My mistake. I’ll run it again in full, for “Joe”. And, by the way, for the record, I don’t know what a “psyche ward” looks like, but you seem pretty familiar with that world. When I was 19, I had heart problems. Dr. Fleming wanted to keep me in the hospital for a couple of days and run tests. It was amazing smokers were put into the room with me.
Joe, I mentioned you, and was remiss in pinging to you. So, here it is complete with the link to joulez’ reply.
“Oh, and by the way, joules, or whatever your name is, exactly who is doing the “transference” here, insinuating I’m a “psyche patient”? Ha! Ask my dearest love, Joe 6-pack, how I feel about smokers. As you know, he is one.
“But back to transference, you can add my little “chip” to the mountain on your shoulder. How about “huffy, puffy”, words that incidentally describe a smoker to a ‘T’?
“The truth is, you’ve got your nose out of joint because I blew a hole in your selfish nostalgia about the good old days, smoking up hospital corridors.
“You know not everyone remembers your indoor smoking so fondly, but then you were just trying to bait folk weren’t you... for sport... in the wee hours... like you are wont to do almost every night? Sad.
“Come on joulez, you can still devour another pack of fags before you conk out. It’s not even midnight.”
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