COMMENT: It's 11 years since I stopped smoking, defying the predictions of all who know me, including not only my immediate family, but also my GP: "I just had you down as a lifelong smoker" she said supportively when I broke the news.
In that time, I have bought one packet of cigarettes, on behalf of a friend who couldn't leave the house. It proved to be quite the performance, the procedure having evolved so much. I had to ask supermarket staff exactly where I could make my purchase, there being no cigarettes visible. Then there were decisions to be made over the type of cigarette. As for the price – it was on its trajectory to the current high of $25.45 for 20.
The reason my friend couldn't leave the house was that she was dying of lung cancer and at the stage when doctors say: There's no point even thinking about giving up, because it won't make a shred of difference.
So that was ironic. But smoking comes obscured by a stinky cloud of ironies. Not the least grim of these is the health consequences for your friendly neighbourhood dairy owners, who instead of spending their days making small talk with their equally friendly customers, now spend them in fear of being assaulted by thieves in pursuit of cigarettes.
The thieves are apparently a market response, supplying a demand generated by the high price of a packet of fags.