The Stage

Club duty

Published Monday 5 March 2007 at 14:55

With regard to the piece by Mark Ritchie (Insight, March 1, page 6), as a singer and guitarist, I work in hotels, clubs and pubs in Scotland. When the smoking ban came into force, it was based on the experiences in Ireland of regular pub and club-goers.

The decision to ban smoking in enclosed public spaces by the Scottish parliament was taken after much consultation involving all concerned. It would appear that a great many pub owners and clubs did not even have adequate ventilation or extraction systems in their premises, this is still the case in a lot of venues I perform in.

From the entertainment point of view, the high profile consequence of smoking was brought to light, as you know, by Roy Castle, but how many more performers lower down the scale had either to pack it in through ill health caused by working in smoke-filled venues, or sadly died as a result of this? We will never know.

From my perspective, I had to carry fans each time I did a show, in order to try to keep the smoke away from me. But each time I got home, my clothes, hair, etc, reeked. Even my PA, guitars and amps all had the same smell of tobacco. My vocal ability was also starting to suffer.

Now, it is a pleasure to go to a venue and know that my voice will last the night, and my clothes are not subjected to smells, other than my own, through hard work.

I am not against smokers, but I feel that venues have to do more for them in terms of where they can smoke, and still allow them to be entertained by us the acts, without having to go outside to light up. Recently, at one of my shows, I saw the same man and woman go out for a smoke at least 20 times in a two-hour show, and that was only two people. Not nice for any performer.

Habits will not change, no matter how high the government puts the price of ciggies up. I, personally, am fed up with hearing excuses, such as, “it’s the only pleasure I get,” etc. Cigarettes will kill you, fact.

On a more light-hearted note, last winter I had played one of my shows, and was packing the car. The weather was extremely cold and icy, and I was wearing gloves and a scarf. At midnight, when everyone was tucked up warm, the door to the hotel opened, and out came this old dear from Glasgow in only her nightdress, and promptly lit up. I remarked that she was likely to get hypothermia in this weather. “Oh, but I need my fag son,” she said. Need I say more?

Billy B

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