Not Mea Culpa!
"THE Supreme Court has cleared the way for an 80-year-old lifetime smoker to sue two tobacco companies for damages.
Margaret Delahunty, who began smoking when she was 12 years old - at one stage smoking up to 30 cigarettes a day - is suing two of the country's leading tobacco manufacturers for personal injuries allegedly caused by the cigarettes she has smoked.
The octogenarian from Ballinahowen, Furbo, Co Galway, who was diagnosed with cancer ten years ago, can now continue with her action for damages following yesterday's key judgment by the court."
Oh my, I read this one with something akin to tittering. But then I got irritated, and finally - it takes a while to care on one coffee - I got annoyed.
This woman has made it to eighty years of age, despite having puffed fags her whole life, she has had cancer for ten years and yet is still going strong, she has lived a full life.
And yet here it is, the blame game, the shirking, the finger pointing, the absolute certainty people seem to have that their every action can be blamed on someone or something else.
'Not my fault, do you see, it/they made me do it.'
I don't buy it.
Did the big bad tobacco company come along, drag Margaret Delahunty down a lane when she was a kid and force a fag into her mouth? Was it there every morning when Margaret had her cup tea, waving the fags at her, demanding she light one up? Did it go with her to the pub and insist she have one with her G&T or sherry or whatever she drank?
Of course not.
It is no secret that tobacco is harmful, it's on the bloody packets for a start. So if you choose to smoke then by all means smoke away, enjoy them make that face smokers make when they light a cigarette up after a heavy meal. Puff away to your heart's contentment. It is you choice. Like that word? Choice? Keep saying it with me, choice.
Oh people will say, 'But we didn't know back then.'
To which I must say. 'So what? You've know since the seventies haven't you? Fags bad, might cause cancer?'
I started smoking when I was fourteen, I quit when I was thirty. I decided both actions. Me, Fatmammycat, me.
I lit my first cigarette, I inhaled, I coughed and spluttered, I persevered until I mastered smoking with sufficient cool.
I stopped pretty much the same way. I closed the pack-with five or six cigarettes left in it, left the pack on the landing, ignored it, ate mints, grouched around for a few days and then, voila, I didn't smoke anymore. Too cool for school baby.
Margaret Dealhunty could have quit anytime she wanted. She didn't. She kept smoking her whole life and has still racked up eighty years of living.
Man I hope I live that long not smoking and drinking copious amounts of white wine. Now, who can I sue for my addiction to expensive shoes. Because clearly it is not my fault, is it?