When I was 15 my mother implored me to give up the habit, even writing in a letter, “If you knew how foolish & how silly you look doing it you would give it up, at least for a few years.” She didn’t just rely on rhetoric, though; she turned to every parent’s favourite weapon, bribery. If I would give up smoking for six months, she’d get me a gun and a pony. I agreed to this deal.

Eventually, I went back to smoking the large cigars that are now named in my honour. Although many of the cigars I smoked were specially made just for me and weren’t branded, I did occasionally puff on the commercial stuff. My favourites were Cuban Romeo y Julietas and Camachos. My other well-known vices were Johnny Walker Red scotch and vintage Hine brandy.