The death has been announced of Howard Marks, who in his lifetime morphed from large-scale cannabis smuggler into counter-cultural celebrity lionised as Mr Nice by left-liberals everywhere. James Brown of Loaded magazine describes Marks as a "true modern-day folk hero", who "stood for everything we loved" and "is a bloody great example to us all".
Marks himself described his career in no less glowing terms:-
"Smuggling cannabis was a wonderful way of living - perpetual culture shock, absurd amounts of money, and the comforting knowledge of getting so many people stoned."
My perspective on Mr Nice is somewhat different. I know, I know, de mortuis nil nisi bonum and and all that jizz. But I speak as one of the so many people he got stoned. I was introduced to cannabis at the age of 15, at around the time Marks was consorting with such beacons of moral excellence as Pablo Escobar and the IRA. I subsequently spent a quarter of a century as a wake 'n' bake stoner, from when my weed habit became entrenched in my early 20's, until I eventually managed to kick my addiction - yes, hippies, addiction - two and a half years ago.
So, in my estimation, Mr Nice was actually rather unpleasant, an opinion corroborated when I came across this account by his former wife of the destruction wrought by this preening narcissist on his own children:-
Mr Nice went through life sublimely untroubled by the wreckage he left behind him, succumbing eventually to cancer of the colon. I consider it fitting to commemorate his passing with a short story. "Mr Nice's Bottom" is just waiting to be written.
So long, Mr Nice, and thanks for all the memories. Cunt.
Monday, 11 April 2016
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