Phew. Managed to survive the onslaught of young extortion racketeers last night. I had adopted a cunning tactic.
Option 1 - Play them at their own game.
Remove lampshade from pendant light fitting in hallway.
Put on bad wig and secondhand dressing gown (available from all good charity shops). Set the lightbulb swinging. Pull open the front door very quickly and raise right arm holding a piece of cardboard fashioned in the shape of a carving knife.
Then watch with glee as the little tikes run for the pavement, begging forgiveness for all their sins.
Option 2 - Pretend it's 1977, we'd enjoyed our Silver Jubilee street parties in the Summer and even though punks were being punks children were once children.
"Trick or treat?"
"Oh hello children. Have a bag of Lemon Bon Bons and share them with your brethren."
"Oh thank you very much. Happy Halloween."
Option 3 - Pretend you're not in even though the lights are on.
Now, I know this is the preferred option for most but being Plumsteadshire where all's the best in this best of all possible worlds, I let my partner answer the door whilst I hide in the dining room.
With the Festival of Legalised Extortion out of the way, we've now got the Festival of Legalised Street Explosions, a celebration of suburban terrorism with added bang. Don't we all love it.