In the mid eighties I spent three months smoking only John Player Specials. At the time they were highly regarded, but that didn’t stop me publishing the following slating:
“There is no cigarette more redolent of fibreglass than the John Player Special, and none more indolent than those who partake of them.
Oafish and loud, JPS smokers have over-inflated ids and tiny underpants. Their demeanour is that of one who spies for east European radicals wanting a) the secret recipe of pot noodles and b) to know what will happen next to the Gold Blend couple.
The cigarettes themselves are manufactured in the sixth circle of hell - that's why the packet is black. You may stumble across them being traded for moon dust on Thursdays in Dorset, as I have on many occasions. I have yet to discover why moon dust is important in hell.
Each and every JPS stick contains a human soul that whispers 'Thank you John' when one sucks on the lit fag. Lighting the JPS is easy. A naked flame will jump several metres across a room to oblige and the smoking experience is one of dampened enthusiasm for the Oxbridge boat race.”
The file on John Player Special continues to grow: I recently discovered quite by accident (I fell into a hell pit whilst walking in the Peak District and got chatting with a minor demon) the importance of moon dust. It is essential to entrap the souls of the damned in the cigarette. The process technicalities are in the realms of advanced and relatively arcane magik. Thaumaturgy plays an important role, but to divulge more would put my source in danger.
Further developments on this file are promised. My demon friend and his mates are coming round to mine for lasagne on Thursday...
2 comments:
JPS were scary - they just look deadly!!
You said it brother. They were the goth's smoke of choice.
Post a Comment