Back when smoking wasn’t yet a bad word (at least, it wasn’t if you were over 18), a packet of 20 Benson and Hedges cost an almost amusing 95 sen. With RM1.00 in your pocket, you could get yourself a packet smokes and a box of matches to light-up with. It wasn’t very hard to keep me amused and thoroughly chuffed in those days; all it would take was RM1.00. But of course, the year was 1977; I was only 15 and had not yet fully discovered the other pleasures life had in store for me.
Getting the cigarettes was easy enough. The hard part was ‘smuggling’ the contraband back into MRSM without getting caught. The favoured method of concealment was stuffing the cigarettes down our Y-fronts (boxers hadn’t yet come back in vogue in 1977). This was quite a simple enough procedure for almost everyone. But the ‘down-your-underpants’ method of concealment posed two substantial obstacles for me. First, I have always detested wearing any kind of underwear, for any reason (always have and always will). Secondly, this aversion to wearing underwear meant that my cigarettes would have to go down someone else’s underpants.
I reasoned, however, that even if this was conceptually unhygienic (to say the least), it was NOT technically so – after all, the pack of cigarette came wrapped in plastic, right? All my friend had to do was to wipe my packet of cigarettes clean before he handed them back to me once we were back at the hostel. Further, if we ever got caught (which thankfully never happened), it would be my friend who would be going down for the crime. And if he ratted on me, I’d categorically deny any involvement in the deed until there was everlasting peace in the Middle East.
Besides, with two packets of Benson and Hedges stuffed down the front of his underpants, he would look quite well-endowed and as if he been singularly blessed with an impressively sustainable hard-on. Why on earth should he be complaining? The fact that his ‘bulge’ would draw an inordinate amount of attention if there was a ‘spot-check’ at the school gate (and proportionately increase his chances of getting caught) was another matter altogether.
In retrospect (now some 30 years later), I have re-evaluated the ‘down-your-underpants’ method of concealment and found it to be quite lacking. After all, the contraband could just as easily be found if it were down your Y-fronts as it would be if you had stuffed it into your pants pockets, right? But somehow, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. It just felt ‘safe’, although I’m not quite sure if you could actually use the word ‘safe’ in this context; the last time I looked, cigarette packets came with eight very sharp corners.
Be that as it may, now that my cigarettes do not have to go down someone else’s underpants, they do somehow taste a lot better. And by the way, if your husband (Sugar Daddy, boyfriend or whatever) has got the words ‘Benson and Hedges’ permanently imprinted on his penis, please tell him I said “Hi!”.
I think he’ll remember me.