It’s bloody well started. I arrived home an hour ago and Mrs Longrider had to move the car so that I could get the bike down the drive. Barely had I managed to get through the door and Mrs Longrider was still shunting the Clio, than a crowd of kids dressed in the customary regalia for the season accompanied by one of their mothers rang the doorbell demanding “trick or treat”.
Trick or treat, my arse. If an adult walked into someone’s property and started some preamble about how nice it was and how unfortunate it would be if “something happened to it”, PC Plod would be feeling their shoulder pretty pronto. Trick or treat is extortion dressed up as a children’s game. It is as unethical as the protection racket and I refuse to countenance it.
Add to my utter abhorrence of the principle, disturbing me when I still have one foot in my leggings, the phone is ringing and I’ve barely got through the door is hardly conducive to a favourable response. Mother’s snotty remarks inferring that Mrs Longrider and I are of the grumpy old men ilk, may be accurate, but is pretty rich from someone who has walked uninvited onto our property and whose children have just engaged in making demands with menaces.
No, I don’t like trick or treat and it is an American import that we could well do without.
‘American import’. Don’t worry, there will be another one on the way soon. BTW I didn’t get any little bleeders knocking on my door. They must have read my post. 🙂