Flexing The Gunz

“You don’t want another motorbike,” said the wife. “You don’t need another machine cluttering up the place.” The words were proffered with (probably) good reason. The mancave already groaned like an obese man as the sweet trolley approaches the table. There were functional machines, members of the motorcycle walking dead and lumpy metallic memories from rides long gone. I didn’t bother listening. I never listen.

It was a matter of necessity that the garage emptied out. Beating a hasty departure to South America meant that anything not fitting onto a bicycle was instantly classified as excess to requirements. Periodic clearing of the vape desk takes place for entirely different reasons as items fall out of favour. Of course that space is then useful as you can fill it with new stuff. I hang on to my ability to say goodbye to things with pride, it confirms to me that I’m not quite ready to be the person pushing a shopping trolley destined for the house full of rubbish.

The kids cop the same advice. Usually at ten minutes to dinner when they’re cramming down the entire range from Cadburys and Walkers. Of course, the words get bent and take on the hue of adamant instruction. Less ‘you might like to consider‘ and more ‘stop!’

Age is an awesome thing. Whereas most children respond to direction with blind compliance, aggregated birthdays imbue you with the strength to ignore instructions. Do I need to look at Ikea assembly cartoons? Do I flip. I vote, shave and procreate so I will do what I will with a Halford’s socket set. Only when necessity rears its head do I have to give the appearance of conforming. Until that moment I can give succour to my infantile and stubborn nature, relishing those things that deliver pleasure and give life a dab of colour.

And that’s why I blow some big clouds from my dripper. I do it because I enjoy it, it’s my go-to form of vaping, but I’m becoming aware that it isn’t how others would like me to vape. Having spent a couple of years talking to the local MP and sending off letters to my MEP about the planned changes to our ecig-world I reckon I’m pretty conversant in arguments for the freedom to make informed personal choices. But those who would like to see me stopped are other vapers.

I don’t sit in the front row of a cinema doing it – even if I lament the lack of atmospheric smoke sparkling in the projector’s glare. I’d even go so far as to say that if I did it’d be the least offensive thing happening there given the public’s love of mobile phones, explaining film plots to each other and endless crisp packet rustling. I get it, I get that some places aren’t conducive to cloud production. I’d no sooner vape in Asda than indulge in fellatio in Poundland. I get it. But on the other hand it’s hard to accept that sub-ohming makes those who do it the equivalent of a cross between Stanton Glantz, Pol Pot and Vanilla Ice.

In fact I’d contend that flashing images of vape gear online alongside knives and guns is probably worse. In even more fact, I’m almost pressed to say something like ‘you might like to consider‘ or ‘stop!’ when I see them. But then I’d also have to advise people to do what I do and ignore that request as well.