Parents in Rochdale are panicking this week after discovering that children can legally get hold of a new nicotine product that looks like Haribo, tastes like bubblegum, and hits harder than a missed mortgage payment.
Nicotine pouches, charmingly marketed like a cross between chewing gum and chemical warfare, are currently being handed out for free at train stations, shopping centres and festivals, which also happen to be the three places most teenagers go to escape adult supervision and buy £12 hoodies.
Despite containing enough nicotine to floor a small rhino, the pouches are not currently subject to age restrictions, meaning anyone with lips and a postcode can order a free sample online, delivered right to their door, next to their Deliveroo and GCSE revision booklet.
Rochdale Council’s Deputy Leader, Councillor Daalat Ali, said the situation is “scary,” a word usually reserved for tax bills and the M62. “These are not sweets,” he added, “which is a sentence we never thought we’d have to say about something that comes in strawberry flavour and looks like a Tic Tac.”
Experts warn that some of these pouches are so strong, they’ve caused children to faint, which used to only happen during school assemblies or after looking directly at a PE teacher’s shorts. Addiction is also a growing concern, with many young users developing physical and psychological dependency, or as it’s known locally, “starting early.”
While the government has promised new legislation to make the pouches harder to get hold of, the laws are not yet in place, meaning Rochdale kids remain free to order their own personal nicotine grenades, as long as they don’t try to buy a scratchcard or energy drink at the same time.
The pouches are placed between the lips and gums, where they slowly release nicotine directly into the bloodstream, bypassing the lungs, but not the complete disapproval of every parent in a five-mile radius.
Rochdale school nurses are now bracing for a wave of referrals, and parents are being urged to talk to their children about the risks, ideally before little Liam starts fainting during Maths and blaming “the sherbet.”
Reporting from down the M62, we can confirm that in a nation of vape clouds and loopholes, Rochdale’s kids are now at risk of getting high on something that looks like chewing gum, smells like watermelon, and might just outpace their GCSE results in terms of long-term impact.
