Take a deep breath: it's time for the cannabis questions.

DoubleTake:  Is there an international agreement among politicians that admitting to trying marijuana in their youth makes them…

DoubleTake: Is there an international agreement among politicians that admitting to trying marijuana in their youth makes them wild and crazy guys? writes Ann Marie Hourihane

Smoking marijuana is a bit like fishing - a solitary pleasure that doesn't bear too much discussion, unless you're talking to fellow enthusiasts. Presumably the scenery is somewhat better in fishing; but then, with marijuana you think the scenery's better, which seems to be the main thing. Either that or you think the scenery is funny. In any event, marijuana experiences rarely contain the ingredients of a ripping yarn.

But marijuana, rather strangely, has become a social signifier in, of all things, politics. There seems to be some sort of international agreement among politicians that admitting to having tried marijuana in their distant youth somehow makes them wild and crazy guys. Marijuana is the cultural cement that binds a generation of politicians together, from David Cameron (born October 1966) and Barack Obama (born August 1961) right back to Bill Clinton (born August 1946) and Gerry Adams (born October 1948.) Of these, only one - Gerry Adams, obviously - did not use marijuana in their youth. In fact, I remember a robust Provisional IRA policy operating in west Belfast in the late 1970s, under which marijuana users were threatened with having their kneecaps blown off. This was long before Nancy Reagan came up with her much less effective Just Say No campaign.

Even though marijuana is so boring, questions about it have become a rite of passage for any aspiring political leader. The ability to negotiate the dope question has to be demonstrated. Bill Clinton's ridiculous assertion that he didn't inhale presaged his ridiculous responses to Kenneth Starr years later. Clinton had his own version of the truth from the start.

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Lately there have been worrying stories about modern marijuana; that it is cut with other drugs that bring on psychotic episodes - particularly in young men, for some reason - and that can lead to mental illness in the longer term. But when politicians talk about marijuana they are talking about a drug from decades ago, when such horrors, if not unknown, were rare. It is almost impossible for any politician who was young in the 1960s, 1970s or 1980s to claim they did not smoke marijuana at some point, and it is kind of dumb to try. Both Barack Obama and the late Mo Mowlam came out with their hands up, thus spoiling any later revelations about their pasts. David Cameron seemed almost glad to do it. Marijuana use, rather sadly, was one of the few things that might alter the monotone picture of him as a toff in a suit. As we assume the dull uniforms of middle age, it is tempting to mention that there were times when we were not all in bed by 10.30pm, having taken a couple of antioxidants.

Over here, poor Brian Cowen has just been pulled into the frame in an interview with Hot Press magazine, a publication that tries to make something of a virtue of its obsession with marijuana. The results of this are mixed, except at election time.

Cowen, in response to a question from reporter Jason O'Toole, said: "Anyone who went to the UCD bar in the '70s that didn't get a whiff of marijuana would be telling you a lie. I would say that there were a couple of occasions when it was passed around - and, unlike President Clinton, I did inhale! There wasn't a whole lot in it really - [ it was like] a Sweet Afton, as a 10-year-old, under a railway bridge on a rainy day, in small-town Ireland in the late '60s. I certainly got more enjoyment out of a few pints."

Out of this humble yet vivid statement the Daily Mail, with its peculiar genius, got a front-page story. But the thing is that no one gives a curse whether Brian Cowen smoked marijuana 30 years ago. No one older than 60 cares. No one older than 40 did anything different themselves, and young people would rather not think about what their parents' generation got up to before there were mobile phones.

Interestingly, Jason O'Toole's first question to Cowen was about how he might have set a bad example by smoking cigarettes when he was minister for health. In his reply, Cowen very sensibly remarked: "I think sometimes political correctness goes way beyond what's necessary." And he does say interesting things in the interview: "I was the first Offaly man to ever be in Cabinet," a remark that says a lot more about him than any weary rehearsal of his smoking history.

The only damaging revelation about marijuana last week came from Trevor Sargent, leader of the Green Party (born July 1960). In a moment he may come to regret, Sargent told Hot Press's tireless O'Toole that he had never used marijuana in his life. Most of us had assumed that dope smoking was an absolute prerequisite for joining the Greens, never mind leading them. But Sargent admitted: "I didn't take to it at all . . . because, to be honest, I didn't want to impair my performance [ laughs]." This could be seen as the admission of a ruthless, efficient careerist, which, as we all know, is the last thing the Green Party needs.