A long time ago now, I gave up being in a doss band and got a proper job as a smoke journalist. What is a smoke journalist, you ask? In my new column for this august blog, I intend to acquaint you with my work, my inner world, my findings and musings.
Case Study No 1946: West
The West cigarette is not one that imbues the smoker with any air of grace, style or even humanity. The image one portrays as the first fag is tapped out of the ill-conceived packet is that of a line dancing simpleton who, given half a chance, would wear a pink plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a comedy 10 gallon hat the size of Gibraltar with the legend "Howdy, y'all" at their own mother's funeral. The West smoker affects a saddle-sore bow-legged gait and if one listens closely, they can be heard making the sound of spurs chinking under their breath with each step.
West cigarettes are manufactured under license by a panel beater called Jim in Cleethorpes and upon close inspection, each cigarette has the message "John Wayne was big leggy" down its length, like Blackpool rock. It is extremely difficult to light the stick without the use of an oxy-acetelene burner or match and the smoking experience is one of finding that where once you had flowing, golden locks of hair, you now possess leaves. Best avoided.
4 comments:
Nice Hayzey Fantazey reference - anyone remember the b-side, The Sabres of Paradise?
No.
not surprising...
I first became aware of West cigarettes in Germany. It was about 6 years since reunification. I saw a massive billboard saying 'West is best!', this was quite puzzling as I couldn't make out if it was a statement or a slogan (there was no pack shot or anything mentioning cigarettes). The phennig dropped on a subsequent visit to the newsagent stand near the Merzhausen tram stop - I saw the fags with the same colouring and typography - how cheap of some marketing manager to claim ubiquity over something as momentous as the fall of the Berlin wall.
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