A welcome find for some of our lower socio-economic smokers.
Computer issues have forced the preparation of this piece to a new location.
Well, that's not strictly true. My home computer has certainly decided enough is enough and withdrawn its services but, if I'm being honest, I have to say it wasn't to blame.
The fault lies with Mrs P who decided my desk and everything in its immediate vicinity needed a vigorous clean.
Unfortunately, that meant a significant volume of spray-on chemicals, radioactive water and a sponge with bubbles magically appearing when you squeeze it were ferociously applied to said area.
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I'm sure while this was happening I heard my old, trusty PC let out a deep groan — it's too old for a high-pitched scream.
The clincher was Mrs P turning the keyboard upside down and all the dust, toast crumbs, paper clips etc falling out. Poor PC. It must have felt its internal organs were being shaken out its backside.
Thus, our relationship has come to an end — mine and PC; not me and Mrs P — and I have been lucky enough to secure a temporary corner at my local newspaper office so I can keep working while I deal with my emotions.
Luckily my corner has a view so I can look out at the scenery and take my mind off things.
From here I can see right across the editorial floor, past the three-tier fountain in the foyer to the life-size marble statue of the editor outside his office. Nice. Not sure about the horses and the chariot, though.
Anyway ... just to my right I have a window looking out on to the carpark. Well, basically it looks out on to the back of a massive generator and the metre wide space between it and a solid concrete wall.
And it's in this space I've just spotted a bloke up to no good.
Luckily, he can't see me. The bosses at NZME have ensured the editor's statue is protected from harmful UV rays by tinting the glass or something so I can see this bloke but he can't see me.
Needless to say he got a bit of a fright and scarpered when I banged on the window.
Five minutes later another early riser has found his way to the back of the generator, so I'm up, out of my chair, and investigating.
He's picking through a swath of cigarette butts on the ground ... and he's just found one.
Now I'm all for personal choice and starting the day exactly how you want, but I deem this inappropriate, so I have decided to go out and have a word.
As I get outside I find the bloke trying to light the prized butt while having a verbal tug-of-war with a mate over who gets to smoke most of it.
Instantly, my mind goes back to a recent holiday in Kaikoura where, with the majestic mountains and blue skies providing a backdrop to the calmest of early morning seas, I watched two seagulls squabbling over a bag of chips.
The similarities bring a smile to my dial.
OK, maybe not that similar — I mean I'm looking at the small space at the back of a grey generator by a crumbling concrete wall rather than the majestic backdrop of the sea and mountains in the South Island, but the characters and the situation are exactly the same.
Seagulls arguing over a chip or two blokes arguing over a used cigarette butt.
I guess the main difference is I don't know if another bloke went and urinated over the bag of chips five minutes earlier.
■ Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to kevin.page@nzme.co.nz.