Hallowe'en

I fucking love it. An endless procession of kids knocking at the door sets young Tommy Knocker off a treat. Barking, snarling, hurling himself at the door like a demented banshee, the little kids the other side are shitting themselves. "Fuck me, no 74 have spent some money on special effects," they must be thinking, but this is no special effect, oh no, this is Tommy Knocker. He's for real all right. "Trick or treat, Mister," the oldest and bravest one whispers through the letterbox. Crash, bang, snarl, woof, woof, woof. "Do I sound like an American?" says me Dad. "Does this street look like America?" he goes on pressing home his point. "erm, no, not really," comes the timid reply. Crash, bang, snarl, woof, woof, woof. "Well fuck off then." "Come on Mister, it's only a bit of fun," he presses on. (The little ones have already shat themselves and gone by now). "OK, hang on, I haven't got any sweets, but I can give you a biscuit, is that OK?" "Yeah, I suppose." A minute later me Dad shoves a scone through the letterbox. At this Knocker goes completely berserk, thrashing around, crashing at the door, trying to eat bits of scone that have become encrusted around the letterbox (have you ever tries "posting" a scone through a letterbox, it isn't easy I can tell you). His tongue licking through the letterbox so it comes out the other side must have been a treat indeed for the youngster. Crash, bang, snarl, woof, woof, woof.. "That's not a biscuit, it's a scone. "It's a fucking biscuit in America son, now FUCK OFF! I don't think I can hold back the beast of Hades much longer...crash, bang, snarl, woof, woof, woof." I love it round here. Wait until you hear about what he's like with fireworks!