The tobacco papers #3: tabs of classification

Here’s a little anthropological experiment to try if you’re firstly willing enough to detach yourself from whatever (and whoever) you’re doing and primarily, uncertain what the outcome will be. That way there’s some suspense. (If, frankly, you’re apathetic about having to make any effort whatsoever, then you’ll be pleased to know that the work is done for you providing your eyes can scan text for around 500 words). In your next encounter with upwards of ten strangers – preferably in a social scenario where alcohol and some sort of accompanying sound is involved – see if you can spot who smokes and who doesn’t.NB. for the purposes of this experiment, people who smoke pipes are not classified as proper smokers. That’s because they’re not.

Easy. The tangible puffers tend to hold lit, light-coloured stumps between their fingers which they periodically raise into their faces until the stick becomes a stub. They go outside twice an hour regardless of the weather (not to be confused with the fast-talking people who go to the bathroom twice hourly – they are a different category outside the remit of this experiment) and smell of both bonfires and dust. Inspect one closely and you might find a greyish pallor without supporting portrait getting ever younger in the attic and facial landscapes that include rivers, valleys and craters of premature age supported by gums retreating faster than a badly thought-out battle plan. Generally, the ones that aren’t smoking, don’t.

Begin to notice the subtle nuances of smokeraction. Of the regularly departing, how many reach into their back pockets, bags and neighbour’s outstretched hand with which to retrieve smoking apparatus and what proportion are in fact tailing a smoker proper on the pretence of getting some ‘fresh air’? A quick vital signs check should rule out all leavers whose need for fresh air is combined with a distinct urge to vacate their stomach lining on the nearest patio slab. If leaving is not followed by returning, assume copulation, vomiting or the involvement of a flimsy excuse followed by a Hackney carriage. Clearly, smoking does not a departure make.

Pretty conclusive? Probably. Now eschew any original objectivity you may have approached the above question with and ponder: who of the ‘nons’ used to be a ‘hell yeah’?

To answer you must jaw, corner and listen. Choose a subject and observe closely. Close proximity to foodstuffs (whilst this author wishes to stay well clear of any quasi-obesity analysis), especially the desserts and sugar-based food groups is a surelackoffire ‘non’ teller. If your subject appears to take breaths in between mouthfuls of anything that could rot their teeth instantly, listen carefully for the key words ‘craving’, ‘recently’ and ‘want to avoid weight gain in the process’. 100% word count and you’ve got yourself a has-been nicotine jockey. Look too to the jaws. Whilst halitosis awareness is an admirable and thoughtful social characteristic, repeated jaw palpation of white gum is a fairly certain ‘non’ – that’s not Wrigley’s, that’s NRT.

And finally, corner. See that trembling girl in the corner with the nervous, darting eyes? She isn’t averting a dastardly guilt while her scorned once-lover sets about finding the unpalatable truth, that’s her ocular cavities tracking in desperation for a safe route out of the conversation for which there is not interaction. For this task – largely defunct and socially weird it may be – is designed to save you evenings of aural attack. Know your tabs. Avoid the (recently) born again oratorial quitter.