De fumigating a patrol car.

Nowadays, smoking seems to have become somewhat of a lepers pastime. We are shunned from public buildings, denied the pleasures of smoking at work and blamed for every ailment on the planet, whether smoking related or not. Non smokers find us reprehensible and reformed smokers are even worse. They would have us publicly executed given a choice in the matter. Despite our voluntary spending subsidising the health service, education and planned manned missions to Mars - okay so that's a little bit of an exaggeration - but we do contribute significantly to the coffers of the treasury above and beyond income tax and VAT.

Back in the days when smoking was not just allowed, but was fashionable and almost expected, JT and I had the occasional penchant for the odd cigar. Now when I say odd, I'm not suggesting anything added. Just a shop bought innocent cigar. Stoggies.

The benefit of working in Dundee is that 5 minutes in any direction and beautiful countryside abounds. Seriously. Our daily patrol would include some of Dundee's periphery and naturally, being keen outdoorsmen - verging on the Ray Mears, we would stop and appreciate our surroundings. (Anyone believing this guff????)

Occasionally, such interludes were interspersed with said odd cigar. Just think about it...... No-one in their right mind would stand outside in hosing rain, so it's safe to assume we only partook of the tobacco log during climate weather, purely to keep the midges at bay. No other reason, just self survival in a blaze of biting wee buggers that frighten every other living animal on this planet.

Unfortunately, for reasons that escape my memory, it was decided that the outside was either too cold, too wet, too fresh, too close to recent muck spreading or something similar, such that the cigars were enjoyed inside the patrol car. One each. Simultaneously. With the windows closed. What??? Yes, the windows were closed. If I remember correctly, the initial decision to keep the windows closed was competitive. Which of us fine, upstanding, athletic, outdoorsmen would concede defeat? The answer will remain a mystery, but suffice to say neither of us were particularly fresh scented for the next call, green with tobacco smoke poisoning, coughing like drain and sounding like a Dalek. At least the last prisoner's fleas hiding in the rear seat were exterminated and the car subsequently well aired before returning to the station to hand over the car to the incoming shift.

To this day I still enjoy the odd cigar, but have to admit it is always outdoors, only after a good meal and most definitely accompanied by a nice malt.