Life of Bloody Bob, like, innit

"They should put a health warning on those," Roger said, pointing at the nicotine patches.
We were in the chemists, buying some cream for his problem.
"Health warning?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, " something like: Warning! Giving up smoking will turn you into a boring, sanctimonious, whingeing bastard who will alienate all of your friends, have no social life, be seriously sexually unattractive and will have given up a very enjoyable past-time in order to add a few poxy extra years on the end of your life (which will be spent dribbling, shitting yourself and being bickered over by that hateful, piss-stinking family of yours) and that's only if you're not hit by a fucking bus or something tomorrow."
"Will they fit all that on the packet?" I asked.
"Make bigger packets, obviously." he said.