For all the familiar family reasons, I smoke outside, in the back garden; there is nothing much to see out there, particularly at night, so I frequently find myself staring up at the stars. These are some of the questions I ask myself during my smoking excursions: Why are we here? Is there really someone Up There? What am I doing with my life? Would a single currency result in a loss of national identity, and would a loss of national identity result in a loss of personal identity? And so on.

Compare and contrast these questions with the questions I ask myself when I am indoors, not smoking: What time does NYPD Blue start? When’s the guy from Perfect Pizza going to get here with my Ham and Pineapple? What’s that stain on the carpet? Smoking, in short, induces profundity (every