Now the ash has crashed north of the border due to the smoking ban, we're facing a greater risk to our well-being thanks to the toxic fumes emiting from the mouths of politicians who seem to think it's their business to make art imitate life as well.

Personally I don't object. After all, look at Ireland, where smirting (smoking/flirting) has become the national pastime. Love in a cold climate indeedy. And I'm sure decommissioned ashtrays have their uses - like candle holders, tapas dishes or handy weapons for instance.

But it's a fine hypocrisy when ciggies - and the addicts that make up a third of Scotland's population - are relegated to class C status. Funny, the last time I looked, Marlboro Lights were still on sale, even in pubs, presumably to sub the NHS, illegal wars and nuclear waste disposal in Caithness. No, my gripe here is that the ban brings yet another nail in the coffin for film and TV now that all representation of the evil weed is to be banned from our screens.

Apparently ITV has ordered smoke-free revisions on three scripts of the current 'Rebus' series, no doubt pissing off the writers and the originator, Ian Rankin. Likewise John Byrne, Scotland's most profilic roll-up smoker, is threatening to emigrate, bemoaning the fact that every one of his plays features fag action and no, I'm not talking about the cast's sexual preferences.

The Scottish Executive goes one further than their Irish counterparts. Actors, be they on stage or screen, aren't even allowed the use of those foul herbal substitutes you buy in health shops. This week a play, Nighthawks, opened at Glasgow's Oran Mor. Loosely based on the iconic Edward Hopper painting of the diner, it features the cast awkwardly fiddling with unlit fags for the entire duration. The Alan Carr Method of Acting? Where in Dublin an actor can still smoke the part, Scottish thesps are reduced to showing off their nicotine patches, presumably as evidence of their inner torture as they try to quit.

Bad law makes for madness, if not confusion. For instance, when is a private space not a private space? When you bring in a film crew it seems, because a film crew makes a private space - even your own living room - a place of work, meaning Health and Safety rules kick in. Even real-life exemptions, such as lighting up in the back of a police car or in jail won't be allowed on the screen. So while it's okay to show somebody shooting up in the pub toilets, getting stabbed in the groin or being gang-raped in the local swingpark, a quick puff's strictly out of bounds.

What I want to know is how will we tell who the bad guys are in movies anymore? Weren't they the ones pulling on their Embassy Illegals while explaining how they plan to torture the good guys? Are we looking at a future ban on Bette Davis movies? And worse, if governments have their way, what's next on the list? Representations of excessive biscuit munching? Gratuitous falling-down-drunk jokes? People not separating their rubbish properly? Superfluous body hair? At this rate, there won't be enough room on the poster or DVD cover to caution the unwary viewer of the sins of the filmmakers - I can just see it now - this film contains mild swearing, perilous car-parking and way too much Red Bull.