So there I am hiding myself away in this nursing home while whoever the manufacturer is decides to get his act together and get this Acomplia on the market. It’s frustrating. Here I am — been close to death twice now — and I need this Acomplia to pull me round. The way that doctor was talking, I pop an Acomplia or three and it’s the job done. Shame someone doesn’t know someone on the inside as can slip us a bottle or two on the quiet.

While I’m waiting, that district nurse keeps calling round. She seems to think I owe her for saving my life. Like who was it who opened the door? Cheeky thing! Anyway, she says she’s lumbered with me so I’d better start taking her seriously or else she won’t save me next time round.

Until this Acomplia comes, she’s topping me up with nicotine gum. We started off with the patches but I didn’t go for them. I find it better if I have something to do with my mouth. Looking at her I can think of things to do but we won’t go into that — or, at least, that’s what she would say.

She says, “Acomplia” like she’s spitting on the floor. She reckons the trick to giving up smoking is to change the way I do things. If I usually smoke in a particular place, I should stop going there. Right. So like I should suddenly stop going into the pub that feeds me and is like the zoo for all my friends to come visit me.

I’ve told her straight that there’s no way I’m going to start learning how to cook at my time of life. It’s Acomplia or nothing. That pub has fed me for nigh on twenty years which tells you something about how much of a traveller I am. It’s home to work to pub and home again for sleep. She looked a bit fierce but hasn’t said any more about it since.

But she’s really not hot on this Acomplia like the doctor. From what she’s read, it messes with your head so that you feel less hungry. That means it’s not like some magic bullet that’s going to change what I eat. I still have to do all the heavy lifting myself. And she’s not so sure how a “diet pill” is supposed to stop me from smoking. Acomplia can’t blow out the match as I try to light up. So, however it’s supposed to work, I’m still going to be the one to say “no” when someone offers me a cigarette.

She says it’s easy for a doctor to talk. He doesn’t smoke and has a wife (and probably a bit on the side) who’ll do for him. So he can just say, “Acomplia” like it’s the next best thing after the invention of sliced bread and we’ll all fall down and worship it. In the real world, I’m the one who has to eat healthy and stop smoking. Looking at me, she isn’t inspired with confidence. She’s given me the card for the funeral director down at the Co-op. Says I should start planning for the big day now.

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