Well Gentlemen, what's it to be: a handful or a cigarette?

Sadly, it's only a photograph and there's no chance of a handful.
So how about settling for a cigarette instead?

This isnít sexist. I was a breast fed baby and my mother, at the time of my birth, was about the same age as the model in the picture. So, anyone who puts a picture like this under my nose is bound to invoke all kinds of deep, forgotten memories. Most of them are very pleasurable because babyhood is a time of joy. You get fed when you want and cuddled and cooed at whenever you feel slightly uncomfortable. People keep smiling at you and telling you youíre beautiful and terrific and, naturally, you can do no wrong. Heck! You can even poo when you want and nobody will say a bad word to you.
           But alas, babyhood doesnít last forever and when you start growing there are sometimes frowns, harsh words for this, scoldings for that and occasionally, a sharp and very painful smack for inadvertently doing something your parents didnít approve of. Believe me, compared to the joys of babyhood, growing up is a time of rude awakening. But somewhere deep inside, the memories remain.

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