Nosmo King & The Vaping Man.

I appear to have given up smoking by accident. 

It all started last week when I was out for lunch with a friend and some random children. 

We decided to luncheon  al-fresco ( due to penury)  and so consumed a brace  of  jacket spuds  with chilli on them in the Bullring Market -  ( after I had extricated a table and chairs from a shed )  followed by a pair of cupcakes that are apparently entirely composed of secret ingredients -  angel dust, Seratonin, and God's Dandruff. 

And heroin. 

 Well, something that makes them extremely  moreish anyway. 

I was so busy trying to get at the butter tub that I almost knocked over a woman who was valiantly trying to praise my writing, and saying to all and sundry that she "feels better after she meets me" and that she is rejuvenated.

 Bless.

 I am so busy trying to get a plastic spoon into a giant butter tub that I am heedless. She could have been telling me the 3rd secret of Fatima for all I am aware. Imagine then my blushes if you will,  when she paid for ALL our  lunches. 

"I'm Morto" says I, wiping a string of cheese off my chin.

"Go way, you're delighted" says she. 

Never a truer word. 

The type of person I am I like to be doing one thing and thinking about the next. As the fella says "I'd rather be looking at it, than looking for  it". On the top of my agenda that day was paint. I take these figareeys now and again. Having hounded an artist who said she had a pot of sage green for my wall , I wanted more. (The pot when it eventually manifested was about the size of an espresso cup so I painted the fireplace instead.)

After 3 de-caf coffees I prevail upon my long suffering friend to take me to the chape paint shop.

(Mr Price to you.) We are parking outside it when the random children pipe up that they want to go into the Market. 

"Market? What Market?" says I.

Clonard Indoor Retail Market is where, and we are parked beside it. 

I am no sooner in the door than I am esconsced at a stall listening to a man who is pausing only to  draw breath and inhale what looks suspiciously like a Parker Pen .

Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the e cigarette.

Lord God in Heaven Above, give me one. 

The man is telling me all the sciencey bits, but I just want to take a drag and see if this is anything  even remotely resembling a fag.

 Mark Twain remarked once - Giving up smoking is easy, I've done it hundreds of times"

Dear Reader, I had never even tried.

Of course I am aware of patches,  gum, nicorette and that horrendous white plastic thing that looks like a pregnancy diagnostic stick. I am also aware of the health and  financial benefits but I just never thought they applied to Me. 

The last straw was when they put pictures of teeth and tumours on the actual box.

 I don't know which was worse.

The e cigarette or Vaping Cigarette has a compartment where you pour a concentrated liquid, a click of a button while you are inhaling flicks a spark that vapourises aforementioned liquid and you get a mouthful of smoke flavoured steam that instantly disappears after you exhale. 

This explains why a chef vaulted the counter in a pub out the country last week.

This thing is miraculous.

It gives a smoker that hit at the back of the throat that is the reason they light up. 

Before you all start to run away with yourselves it is still nicotine. But you can control how much you buy - from 18g, 12g, 6g, 3g. and then down to none. The conditioned brain responds to the repeated hand to mouth movement which is replicated here with the Parker Pen.

So far, so great.

But what will it taste like?

It's actually ok.

 Marlboro flavour is a little like burnt coffee with a bit of burnt cake, but then so is Marlboro really. 

The syrups come in different flavours and strengths and you can experiment with what suits you. In the week since I have had this, I have used it daily, charged it on the USB port of my laptop and demonstrated it to friends, family, and the general public - blowing clouds of steam into the surprised faces of  the nurses, bar -men, waitresses, and shop assistants who make up my average day. 

I also have not bought or consumed a single cigarette. 

Success.

On another note entirely whoever labelled that paint in Mr Price should be brought outside and given a sound thrashing. Nutmeg has a photo that looks like cinnamon or biscuit but is in fact an anaemic shade of lilac. 

The wall is destroyed.

Pass me the vaper before I have another  attack of the vapours. 

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