Tuesday, 1 November 2011
I don't know, you reluctantly buy into the Hallowe'en bullshit and stock up on chocs and sweeties for when kids in $5 masks ring the bell, and then the little sods stay away and leave you with the bloody lot. Maybe that's the trick element of Hallowe'en - they want me to eat the treats and turn into a fat(ter) bastard. Well sod it, next year I'm not bothering. Any child who comes to the door will just get an unlucky rabbit's foot. A fresh one that's still warm and bloody and, if we're lucky, twitching slightly. It's either that or human sacrifice under the carport.
Not proper blogging but sod it|