I loved smoking, but plans to end cigarette sales mustn’t go up in flames

Are we reaching the fag-end of smoking culture? Certainly, that is the government’s hope, as it aims for England to be “smoke-free” by 2030 (defined, rather confusingly, as less than 5 per cent of the population smoking). To that end, a review of current rules and restrictions has concluded that the age at which it is legal to buy tobacco products should be raised by one year, every year, until the only person left smoking is a decrepit centenarian who spends their time desperately searching corner shops around Britain for a packet of Benson & Hedges Gold.

While smoking rates have been falling here since the 1970s, there remain 6 million people in England who regularly light up – and during the early part of the pandemic, the number of smokers in the 18-34 age bracket increased by a quarter to just over 26 per cent. Given that smoking causes around 75,000 deaths a year, and puts significant strain on the NHS, proposals to further restrict the consumption of cigarettes seem like a good thing.

No doubt there will be rows to come about the “nanny state”, as libertarians get their knickers in a twist about having their private behaviour managed by do-gooder government advisers. To a certain extent, I have sympathy with that instinct; although the simple fact is, we are constantly redefining the boundaries of what actions are permitted by the law. Then again, I might feel differently if the proposals were being made about alcohol consumption.

In my youth, I was one of those slightly irritating teenagers who was voluble in their antipathy towards cigarettes. If I found out that someone I admired was a smoker, they immediately went down in my estimation. Far from feeling any peer pressure to try it myself, I actively sought to put anti-smoking pressure on my friends: though with hindsight, I can’t imagine that the possible disapproval of their spoddy mate did much to put anyone off. When I discovered that my mother had once been a smoker, I was genuinely shocked.

But a strange thing happened when I was about 23. I began to have pleasant dreams about cigarettes. I have no idea what triggered it, since I had hung around with plenty of smokers during three years of university without ever once feeling the inclination to join them. But whatever the reason, the dreams became weirdly persistent, to the point where I began to feel that I was actually a smoker. Eventually, when an opportunity presented itself, after a boozy dinner with some friends, I succumbed for real.

It would of course be good to say that I found the experience foul, never did it again and the dreams stopped. But in fact, I discovered the awful truth: smoking was delightful.

Thereafter, I smoked very moderately, but regularly: usually cadging the odd one or two during nights out, and occasionally buying a packet to share with others. I rarely smoked alone or without a drink: but there were plenty of times when I was among friends and under the influence.

For me, the 2007 ban on smoking in pubs and restaurants was a godsend, since those were more or less the only places I ended up with a cigarette in my mouth. Since I had never become addicted, I found that I didn’t really miss tobacco: and on the rare occasions I did still smoke, I was much more aware of the morning-after stench, which was no longer merely part and parcel of a night out.

Like many others, during the first Covid lockdown I had occasional urges to pop out and buy some fags – as much as for the modest thrill as for any stress-management they might have offered. But having lectured my children on the dangers of tobacco, it felt like the height of hypocrisy to sneak round the corner and light up. It must be five years at least since I last gave in to nicotine temptation.

The popularity of the ban on smoking in indoor public places has only grown since it was introduced – including among smokers. It seems entirely conceivable that the same will be true of any further restrictions that come into force. So, pleasant as that first smoky head-rush might be, let’s not pretend that the world wouldn’t be a better place without cigarettes. Let the do-gooders butt in, and get smoking stubbed out.