Hugh Reilly: Just say nuts (monkey nuts, of course) to the new trick-or-treaters

Published on Tuesday 27 October 2009 20:11

BEING a rather antisocial type, few people dare to darken my door. Indeed, when I hear the ding-dong of the doorbell, I know it's either someone to read the meter, the window cleaner or that bloke demanding I reimburse him for the Betterware catalogue I inadvertently tossed in the bin. This Friday, I'll be taking the batteries out of my doorbell and lending a deaf ear to any rat-a-tat on my door – isn't that what everyone one does at Halloween?

When I asked my pupils if they were dressing up for Halloween, I was met with howls of derision and a Mexican wave of head shaking. Guising, it seems, is no longer cool. Personally, I'd walk a million miles to relive my Halloween gigs as a soot-faced Al Jolson, a pre-Nick Griffin era when my public performances did not lead to calls for my immediate repatriation. Back then, with money tight, the disguise kit in most homes consisted of a white sheet (ghost), battered bunnet with walking stick and handkerchief accessories (hobo) and the eye patch of a long dead aunt (pirate).

Knowing which tenement doors to knock required subtle intelligence-gathering. Paper delivery boys were interrogated to ascertain which customers had a reputation for meanness and were thus to be avoided. Top of the wealth hit-list were those who possessed that vulgar icon of western decadence – the colour telly.

My pupils couldn't believe that I sang my lungs out in the hope of being rewarded with an apple, a tangerine or a handful of monkey nuts. When I toured the tenements, I endeavoured to knock 'em dead with a rendition of Three Wheels On My Wagon, but, strangely, most listened only to the first few lines before frantically stuffing my bag with goodies and shuffling me across the landing to sing for their neighbours.

At Halloween, the normal rules of engagement regarding children and strangers didn't apply. We were actively encouraged to take sweets from strangers and enthusiastically accepted invitations to perform our impromptu concerts in the living-rooms of people who, for all we knew, could have been serial killers. To be fair, we kept small talk with our audience to a minimum; so many houses to call on, so little time to do it.

Contrast that age of innocence with the sick society we have created for kids today. Thanks to paedophilia hysteria, anxious parents accompany the children, only daring to allow their kids to chap on the doors of people deemed trustworthy. Our outrageously materialistic society means mums and dads are pestered by their offspring to keep up with the Joneses, thus Junior finds himself the recipient of a bespoke Spider-Man suit or some other spectacular outfit from a fancy-dress shop.

Halloween is dying. The modern generation of guisers, used to the concept of being handed everything on a plate, demur at the notion that they must entertain the householder in order to receive a Halloween treat. The offer of tired fruit or monkey nuts is met with a mixture of bewilderment and total disdain – for them, this whole dressing-up lark is about hard cash. Sophisticated youngsters weaned on Wii game technology scornfully reject traditional activities, such as dookin' for apples or biting, blindfolded, at treacle scones on a rope. Instead, some of our youth have embraced the American version of the pagan festival, whereby the householder is met with the question "trick or treat?"

Failure to meet the consumption needs of the adolescents leads to one's home being "egged".

At Halloween, the Celts often placed a human skull at their door. I think I've just stumbled across a way to minimise the number of potential guisers calling at my door.