French Films

Oh Lord.

French films of the early eighties are high-class smoking p*rn. I just watched Diva, and of course the really cool guy successfully builds an enormous jigsaw that consists mainly of different shades of blue while smoking many Gauloises.

Blue smoke wreathes around the apartment that only contains a bath, a jigsaw, a phone and a kitchen. A girl roller-skates around it. Cool bloke sits on the floor smoking a Gauloise. In this bubble of film-time, you know that smoking isn't going to cause any harm, no cancer, no heart attacks, no diseases. Just a bloke and his fags, a girl on rollerskates, an enormous jigsaw.

It was so cool, that, of course, I wanted a fag for most of the film. Luckily, the subtitles kept deflecting the worst of craves. But they were there, in the background. The craves, not the subtitles.

Still, I keep on keeping on.

Two weeks, one day, 21 hours, 4 minutes and 16 seconds. 476 cigarettes not smoked, saving £130.99. Life saved: 1 day, 15 hours, 40 minutes.