Under No Illusion

I met Mick having a fag in the doorway of the General Elliot on Vicar Lane in Leeds. He's a dying breed, I hope (if you know what I mean). He was strangely keen to show me the warning on the packet, under no illusions as to the damage he was doing to himself. Can't say that I've looked at a pack of cigarettes in a very long while. I hadn't realised how stark the messaging was. No bad thing.