It’s that time of year folks when badly dressed, aggressive teenagers, lurk outside your front door, in the hopes of robbing you or smashing up your hanging baskets. ‘Halloween’ to give it its correct name is upon us again and it’s the one night of the year where a dirty sheet is deemed to be a ‘costume’. This may not be a popular opinion, so I apologise to those of you reading this that love all things weenie, but I really don’t get the point.
Halloween, correct me if I’m wrong, is the day of the year that is traditionally dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints, martyrs and all the Christian faithful departed believers. I am not aware of it being the official day to hand over Haribo to a bunch of school kids for fear of being peppered with flaming dog shit if you refuse.
How do humans manage to bastardize all of these Christian celebrations? Jesus was born on this day, Cadbury selection boxes for everybody!!!! Jesus was supposed to be resurrected at Easter, Happy Chocolate Egg day!!! WOOOO HOOOOO!!!!
Who knew that Christianity was sponsored exclusively by Chocolate?
I’m not a religious person and would never turn down a Christmas cracker or one of Cadbury’s finest, chocolate orbs, but there does come a point where enough is enough.
The sales of Pumpkins at our supermarkets have gone through the roof. Does anybody actually buy pumpkins at any other time of the year? The one time when they are bought and we mock them by hollowing out their insides, carve faces on them and then finally light them up like a lantern. It all then goes in the bin and the humble Pumpkin is ignored for another year, how terribly wasteful of you, you vegetable murdering bastards.
I wouldn’t mind if our nations teenagers actually bothered to make an effort when dressing up for their rounds, but knocking on my door dressed in your school uniform will not have me reaching for the fun-size Mars Bars. Unless of course you are an attractive woman in her late twenties, then that scenario surprisingly works for me.
Four lads once knocked on my door dressed in their own clothes, and in the most uninterested voices ever, proclaimed “Trick or Treat”. I did what came naturally and I looked them up and down and then told them to ‘Fuck off’, so you see I can get into the spirit of it all, I saw it as my own personal treat.
So this year, when all of Fagin’s little street urchins, come begging at my front door for confectionery or cash, dressed as pirates and ghoulies, I will do as I always do. I will sit in the dark all evening as to give the impression that I actually have a life and am currently out at some party or other.
Miserable Musing. 