Keeping The Status Blow

Sam Snort has been following with great interest recent developments in the debate on drugs.

Why only last issue in this very organ, Minister Eoin Ryan spoke at great length about soft drugs, hard drugs, gateway drugs and all that other good shit. Not that I actually read any of this stuff, obviously, but I’m assured by my crack team of ‘round-the-clock trained readers that the man in the suit treated of all this and more besides.

Which is actually a matter of sublime indifference to Samuel J. Snort Esq, of course, since the day that the world’s greatest rock journalist learns anything he doesn’t already know about brain stew from a government minister, is the day that the same Sam Snort announces that he’s found Jesus, embraced celibacy, become a vegan and voted for the Progressive Democrats.

No, what attracted Sam was the basic length of the thing, size being in this regard, as in all others, a matter of critical importance. So, carefully tearing out the pages and then bringing my renowned digital dexterity into play, I was able to fashion the Minister Eoin Ryan interview into a fantastic, foot-long, hubble bubble water pipe which I then crammed with grade-A skunkweed, torched and proceeded to suck on, deeply and at length.

As a result, my entire brain melted and poured out of my ears, wings sprouted up on my elbows and I was able to fly up to that point in the stratosphere where the strange music begins and never ends.

And there’s you thinking that a government Minister could have nothing to offer the professional drug wizard!

Frankly, Sam Snort would be of the view that he has more to offer than most, not least those who actively campaign for things like the compulsory provision of cannabis for everyone over the age of eight.

These fuckers really get my goat.

Stomach-churning scenes

For proof, I refer you to the recent Channel 4 series The War On Drugs. Here, ostensibly, was a sustained, passionate, eloquent argument in favour of the decriminalisation of cannabis made by people who regularly use the drug and are therefore, you would think, best placed to make the case for the defence.

And indeed you could go with their argument a long way – most of these people hold down jobs, have relationships, refrain from violence and generally carry on in a manner that poses no threat to man or beast.

Until, that is, the dope activates some primitive cell deep in the cerebellum – and then they proceed to go to hell in a handcart. Or, to be more precise, out come the didgeridoo and the flaming torch and off into the woods with them, ‘neath the pale moonlight, to juggle, blow, whistle, idiot dance and hug trees.

I’m sure I wasn’t the only law-wrecking citizen of this country who watched these stomach-churning scenes with an unfolding sense of horror.

Let’s be quite clear about this: the only justification for juggling torches and hopping around trees is that your name is Furg, you’re dressed in a furry loin-cloth, you carry a big wooden club and the year is 10,000 BC.

As for the didgeridoo; there is absolutely no excuse at any time for blowing into that fucker unless your name is Steve Cooney. And even then you wouldn’t want to overstay your welcome.

In short, even dotty Ann Widdecombe couldn’t have mounted a more convincing case against dope than the loonies in the forest. With these waterbrains in the frontline, the war for drugs is doomed.

Irritating little bastards

But that’s okay with Sam too. As a major field commander in the war for drugs, General Snort would be the first to acknowledge that there are bound to be casualties – and just so long as they are white, middle-class boys called Quentin with dreadlocks and body piercing, we need not waste any time worrying about them.

Indeed, the more of these irritating little bastards that are taken out in the crossfire, as it were, the better. Because that leaves the entire theatre of war open to those of us back in the neatly appointed tent, with our maps, our booze, our dope and an attentive military nurse called Wanda.

For the same reason, Sam Snort is completely opposed to the decriminalisation and/or legalisation of marijuana. I mean, if they make this stuff available on the high street, can you imagine what kind of generation of dingbats will be unleashed upon the world? One puff of the mildest California red and they’ll be roaming the streets playing terrible wind instruments and indulging in impromptu displays of mime.

Truly, this is an appalling vista. Which is why Samuel J. Snort argues for the status quo to be maintained. Dope is too serious for amateurs; the war for drugs must be left to the pros. Or even, more precisely, The Pro.

An’ ah thank the ladeez know jest who ahm a-talkin’ ‘bout.

Your ever lovin’ Samuel J Snort Esq