I dropped by Velvet Glove, Iron Fist yesterday.
Christopher was on about Tobacco on TV. I laughed out loud as I read it.
For some reason an image came to mind of Albert Steptoe hunched over a little television with his little notebook and a stub of a pencil frantically counting every sight or mention of a cigarette.
I’m well aware that the gender may be wrong, but my mental image still stands.
A week or so ago I watched a film.
“Lucky” is a film about … well, I’m not quite sure. There was no romance or suspense. There were no explosions or car chases. There was one glimpse of a gun but this is definitely not a film for the shoot-em-up generation.
Basically it just followed the eponymous Lucky – a 90 year old – as he lived his life in one of those dusty Arizona Desert towns [at least I assume it was Arizona, though it doesn’t really matter]. It was an excellent film with a lot of humour – there is a scene repeated several times where we see Lucky pass a gate and each time he stops and shouts “cunt” for no apparent reason.
The one thing about the film that struck me was the frequent emphasis on smoking. One of the very first scenes is a close up of a cigarette being lit, and Lucky smokes like a trooper throughout. At one point he calls into the store “for his usual three packs”. He visits his doctor who tells him he is remarkable health considering he’s 90 and a smoker [now where have I heard something similar before?] and that it would probably do more harm for him to quit [that’s familiar too].
It is a film I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend, especially to Snowdon’s friend Jo Cranwell.
Guaranteed to give her a heart attack.