I had to put away the grumpy curmudgeon today.
Having won in the battle of good vs evil – or Hallowe’en versus turn all the lights off and pretend we’re not in – for the past few years, Carole chose this year to fight back and demand that we do something for Halloween.
For years, I have hated Halloween. I don’t see the point of it. It’s rubbish, and massively Americanised. And that’s before you get onto the fact that kids around here are shitboxes. I still hate Halloween. But this year I was forced to get into the spirit and decorate the house for when Carole came home and sat, eagerly, by the front door waiting to give out sweets to tiny humans.
Which was all well and good. But I was faced with having to deal with two lots of trick-or-treaters on my own. Or, more technically, one “can I have some sweets please” and one “Happy Halloween”. Times have changed. Clearly no-one says trick or treat anymore. Maybe I missed a memo.
But I still had to deal with it. It’s not my department. I considered sending them to walk round the block a few times until Carole got home. I mean, who knew attaching a very cheap skeleton to the door and putting a pumpkin in the window would attract this sort of attention? Between that and leaving the lights on I was clearly just asking for trouble.
For quite a while, though, the two visitors I had had were the only ones who came. Carole, now home from work and giddy as a kipper because she loves all this shit, was starting to get a bit miffed that no-one was coming. And that anyone who had been had been offered sweets by me – the grumpiest man alive on Halloween. I think she assumes I just open the door and threw sweets at the children screaming “Go on, take this and bugger off.”
I would never do that.
I wouldn’t stoop so low as to talk to these people…
And, to make it worse, there’s no special Most Haunted episode.