In the dimly lit confines of a Bristol snooker club basement during the late 1990s, I found myself as a young student, drawn into an unexpected situation. A friend, slightly inebriated, tugged me into the less-than-clean bathroom stall.

I wondered if she needed to borrow some eyeliner or share a juicy piece of gossip. Instead, she revealed a small bag of white powder, clumsily sprinkling it over the closed toilet seat—a surface that hadn’t seen a disinfectant wipe in ages.

Handing me a rolled-up £10 note, she suggested I use it to partake. Holding the makeshift straw, I pondered the situation, the Queen’s eye on the note peering back at me. Should I try it?

Cocaine was often associated with indulgence and thrill. Could a glamorous lifestyle, akin to The Great Gatsby, start with a simple line in this dingy restroom?

But as I took in the scene—the graffiti-covered walls, the grime, and my friend enthusiastically snorting like a vacuum—I couldn’t help but think of the film Trainspotting and its iconic line: “Choose life.”

With that thought, I politely declined and returned to the bar, leaving the moment behind.

It’s a decision I have never regretted. During my 20s I observed much cocaine use: friends sniggering as they headed to the nightclub loo in a pack; the furtive whispering at parties that meant the dealer was on his way.

On one uncomfortable occasion a flatmate I barely knew did lines next to me on the sofa as we watched the TV series 24. Surely watching Kiefer Sutherland run around with a gun was excitement enough?

During my 20s I observed much cocaine use: friends sniggering as they headed to the nightclub loo in a pack; the furtive whispering at parties that meant the dealer was on his way

While it always seemed pretty pathetic – all that unnatural, relentless chattiness – it was somehow excusable on the grounds that they were young and didn’t know much better.

But the surprising thing these days is how middle-aged, middle-class and mainstream cocaine use has become. 

Data from the Office of National Statistics suggests the middle classes are driving the demand for the drug, with four per cent of people with household incomes of more than £52,000 taking a Class A drug in the past year. (Those on lower salaries are more likely to consume Class B and C drugs, such as ketamine and cannabis.)

This was only further confirmed this week when The Economist – reading material of university professors and City financiers – declared that cocaine should be legalised to ‘eliminate the price premium that motivates the world’s most violent criminals’.

The new leader of the Green Party, Zack Polanski, agrees. His party wants cocaine to be sold legally. Such a move could lead to us seeing drug baggies next to ciggies behind the supermarket counter, millions merrily snorting away in some kind of crime-free, guilt-free, live-and-let-live nirvana.

The push for legalisation will no doubt be welcomed by all those affluent users who dial up drugs as nonchalantly as a Deliveroo. 

At dinner parties in west London, at mums’ wine nights in the shires, at weddings in the Cotswolds, those who should know better are continuing to enjoy their Peruvian delights well into their 50s and 60s. 

It’s become as acceptable as having a glass of Sauvignon blanc – an activity so normal that one mother joked with me recently about her weekend ‘toot’ being key to maintaining her sanity.

The new leader of the Green Party, Zack Polanski, wants cocaine to be sold legally

But cocaine use should come with a mighty dollop of shame – and doubly so for all those middle-class users who, by day, signal how socially responsible they are.

The same people who would not be seen dead using a single-use carrier bag are perpetuating an industry which literally enslaves children and sees teenagers knifed to death because they have stepped into another gang’s territory. 

The same people who proudly buy Fairtrade coffee and tea to support those in developing countries are supporting an industry which sees poor people around the world tortured, raped and murdered at the whim of bloodthirsty cartels.

The hypocrisy is staggering. The trail of blood leads directly from South America to the suburban door, where that ‘friendly’ local dealer is dropping off a bit of gak to liven up the last hour of the evening. 

This is an industry which right now, at home, causes teen stabbings, shootings and sexual abuse. While abroad it causes, unprintably sadistic crimes in the name of profit. And all because of the demand from 40 and 50-something professionals who like a cheeky bit of Charlie to let off steam at the weekend.

Most can’t be blind to this misery or the part they’re playing in it. So, to retain the moral high ground, they blame lawmakers for failing to get with the programme and legalise it. It’s not their fault that they’re enriching a vile trade, it’s the Government, ok?

The pro-legalisation brigade argue that we could stop drug-associated misery by ending the criminality around it. Take the power away from the drug dealers, let the Government regulate and tax drugs as they do cigarettes and alcohol. 

It sounds so simple – until you look at countries around the world where they have legalised or decriminalised.

Take Portugal, where they decriminalised most drugs a quarter of a century ago. A recent report from the (normally rather liberal) Washington Post described Lisbon thus: ‘Addiction haunts the recesses of this ancient port city, as people with gaunt, clumsy hands lift crack pipes to lips, syringes to veins…’

Take Amsterdam, that supposed liberal haven where in fact the locals got so fed up with gormless weed zombies roaming the streets that the authorities banned the smoking of cannabis in and around the famous red light district.

Or go to parts of the USA such as San Francisco or Portland, Oregon, where liberal laws have led to increased drug use, more overdoses and surging rates of violent crime and theft. 

In the first year after Oregon decriminalised most drug use, opioid deaths in the state jumped by almost 30 per cent. Cocaine is the most addictive substance there is. Legalising it would be a disaster – a guarantee that more people will get sucked into using it and more lives will be destroyed. 

Would the gangs making millions out of this simply give up and become florists or postmen? Or would they work out new ways to produce cheaper and harder drugs to lure the punters?

Instead of legalising cocaine we should be going in the opposite direction – campaigning to stigmatise and provoke those who drive this trade. Instead of being some guilt-free treat to enjoy after the cheese board at their candlelit dinner parties, middle class users must be in no doubt they are sponsoring violence, destruction and misery. Shame on them.

You’ll regret potty scene, Molly

Influencer Molly-Mae Hague’s new documentary features scenes of her struggling with her two-year-old daughter Bambi who refuses to sit on the potty. 

I get that MM wants to be ‘relatable’ and to show the unfiltered truth about motherhood, but I fear she might regret putting out this much information about her toddler. 

How’s 25-year-old Bambi going to feel about footage of her bath time being on the internet for ever? 

Green-fingered purists will be up in arms at the surging popularity of fake plants for lazy gardeners. 

I confess I’ve been perusing the rubbery shrubbery myself. Yes, the bees won’t like it, but without my fakery my garden just looks like a place where things come to die. Forgive me, Monty Don! 

Let’s give the York sisters a break…

While the alleged behaviour of Prince Andrew and Fergie is appalling, can we give Beatrice and Eugenie a break? 

There is talk of them, too, being frozen out of Royal appearances. But why? 

They seem like decent and blameless young women. In this newspaper, Prince Andrew’s biographer Andrew Lownie reported that they have both had counselling to deal with their parents’ various misdemeanours. 

Surely they’ve been through enough? The Bible tells us ‘The son shall not bear the sins of the father’. The same should go for daughters. 

Farewell Pizza Hut heaven

The decline of some brands hits harder than others – and learning that dozens of Pizza Huts are to close was a sad one for me, conjuring nostalgic memories of all-you-can-eat Margheritas and bowls overflowing from the ice cream machine. 

For a child it was an experience close to heaven. Farewell, cheese-stuffed crust palace of dreams.