Ian Banks in his novel Complicity writes powerfully decrying smoking. Quoting from the novel.
I take out another cigarette, light it and draw deeply. I
gag again, coughing and hacking and feeling the whisky
and the can of Export I had earlier slosh around inside
me, almost coming up. My eyes are watering. What a stupid
drug, what a completely useless fucking drug; no real hit
after the first drag, highly addictive and lethal in all
sorts of ways, and even if the lung cancer or the heart
disease doesn't get you you can look forward to
gangrenous legs in your old age, bits of your body just
rotting away still attached and dying in instalments for
you, rotting and stinking while you're still alive and
then they have to cut them off and you wake up after the
operation wheezing and burning with pain and gasping for
a fag. Meanwhile the tobacco companies sponsor sport and
fight off advertising bans and look forward to all the
new markets in the East and the Far East and more women
taking up the weed to show that they can be brainless
fucks too, and suits with worm-shit in their brains go on
television and say, 'Well, nobody's actually proved how
tobacco causes cancer you know', and you sit there
seething and then you find Thatcher is taking half a
million from Philip Morris for a three-year find
consultancy and you swear never to buy any of their
products ever again but at the end of the day you still
light another cigarette and suck in the smoke like you
enjoyed it and make more profits for those evil fucks.
