I am a smoker. I can never be sure of the reaction I will get to those words nowadays, though I have hope that Spectator readers are more receptive than most. Anyway, in my case it’s somewhat of an understatement: I worship the goddess Nicotiana. Or, as J. M. Barrie put it: “My Lady Nicotine”. Compton Mackenzie had it, simply, as “Sublime Tobacco”. And for any vegetarians among you, there’s always Frank Zappa’s “my favorite vegetable”.
I enjoy many forms of tobacco consumption, but having recently read Thomas Sydenham’s description of a tobacco smoke enema, I am convinced that not all methods are created equal. Cigars? Enjoyable, but exorbitantly expensive. Cigarettes? With one in hand at the moment, I can’t deny they have their place. Snuff? Indisputably messy. But the true King, divinely appointed, is the pipe. So, to pay homage, I made my annual pilgrimage to the UK Pipe Show, held in Nottingham at the weekend.
The show is held in a pub called the Canalhouse. Rather strikingly, and somehow in keeping with a pipe show, there is a narrowboat moored inside the pub. You have to cross a bridge over it to get to the bar for beer and whiskey galore.
Upstairs, there are a number of stalls offering a panoply of pipes. It’s amazing that the craft of pipe-making even survives in the 21st century, but it is thriving. Many of you may picture a “standard” shape: black stem and brown briar bowl in the “billiard” shape. Here, black stems barely get a look in. There are marbled stems, camouflage stems, pinstripe stems, stems in any color you can think of. Bowls come in all shapes and sizes, with a very large snail shell-shape drawing the eye. But I am expressly forbidden from buying anything.
The real reason we’re all there – to smoke – takes place in the beer garden, beneath a large glass canopy. This isn’t only a few old men clustered round the door: the age range and gender divide might surprise you. Well, okay, maybe not the gender divide. But the age range skews much younger than you might expect and, as with any religious festival, there are specific vestments: in this case beards, flat caps and tattoos abound.
It certainly seems that young men are taking up the pipe. In 2023 it is thought that nearly 800,000 people smoked a “non-cigarette” tobacco product exclusively; up from around 150,000 a decade before. Take it with a mountain of salt: self-reported studies are notoriously unreliable. Anyway, the non-cigarette category includes cigars and shisha, so the proliferation of shisha bars and Loadsamoney cigar bros probably make up the majority of the increase.
Like so many remnants of our culture, pipe smoking is threatened
Bizarrely, the Robin Hood half marathon had just taken place and many runners were also trying to refresh themselves at the Canalhouse, but the holy smoke drifted over all. Reactions varied dramatically: some stare, some cough (performatively or otherwise), but most reactions are positive. “My grandad smoked a pipe!” is a frequent refrain.
And though many here are young, grandfathers are present too. I had a fascinating conversation with Eric, an ex-military man, ranging from pipes to politics, tobacco to Britain’s military preparedness (or lack thereof). The quality of conversation was explained when Eric revealed that he was a Spectator reader. True eccentrics are present too. A man in a military redcoat and leather cowboy hat, there all day, smoked a cigarette right down to the filter in one go – unequivocally, a sight to behold.
What draws these disparate characters here? Pipes, of course, but also camaraderie, connection to the past, and maybe a dash of counterculture. I don’t think it is empty nostalgia: that wouldn’t explain the quirky modern pipes. There is also the draw of many pounds of fantastic tobacco. This is my reason for coming, to share some rare and unusual tins from my “cellar” with a good friend. But he trumped me: he produced a cutter-top tin of Bell’s Three Nuns. This is the Virginia and Perique blend smoked by C. S. Lewis and Alfred Wainwright. Virginia blends age best, and this tin must have been over 80 years old (think pre-embargo cigar). An audible hiss as he punched through the top: it had remained sealed. A “coin cut” tobacco, the discs looked as good as if tinned yesterday, still moist and glittering with sugar crystals. Nicotiana blessed us with transcendent smoke.
Like so many remnants of our culture, pipe smoking is threatened. There could have been no show this year had the Toolmaker’s Son banned smoking in beer gardens. As it is, the generational smoking ban means the influx of younger people will cease. But my experience at the show has been a good one. Young hipsters, maybe, but sincerely trying to discover the hobbies of their antecedents. Older eccentrics, definitely, but most kind and charming. Talented craftsmen, making something only sought after by a few, facing ever-rising costs. I may call it a religion with tongue very firmly in cheek (avoiding the pipe stem), but think of these people brought together in common cause, with ever-more young people desperately seeking a connection to previous generations. There’s no lanyardism, weathervane politics, or prizes for Islamists at the UK Pipe Show.
Other religions, take note. Is it possible there was a higher proportion of young people at the UK Pipe Show than at your local church on Sunday?
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