We few, we happy few...

It's been just over a month since the smoking ban came into force here in Scotland.

Pubs no longer smell of smoke and ash. Instead the only things you can smell in the pubs in this fair city are those of cheap perfume, body odour and the occasional dog shit that someone has inadvertently stepped in.

I never thought I'd say this but there is a good side to the smoking ban... The camaraderie of the determined few that are refusing to bow to their overlords and are still smoking. As you wander out of whatever pub you're in to set fire to another five minutes of your life you know that there are friends waiting for you. Sure, they're unknown friends but they're friends none the less.

(I've taken to shouting into the air "The cancer sticks are on me!" in a rallying cry for those who don't want to stand out in the cold on their own as I wander out of wherever I am to light up. I've also started relentlessly cajoling non-smokers with shouts of "Come on you lilly livered fuckers, get out here and live a little!" and other fun-filled phrases.)

I was wondering how many friendships will be created by this law. And I came to the conclusion that everyone that's standing outside a pub smoking a cigarette is a friend already. We're the ones who took a stand against oppression, we're the free thinkers of this society, we're the last bastions of cool, we're the heroes and heroines who know smoking is cool.

We few, we happy few, we band of smokers.