31st) and to do this, I need to be fit. Last time I wasn't smoking (in Portugal) I managed to walk 15 miles, so theoretically it's not impossible... What do you think? Reckon I'll do it?

You can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm an experienced health professional, no time to talk

Whilst trawling through the internet today for news, I stumbled across a rather useful article in the Daily Mail (and it's not often that you say that). It's title is How to Save a Heart Attack Victim. It is a worry of mine that someone will have a heart attack or something and I won't know what to do, so I read the article with some gusto. I'm really glad I did.

Amongst other things, it has the following advice about giving CPR:

"Put your hands in the middle of the chest on the breastbone and push down as hard as you can, 100 times a minute (roughly the same rhythm as the 'ah, ah, ah' bit in the Bee Gees song Staying Alive; I'd sing it in your head, though)."

I actually can't stop laughing at that. I cannot think of a more surreal and funny situation than performing CPR on a heart attack victim, whilst singing 'Staying Alive' in a Bee Gees falsetto. On the plus side, I'm never going to forget it.

"You're going to pay me for this?"

I like my job. I don't love it, but I can think of worse ways to earn a living. However, there are some people that have jobs so good, you can't help but feel green with envy. I'd quite like to be a professional footballer, for example. But I think even they would be quite envious at this job.

Boffins at Portsmouth University have spent two years researching the effect of running on women's breasts. 70 women took part in the survey, with breast sizes varying from small to JJ. If you're wondering how big that is, Jordan is a size F, which is six sizes smaller.

Fundamentally, they've put these women on a treadmill and watched their breasts jiggle about without a bra. I knew I should have chosen a science degree. If any readers can think of a better job, I'd sure like to know.

Too Much to Swallow

As if women needed an excuse, the beeb is reporting a link between oral sex and throat cancer.

Doctor Who?

I must have missed this when I was away, but I've just heard that everyone's favourite poomuncher Gillian McKeith has been forced to stop using Dr. So from now on, she is only Miss Gillian McKeith. This was after a complaint was made to the Advertising Standards Authority by a member of the public, who had challenged whether the poisoned dwarf was a qualified and accredited doctor and entitled to use the term.

I must say, I do hate the woman. I feel that she is a bully, earning a fortune from the misery of fat people. And I actually read her book. What a waste of money. It was poorly written, poorly researched and full of glaring inconsistencies. For someone so obsessed with poo, she is clearly full of shit.

I like to Pump it...

I have finally joined a gym, after many years of procrastinating. I've managed to stop smoking; I'm eating reasonably healthily and I'm coming up to a year of vegetablism. It's the next logical step, isn't it?

Having said that, yesterday was my first trip to the gym and I wrestled with my conscience before I went, trying to think of all manner of excuses as to why I shouldn't go. But I decided to go anyway and felt fantastic afterwards. I really must try and remember that. Although I don't want to take it to extreme. I don't want to look like this again....

Surprise!

I ate meat yesterday for the first time in about 8 months. It was chicken. And it wasn't for any Paul Wellerian reasons ("I was fucking hungry"), it was sneaked into my seafood surprise. Obviously that was the surprise. Needless to say, I wasn't happy. But what surprised me most of all was that it made me want to be sick. Occasionally when I see someone eating a fillet steak or parma ham, I do miss it. But eating that bit of chicken has just made me realise why I stopped eating meat in the first place.

Out with the Old...

Well, Christmas is over and much fun was had by all. Good food, good company, a real tree and some rather fantastic presents. Including a marvellous vegetarian cookbook, a bracelet and a hand-painted picture from my little Slovenian nutcase friend Josie: "In 2007 I wish you a dirty woman". One can only hope.

And of course, once Christmas is over, one cannot help but think of the new year approaching and the year that has been. I had high hopes for this year and it turned out to be a bit of a rollercoaster, all things being equal. Good in some ways, shocking in others. So what lies in store for 2007?

Will it be a good one? A bad one? The last two have been particularly tricky. Not bad per se, just full of lessons that I probably needed to learn, but didn't particularly want to. But it's all gravy, as they say in the hood and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger etc. It's just that I'm a little tired of learning now, I'd really like a nice year this year.

So 2007... I have plans. Inspired by my recent novel-writing escapade, I've decided it's time to revisit my list of things I've always wanted to do. And it's no good sitting here year after year, thinking I wish I could do this or that. Until I find a magic lamp to make those wishes come true, I'm going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. So here are my ambitions for 2007.

- I'm going to learn to play the piano. I used to play, but I stopped when I was about 11. Being taught piano by the mega-religious church organist was not the best idea. Kids do NOT want to learn to play hymns.

- I'm going to learn to play the guitar. I was taught violin when I was at junior school. And they did the lessons in play time. So when every other kid was out playing in the sun, I was stuck inside, learning to play three blind mice. Again, not the best inspiration to turn me into a budding Nigel Kennedy. Thankfully.

- I'm going to take up running. I did once accidentally get quite fit through pure laziness. I kept oversleeping and was always late for uni. So I'd end up running to college and I did end up quite fit. I rather enjoyed it, to be honest. And I think a bit of exercise will do me good.

- I'm going to learn to draw. I've always wanted to learn to draw, but I've never been taught. I enjoyed the creativity of writing the novel, and I'd like to be able to express that creativity in something that doesn't take that long to do. Something that isn't all-consuming.

- I'm going to live more healthily. No more crisps for dinner (and lunch and breakfast).

- I'm going to have a proper go at tai chi. I found it pretty difficult and frustrating, but that's probably a good thing.

- Finally, I'm going to put something back into the world. I've already signed up to give blood and I think I'm going to do some voluntary work. Haven't quite decided what yet, I'm thinking maybe Samaritans. It's something I've always thought about doing but has scared the shit out of me to be honest.

So those are my New Year's Resolutions 2007. I'll let you all know in 12 months whether I managed to achieve them all!

Day 1...

Yup, today I have stopped smoking again. It was fucking tough this afternoon, there were countless times I had to fight the temptation to go to the shops and buy fags. But somehow I managed to resist the temptation and day one smoke-free is finished.

I hate stopping smoking. I am determined that this is the last time I have to do this. Tonight I didn't know what to do with myself, I didn't want to be with anyone but I also didn't want to be alone... I didn't know if I was going to burst into tears or into manic laughter. I've got so much energy built up in my muscles, I keep having to do Hulk-style muscle stretches...

And I can feel it searching for a weakness. I often think of my cigarette addiction as being a separate entity from me, like a monster that I have to face. This morning it fought on the old the enjoyment / pain battleground, one that I just about managed to win.

Since then, it's tried all sorts of different tactics to get me to smoke again and I'm resisting them all. I will not give in. Not this time. It's not easy this time - in the past it has been. But this time I think I need it to be hard, I need to feel the pain of it. I think that will be the only way I will not take it up again.

So, off to hide behind a giant packet of crisps for a couple of days. Wish me luck.

Death Sticks from Hell

A lot has been made of the recent death of Alexander Litvinenko due to Polonium-210 poisoning. I had never heard of Polonium-210 before this episode - chemistry was never my strong point - but apparently one milligram of Polonium-210 emits as many alpha particles as 5 grams of radium. Weight for weight, it is 10 to the power of 9 times more toxic than hydrogen cyanide. In fact, one gram of Polonium-210 is enough to poison 100 million people, of which 50 million people would die.

Was reading today Kyklops' struggles at stopping smoking. I rather stupidly took up smoking again recently. And today, more than ever, I wish I hadn't. I was doing a little bit of research... And you can imagine my joy when I discovered that cigarette smoke contains Polonium-210. According to U.S. Surgeon General C. Everett Koop (on national television, 1990) radioactivity, not tar, accounts for at least 90% of all smoking related lung cancer. And guess what? The cigarette manufacturers have known about this since the 60's.

And when you dig deeper into what are actually breathing into your lungs, it absolutely fills you with horror. There are 43 known carcinogens in cigarette smoke. 43! There are over 4,000 different chemicals. Aside from Polonium-210, there is also lead-210, which is also radioactive. And there are also the old favourites hydrogen cyanide, ammonia, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxide and of course, how could we forget formaldehyde?

And I was horrified to find out that animals are STILL being submitted to the most horrendous tests by the cigarette companies. Examples include:

* Cutting holes in beagles' throats through which the dogs are forced to breathe concentrated cigarette smoke for a year.

* Inserting electrodes into dogs' penises to measure the effect of cigarette smoke on sexual performance.

* Strapping masks to the faces of rats and monkeys and permanently restraining them to force them to breathe cigarette smoke constantly.

* Forcing dogs to be on mechanical ventilators and chronically exposed to cigarette smoke.

* Restraining Rhesus monkeys in chairs with head devices and exposing them to nicotine and caffeine to determine how caffeine and nicotine affect breathing.

Having now been vegetarian for about five months, I am horrified that this is still going on. Thankfully it's been illegal in Britain since 1997, but in the States it is still widespread, paid for by both the taxpayer AND the cigarette companies, even though the long-term effects are pretty much well-known.

All things being equal, I think that cigarette manufacturers are about as close as we will ever get to Satanic representation on earth. I mean, I bet even Hell wouldn't have been able to come up with something as evil as cigarettes. Cigarettes not that big in size, really... How the hell do they manage to fit all that stuff in them? It must be really packed in to fit so much that is bad for you in one little stick.

It reminds me of the Terry Pratchett book 'Omen'. For those that haven't read it, there's an angel and a demon on earth, maintaining balance. And they both let each other have the odd victory every now and then. The demon, Crawley, receives a commendation from Satan for the Spanish Inquisition... And it was the first time he'd even heard of it. Just goes to show that we are often better at creating suffering for ourselves and our surroundings than anything old Beelzebubbles has downstairs.