I looked at him aghast. 'I didn't think vicars smoked cigars! Have you got a spare?'
'Certainly. It's a little hobby of mine, collecting fine Cuban cigars. After all, what was good enough for Winnie, is good enough for me. My favourite is the Montecristo, but the Trinidad Esmeralda comes very close in my humble opinion. It all depends on your tastes whether it be sweet, nutty, leathery, tangy, citrusy, floral, honeyed, spicy, woody, fruity ...'
By this stage I was glazing over. I inexpertly lit the cigar, puffed in and out rapidly, inhaled deeply, and had a apoplectic coughing fit.
Parson Cross thumped me on the back, which only made matters worse.
'You're supposed to cut the end, Mr Revolting!' he said, rather aggrieved, 'and you NEVER inhale!'
I ground the nasty, smelly thing out in the dregs of my teacup.
'Well really!' spluttered the Parson, 'I mean to say ...