‘So getting a common form of cancer was in line with that – is that what you’re saying?’
‘I don’t know what I’m saying.’
‘I don’t think he would have shaken hands. Being king.’
‘Here’s a serious question. Obama, McCain, Clinton: which of the three of them was the last to smoke?’
‘Bill or Hillary?’
‘Hillary, of course.’
‘Because we all remember Bill’s use of a cigar.’
‘Yes, but did he smoke it afterwards?’
‘Or keep it in a special humidor like she kept the dress?’
‘He could auction it to pay Hillary’s campaign debts.’
‘McCain must have smoked when he was a POW.’
‘Obama must have had a joint or two.’
‘I bet Hillary never inhaled.’
‘By their smoking shall ye know them.’
‘Actually – as your token American present – Obama used to be a big smoker. Took to Nicorettes when he decided to run. But – fallen off the wagon, I hear.’
‘That’s my man.’
‘Would anyone care if one of them did something bad in that line? And got photographed?’
‘It would depend on the quality and nature of the contrition.’
‘Like Hugh Grant after getting a blow job in his car.’
‘Now she inhaled.’
‘Dick, stop it. Remove that bottle from in front of him.’
‘“The quality and nature of the contrition” – I like that.’
‘Not that Bush apologised for having been a cokehead.’
‘Well, he wasn’t endangering others.’
‘Course he was.’
‘You mean, like passive smoking? I don’t think there’s passive coke-inhalation, is there?’
‘Not unless you sneeze.’
‘So there are no harmful effects on others?’
‘Apart from them having to listen to tediously self-excited conversation.’
‘Actually…’
‘Yes?’
‘If Bush was, as they say, an alkie and a cokehead in his former existence, then that would help explain his presidency.’
‘You mean, brain damage?’
‘No, the absolutism of the recovering addict.’
‘You are coming out with the phrases tonight.’
‘Well, it’s my trade.’
‘The absolutism of the recovering addict. Sorry about that, Baghdad.’
‘So what we’re saying is, it does make a difference what they smoked.’
‘Cigars used to make me mellow.’
‘Cigarettes used to give me such a high sometimes, my legs would tingle.’
‘Oh, I remember that.’
‘I knew someone who would set an alarm clock so he could wake up and have one in the middle of the night.’
‘Who was that, sweetie?’
‘Before your time.’
‘I should bloody well hope so.’
‘Anyone see that thing in the paper about Macmillan?’
‘The cancer charity?’
‘No, the prime minister. When he was Chancellor of the Exchequer. ’55, ’56, something like that. A report came in making the link between smoking and cancer. Oh fuck, he thought, where’s the money going to come from if we have to ban fags? Three and six in the pound extra on income tax, or whatever. Then he looked at the figures. I mean, the mortality figures. Life expectancy for a smoker: seventy-three years. Life expectancy for a non-smoker: seventy-four.’
‘Is that true?’
‘That’s what it said. So Macmillan wrote on the report: “Treasury think revenue interest outweighs this.”’
‘It’s the hypocrisy I can’t stand.’
‘Did Macmillan smoke?’
‘Pipe and cigarettes.’
‘One year. One year’s difference. It’s amazing when you think about it.’
‘Maybe we should all take it up again. Just round this table. Secret defiance of a PC world.’
‘Why shouldn’t people smoke themselves to death? If you only lose a year.’
‘Not forgetting the hideous pain and suffering before you get to be the dying seventy-three-year-old.’
‘Reagan advertised Chesterfields, didn’t he? Or was it Lucky Strike?’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘It must have something to do with it.’
‘It’s the hypocrisy I can’t stand.’
‘You keep saying that.’
‘Well, it is. That’s why I do. Governments telling people it’s bad for them while living off the tax. Cigarette companies knowing it’s bad for people and selling their stuff to the Third World because of getting sued here.’
‘Developing World, not Third World. We don’t say that any more.’
‘The Developing-Cancer World.’
‘Not to mention the Humphrey Bogart thing. Remember when they wanted to put him on a stamp and he was smoking in the photo so they airbrushed it out? In case people were sticking a stamp on a letter and saw Bogey smoking and suddenly thought: well, that looks like a good idea.’
‘They’ll probably find a way of cutting the smoking out of films. Like colourising black-and-white movies.’
‘When I was growing up in South Africa, the censorship board cut any film that showed normal contact between blacks and whites. They got Island in the Sun down to about twenty-four minutes.’
‘Well, most films are too long.’
‘I didn’t realise you grew up in South Africa.’
‘And the other thing was, everyone smoked in cinemas. Remember that? You watched the screen through a great haze of smoke.’
‘Ashtrays in the armrests.’
‘Right.’
‘But the thing about Bogey smoking… Sometimes, when I’m watching an old film, and there’s a scene in a nightclub with a couple drinking and smoking and swapping bons mots, I think: this is so fucking glamorous. And then I think: actually, can I have a cigarette and a drink right now?’
‘It was glamorous.’
‘Apart from the cancer.’
‘Apart from the cancer.’
‘And the hypocrisy.’
‘Well, don’t inhale.’
‘Passive hypocrisy?’
‘It happens. All the time.’
‘Is “colourise” a proper verb, by the way?’
‘And does anyone want coffee?’
‘Only if you’ve got a cigarette.’
‘That was always part of it, wasn’t it? The cigarette with the coffee.’
‘I don’t think there are any in the house. Jim left some Gauloises when he stayed, but they’re so strong we threw them away.’
‘And that friend of yours left some Silk Cut, but they’re too weak.’
‘We were in Brazil last year and the health warnings out there are apocalyptic. Colour pictures on the packet of hideous things – deformed babies, pickled lungs and stuff. And the warnings… None of that polite “Her Majesty’s Government” stuff. Or “The Surgeon-General has determined”. They tell you which bits will drop off. There was this guy who went into a shop and bought a packet of… I forget which brand. And he comes out, looks at the health warning, goes back in, hands the packet back and says, “These ones make you impotent. Can I have a packet that gives me cancer?”’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I thought it was funny.’
‘Perhaps you’ve told them the story before, darling.’
‘The buggers could still laugh. It’s my wine they’re drinking.’
‘It was more the way you told it, Phil. Need to tighten the narrative.’
‘Bastard.’
‘I think we’ve got some grass someone left.’
‘Have we?’
‘Yes, in the fridge door.’
‘Where in the fridge door?’
‘The shelf with the parmesan and the tomato paste.’
‘Who left it?’
‘Can’t remember. It must be quite old. Probably lost its jizz by now.’
‘Does it lose its jizz?’
‘Everything loses its jizz.’
‘Presidential candidates?’
‘Them more than anyone.’