Snuff Tobacco story, is a joke that’s posted on several websites, so it’s difficult to attribute the snuff story to any one site. I do however like the entry on The Shooter’s Pub website, who claim the snuff tobacco joke is originally theirs - who am I to argue..?!

What needs to be accepted when reading this snuff joke / story, is that in times past, very often pubs would leave snuff out on the bar for customers to use. This practice has long since gone out of fashion - probably due to legal reasons. Anyhow, below is the snuff joke - visit The Shooter’s Pub for more.

One fine summer’s evening, the landlord, George, was pottering about getting ready to open up, when he noticed that the snuff box was empty. He went to fill it from his stock cupboard, and remembered that he’d run out the week before and forgotten to re-stock. Just another tribulation in the life of a landlord. He knew what this would lead to: shouts of “Idle Bastard” from the regulars, even the ones that didn’t take snuff. The fact that generations of regulars from 1660 to the present day called the landlord an idle bastard was no consolation. Wearily, he dragged out his old broom to sweep the outside of the pub, something he hadn’t had time to do for weeks.

While sweeping outside, the broom knocked against a dried-up dog turd, which crumbled on impact. He had a brilliant idea. It would be a quiet night, probably no snuff takers, the pot only had to look full. He took the turd inside, ground it up, and filled the snuff box.

Sod’s Law decreed that the first customer was Harry – an habitual snuff taker. “Pint please, George,” he shouted, and took a pinch of snuff. George put the pint in front of Harry, waiting for the explosion. “Bloody Hell,” says Harry, “has thee had a dog in here? There’s a bloody strong smell of dog shit.” He checked his boots and looked around him. George denied there was any smell of course, and Harry eventually started supping his pint.

Next in was Arthur. “Evening Harry, pint please George”, and helped himself to a pinch of snuff. “By ‘eck, there’s a strong smell of dog shit around here.” “Aye,” said Harry, “Aa thowt that.” So they both started checking out the well-scrubbed stone floor. While they were at it, old Tom wandered in. “What’s occurring here?” he asked. The lads told him the score and the three of them carried on looking, although Tom kept telling them he couldn’t smell owt odd.

Eventually they gave up the search. Tom asked George for a pint and took a pinch of snuff, “Hell fire,” he cried, “yon’s bloody good snuff George, I can fair smell that dog shit now!”

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A Pinch Of Snuff

Oh Snuff! our fashionable end and aim!
Strasburgh, Rappee, Dutch, Scotch! whate’er thy name!
Powder celestial! quintessence divine!
New joys entrance my soul, while thou art mine.
Who takes - who takes thee not? Where’er I range
I smell thy sweets from Pall Mall to the ‘Change.
By thee assisted, Ladies kill the day,
And breathe their scandal freely o’er their tea:
Nor less they prize thy virtues when in bed,
One pinch of thee revives the vapour’d head,
Removes the spleen, removes the qualmish fit,
And gives a brisker turn to female wit,
Warms in the nose, refreshes like the breeze,
Glows in the head, and tickles in the sneeze.
Without it, Tinsel, what would be thy lot?
What, but to strut neglected, and forgot.
What boots it for thee to have dipt thy hands.
In odours wafted from Arabian lands?
Ah! what avails thy scented solitaire,
Thy careless swing, and pertly-tripping air,
The crimson wash, that glows upon they face,
Thy modish hat, and coat that flames with lace!
In vain thy dress, in vain thy trimmings shine,
If the Parisian snuff-box be not thine.
Come to my nose, then, Snuff, nor come alone,
Bring Taste with thee, for taste is all thy own.

A Pinch Of Snuff - A poem published in Smoke Rings & Roundelays by Wilfred Partington.

A Pinch of Snuff was originally published in a book titled The Shrubs of Parnassus in 1760, written by J. Copywell, which was a pseudonym of William Woty.

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Snuff legend and lore brings us a dastardly tale of Jesuits’ Snuff…

Jesuits’ Snuff

Scented snuffs were sometimes made to conceal poison.

In 1712, the Duc de Noailles presented the Dauphiness of France with a box of Spanish snuff, a luxury in which she delighted. It was charged with poison, which she inhaled; and five days after receiving the gift she died, complaining of sharp pain in the temples.

This excited much attention, and great fear prevailed of “accepting a pinch” on the one hand and offering it on the other. It became a general belief that such poisoned snuff was used in Spain, and by Spanish emissaries, to clear away political opponents, and that the Jesuits also adopted it for the purpose of secretly poisoning their enemies.

Hence it was termed “Jesuits’ Snuff”, and a great dread of it was felt for a considerable time.

Another instance of the fatal use of snuff is to be found in an anecdote of the Duc de Bourbon, grandson of the great Conde.

He took Santeuil the poet to a great entertainment, compelled him to drink a large quantity of champagne, and ultimately poured his snuff-box, filled with Spanish snuff into the poet’s wine.

This produced a violent fever, of which Santeuil died, amid excruciating agonies, within fourteen hours.

The above account of Jesuits’ Snuff has been taken from Tobacco Talk & Smokers’ Gossip.

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