An impassioned plea

At some point during my self-imposed hermithood, in the past year and a half or so, public opinion regarding smokers has plummeted down the proverbial scale-of-barely-concealed-horror to somewhere juuuust above the disgust you'd feel if someone nearby soiled themselves.

On a warm day.

I’m extrapolating on the plethora of offended and scandalised expressions shot me as I waited for friends outside a Central London Tube station and dared to light up.

It's possible I’m exaggerating. Somewhat.

But, and I shit you not, last night I exhaled a lungful, considerately aimed up above the head of passers by, and a middle aged couple shot me a look that suggested I'd torn the head off a motherfucking baby, right in front of them. So intense that god, I was actually surprised! I mean, we were outside! A public street. An albeit crowded, fairly touristy street, but a street nonetheless. Fresh air, great ventilation, and all that hooey.

Is this how it is now? London used to be full of fucking smokers! Existing relatively peacefully alongside non-smokers, unmolested. Even after the indoor smoking ban (a sad day, let me tell you) we persevered; banished to the doorsteps of pubs, bars and restaurants city-wide but banding together in a sense of camaraderie. A necessary evil to keep the insides of these establishments smoke-free for their patrons, and we accepted it (somewhat) gracefully. But now? Are we to be pushed off the streets themselves too?

Jesus.