I have to write something because that silly bugger Reg has changed the picture that my previous post alluded to. I won’t be making that mistake again.
A summary of tonight’s battle against the trick or treaters.
Nothing exceptionally exciting, but an unusually high turnout. We seem to be getting more young people in the village. Obviously shipped in to boost the Tory part vote when the current population turn up their toes.
My gambit with my first visitors was to tell them that they looked ill, and that perhaps they should go and lie down. “Lie down in the road” I suggested. They did. I love dumb obedience in the young (see my earlier comment about the Tory youth).
A gang of about seven were next to arrive. This was lovely. I opened the door and let out a scream (not a high pitched one, but still more of a scream than a roar). They screamed, very loudly, in return. Really high pitched screams. I then affected not to be able to hear them say “trick or treat”. It was fucking loud. And even fucking louder the fourth time.
“Don’t look behind you” I said to one young girl, “but there’s someone really scary standing at the end of my drive”. “That’s my mum”. “Scared me to death” I said. You will note that I did not say “scared the shit out of me”, or anything else inappropriate.
My favourite was a few years ago when a couple of older boys knocked (I guess about 11 or 12). I greeted them with the scream also. “I’ve peed my pants”.
I’m still waiting up at 11.00, but there have not been any visitors for some time. I guess I dug too many holes in the garden this year.