opinion
illustration by Rose Barton
the big rant
columnist boyd farrow on…
what really gets up his nose
It’s shocking just how little outrage has accompanied the smoking ban which now extends to most public places throughout Western Europe. Not the actual huffing and puffing of people who can no longer light up in their favourite bar. Rather, our meek acceptance of all the other, far more irritating things that are still perfectly legal. Take the mobile phone, celebrating its 25th anniversary this year. Why is it still OK to have to listen to someone screaming their ill-conceived opinions as you sip your latte? Isn’t that why you leave the house?
And how many more times must you discover that the hair-twirling temptress wasn’t trying to attract your attention but is talking to someone at the end of an invisible earpiece. In fact, the only thing potentially more embarrassing is the concealed phone camera: one chopsticks mishap in The Jade Dragon these days and you’re on YouTube entertaining more people than the Beijing Olympics.
And how much longer must our peace and our Saturday night movies be interrupted by blasts of pop music emanating from someone’s pocket? Even worse: from the pocket of an adult. Anyone over the age of 16 who goes to the trouble to juvenilise their ringtone should receive a custodial sentence on the grounds that it feels just plain wrong, like watching a toddler knocking back whisky chasers.
The same penalty should also apply to: anyone over the age of 16 listening to an iPod in public; wearing trainers (unless playing sport); displaying a bare midriff (unless you’re called Brandi); ordering a coffee that contains more than three ingredients; or reading Harry Potter or comic books. Note to potential jurors: a graphic novel is Lady Chatterley’s Lover, not something that contains drawings of Astro Boy. Going home faintly smelling of tobacco is a small price to pay to hang out with people much cooler than you. However, merely sharing the same hemisphere with adults who behave like children or morons is an affront to our sensibilities. This is why the list of things that ought to be banned outright should include: old men who dye their hair chestnut (surely Heather Mills’ sole grounds for a big payoff); small dogs (especially the ones in tiny human clothes); Goths (you’re chubby and plain, we get it); and anyone who has a Sanskrit or Maori tattoo, unless they engage in Hindu religious rituals or are of Polynesian descent.
The banned list should also include Western women who carry water with them absolutely everywhere. This isn’t even necessary in Sudan let alone in Sephora. The odd thing is, if you offer a drink to one of these perpetually hydrating wrinkle-obsessives, they always choose a mojito, then ask if you have a spare Marlboro Lite.
Equally obviously, placard-waving protesters should also be banned on common sense grounds and anti-airport expansionists should additionally be forced to surrender their passports. Reality check to all marchers: you never end wars and if the whales were that smart, they’d swim bloody quickly past Japan. The only thing your paper placards ever achieve is to wind up the treehuggers.
Speaking of which, it makes sense to ban all would-be carbon-neutralisers from public. Not because of their moral stance but for aesthetic reasons: no one has ever looked good sweating over the handlebars of a bike.
For the same reason all public displays of affection should definitely be banned unless both participants are, like, totally hot. The only trouble with this is that, in general, the slimmest, most attractive people tend to be smokers. And, obviously, kissing is out of the question because of the taste of their goddamn cigarettes.
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