Light my Fire

One of the daily hazards we smokers (smokers of cigarettes that is and not smoking hot) encounter daily is an uncertain mix of sulphur and clay at the end of a stick of varying curvature along its length. Otherwise known as a matchstick.

First of all, the stick is liable to break as you strike it and as each stick carries its own peculiarity as to where its weakest point is, you can never predict if the flaming projectile unleashed lands on your crotch or your favorite tie.

Then the explosive mixture itself. If there is too much clay, as is usually the case, the confounded thing refuses to stay alight even in the brief flare – sometimes dying halfway through it. Meaning that you have to bring your hands closer and get the paper of the tip of your cigarette as close to the brief flare.

And that’s when comes along the matchstick with more sulphur to blow Nigeria than a mere cigarette – the one whose mushroom flare extends to the whole length of the matchstick; and which takes half your face and both your hands with it.

As one of them did, maiming my right hand for life, a few minutes ago.

I plan to start a campaign for Safe Smoking, similar in theme to Safe Sex.
Wear a condom while having sex (other times, optional).
And gloves and an acetylene torch face-mask while lighting matches.