In the bowl of my meeshaum sits a plug of Fusileer Empire Agony Shag, burning steadily with an aromatic, heady tranquility. In the opposite corner of the drawing room is an exasperated Mrs O, noisily gagging and repeatedly thrusting open the french windows complaining bitterly about her inability to breathe. I suspect that this is more to do with the fact that my pipe has set fire to the carpet, than the aroma of the Fusileer.