MATCHING THE NASTY

One of the pipes I smoked today was a W.Ø. Larsen. Of which brand I own two. I am not much into Scandinavian excess, so very few of my pipes qualify as eccentric. These two are not too eye-catchingly shaped, though very nice, and hence do not advertise any personal insufficiencies. But W.Ø. Larsen as such no longer exists. The brand is virtually extinct. I was swilling cup after cup of oolong tea all morning, so a certain extroversion, nay manifested pecularity, was almost required with so much caffeine coursing through my veins.
You should rejoice that I have no perverted tendencies.
That would have come out.


I've long felt that Danish freehands should be smoked by weirdoes with piercings or tattoos wearing ethnic fabrics from the tropics, who favour mango peach raspberry hazelnut cavendishes that leave a sticky residue. No, that's not what was in my pipe.
Instead, a conservative Virginia Periqe concoction.

One thing I may smoke this weekend, seeing as Saint Patrick's Day almost begs for repulsive behaviour and vulgarity, is a suitable tobacco blend.

Either Sutliff's 'Slane' or Erinmore Flake. Don't know which yet.
All depends on how much of sicko I feel like being.

It will, quite likely, be in a Dunhill Pipe.
Alfred Dunhill was a frightful bigot.
So it would be appropriate.




Actually, both Hill Of Slane (Sutliff) and Erinmore Flake (formerly Murray Sons & Co.Ltd, now Scandinavian) are fairly nice tobaccos. Weird top dressings, but if smoked properly (meaning very slowly) they will not ghost the pipe or make you lose your lunch.
That's a fulsome recommendation.




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