At a West London dinner party last weekend, a friend rolled up a joint. “Is it skunk?” I asked. It was, so I politely declined as the spliff circulated around the other guests.

The reason? Skunk is now no longer my vice of choice.

I smoke around six joints of regular cannabis every week, mostly at the weekends. What I like about smoking hash or weed is that it keeps me calm and gives me a more amusing outlook on life. With skunk, it’s a completely different story. Just three drags on a skunk joint will induce paranoia on a massive scale.

I’m not talking about the difference between a beer and a vodka shot. I’m talking about being unable to get out of bed in the morning because you feel paralysed, about being incapable of holding a conversation. I would like to think I’m a pretty lucid guy, but after smoking skunk I find myself struggling to string a sentence together. In the skunk haze of my student days, I would sometimes find myself unable to leave the house at all. It’s like a mild form of dementia.

Once, a friend passed me a skunk joint before going to a birthday party. After just a few drags, I went into a room full of people, barely able to talk. I headed straight for the bar and drank as much alcohol as possible to counteract the effects. It helped, but using one vice to neutralise another is not exactly ideal.

I’ve been in a bar in Soho and had to leave because I was convinced someone was about to beat me up. Having spoken to friends who were also there, I now know for a fact there was no such violent bully lurking beyond the bar, even less so one who was coming for me. And yet, at the time, I genuinely thought I was a marked man.

Smoking cannabis is much, well, straighter. Some scientists might say that I suffer from mild paranoia as a result, but it is not something of which I’m aware.

Yes, skunk renders you incapable, incoherent and convinced the world is out to get you. And the unbearable grogginess the next day can rival any hangover from hell. I find myself being incredibly impatient, moody, snappy and, essentially, selfish.

So if ever anyone offers me a joint, “Is it skunk?” is always the first question I ask.

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