Chris takes a sip of his third pint and feels the insatiable stiffy of dart-lust grow. As per usual, Chris has not armed himself with a full deck before throwing himself into the beer & banter battle. He struggles internally with his urges while his lack of willpower sends smoke signals to his half-cut brain, “mate, can I pinch a dart?” So it begins.
He takes a satisfying drag of a Benson & Hedges Smooth, “I’m so lucky I’m not addicted, could never smoke a dart sober, would make me yak, ay”. Ah, the desperate reasoning of the social smoker.
After bombing a few dexies Chris starts raiding his mate’s pack like it was a paedo’s laptop. Another mate who’s trying to quit tries to enter his happy place as Chris dishes out some dexie charged wisdom, “feel sorry for you mate, if only you could keep it to weekends but you’re doing the right thing by quitting”. Stfu Chris.
It’s a good thing he isn’t addicted though or the 8 darts he smoked in 1 hour may be cause for alarm. When the deck is empty he begins to feel some guilt, “don’t worry bud, I’ll grab a pack in a sec”. At the counter, Chris experiences the consumer-shock of a parasite that only ever leeches darts, “they cost how farking much?” He’ll be bringing up this purchase for many drinking sessions to come.
Chris charges back into the pub and spots a group of girls he went to Uni with. Fake tanned stunners in flowing floral dresses suck down darts while Chris yammers away, “only smoke when I’m drinking really, my mates are social smokes, they have the fact I can just quit when I want”. Chris is so deep in denial that he is fending off Egyptian fishermen.
As the girls retreat inside partly because it’s cold and partly because Chris smells like a cross between a bus driver’s cardigan and Asian businessman’s morning breath. Chris defiantly remains outside. “I hate drinking inside, love a bit of fresh air”, he announces before coughing up something that might have a pearl lodged in it.
Chris has paid top dollar for these durries so he’s going to make sure he goes 10 rounds with his lungs. He’s not ringing the bell until one of them collapses.
After one and a half packs Chris decides to call it a night. Unwilling to fork out another first born child on darts he walks home smokeless. This is until he passes a bloke smoking at a bus stop and offers him $2 for a dart, although if he is being honest he’d probably blow the guy at this point, not that he has a problem or anything.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?