Cohiba Maduro 5 Genios Cigar 2016 (HLRC)

[thedame007]

So we come to it, the ugly child that I have kept locked away in the basement! Or if you prefer, the **** that just wouldn’t flush!

 

Disclaimer: I am afraid to admit it, that I purchased this cigar myself, and in the flesh. On the day of the purchase I had both of my eyes, and a functioning snout.

I would like to blame this ghastly horror on a friend who I no longer know, a brother I disinherited, or even a spurned lover who decided giving me crabs just wouldn’t cut it.

 

But no. This was all me.

 

HOWEVER I am British, which I am afraid has bequeathed me with that rather crippling quality of politeness in the face of both hostility and contempt.

I was minding my own business poking around the LCDH in Brussels a few years ago, when the owner approached me and personally handed me this cigar.

 

 

I feel the picture is very kind. It is rough looking stick. Not in the sense that it grew up in the wrong side of the tracks (Hell, it’s a cohiba, it has the best heritage it could have wanted!), rather you knew that this stick could double up as a vicious club to cave in the skull of any zombie lurking around the corner. Indeed, so parched was this stick, that as soon as I held it the moisture in my hands was greedily rapined.

 

The veins are bulbous, the wrapper pock marked, and the overall texture was abrasive enough to shave Hagrid’s bikini line.

 

The owner had that little glint in his eye as he passed me his loadstone, daring me to squeak a refusal, and to ungraciously turn down this physical embodiment of a F#[€ You.

 

So I wiped the spit out of my eyes, smiled and thanked him for his care, and added it to the boxes I was purchasing.

 

So here this insult has dwelt, nestled in one of my humidors, mocking and horrifying me every time I opened the lid. Numerous times I have buried it under my other smokes, but time and time again it has worked its way back to the top, to jump out at me whenever I brave a peep, chilling both my soul and my faith in humanity.

 

So today seems like the perfect day to kill this S.O.B!

 

 

ONLY THIRD

 

Within the first few puffs, I knew this one was called correctly. Sometimes a sad looking stick uplifts you, as it has the soul of a titan and the depth of the arcane. This was not one do those sticks. This was a vapid, cruel, monster. The flavour is what I would term as dry. Thirst inducing. An arid tundra bereft of any life.

It was like smoking a sore throat.

 

The burn was also shoddy, the flames themselves couldn’t face consuming it:

 

 

Well, after my tastebuds took their punishment, after 15 mins I called it a day and pitched the demon

 

 

Well thank you Rob, I feel lighter already, getting this bad karma out of my life! This was therapy at its greatest. Now, pass me so whiskey!

 

P. S. Yes. This holiday took place one month after the Brexit Vote.

 

 

 

Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[nKostyan]

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[rcarlson]

8 hours ago, thedame007 said:

It was like smoking a sore throat.

LOL.  

[99call]

8 hours ago, thedame007 said:

HOWEVER I am British, which I am afraid has bequeathed me with that rather crippling quality of politeness in the face of both hostility and contempt.

haha,   so so true.    "Sir,   what about this donkey shit sombrero?  I think it suits you splendidly......"              "Yes.......errr? thank you,  I'll take five"

[thedame007]

1 hour ago, 99call said:

haha,   so so true.    "Sir,   what about this donkey shit sombrero?  I think it suits you splendidly......"              "Yes.......errr? thank you,  I'll take five"

I mean god knows what these trade deals are going to look like...

This is also why the British suck at bartering! My toes curl at the very notion of it, never mind having to participate in the whole ordeal!