Hello, it’s me.
Here’s the thing. Trick or Treat, then.
The name is all wrong.
In its current form, surely, the name for this festival of begging implies “I want a trick or a treat”? At least this is how I interpret it.
Imagine my surprise and dismay when a youth appeared at my door last night and, hand out in the now traditional style of the Big Issue vendor, muttered from within its hoodie, “Trick or treat.” (You will note, dear reader, that it was a simple statement, ending, as it does here, with a full-stop. No excitement or anticipation was apparent in its delivery).
So I tipped hot tar and a barrel of feathers over it, turned it around and pushed it back towards its parent, who for some reason was shaking a fist and was apparently rather angry.
“Trick!” I called, as I jauntily waved them off the premises, closed the door and tucked into a bar of chocolate.