The beer, the peanuts, the rollup, - one of the few pleasures i look forward to at the end of a long day.
Only nowdays in jolly old England I have to stop relaxing with my drink, and after taking the visual abuse of an image showing a cancerous neck growth on the back flap of my bacci packet, i have to then run outside -from a pub which has never seen, a child, a non smoker or, god forbid, a ham frickin' sandwich -to smoke in the unusually sub-zero temps of London in February to 'enjoy' my fag. . Where's William Wallace when you need him eh!? CRY FREEDOM!!
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