I’ve never understood the allure of smoking in bed. You get ashes all over the place. But I’ve also never understood how people set the bed on fire by smoking in bed, because I have never – and I do mean never – fallen asleep without my own consent. Usually you know when sleep is imminent. You can’t focus anymore. Your eyes are leaden. That’s when you put down the magazine and turn off the light. But apparently there are those careless citizens who put down the magazine, turn off the light, and curl up in a ball with a lit Camel still held between two fingers. Was ever a nation defeated by careless preoccupied smoking?

Aside from France, I mean.