I know...
...it's quite alright to melt children's minds with images of near skeletal middle-aged women with the waist span of a six year old boy and so much plastic surgery and botox they look like the Stepford Wives dipped in plastic. And feed them product placement for greasy burgers and promote a lust for tacky bling. And drugs. And explosions. And assorted dodgy gubbins, but a cancer stick hanging out of someone's mouth is akin to showing them an Al-Qaeda training manual.
Still it will bring an interesting dimension of Thought Police to Tolkien's work to see Bilbo ripping his nictotine replacement patch from his arm as he collapses after the Unexpected Party at bedtime...
