North Atlantic Skyline - - Photographs from the west of Ireland (Galway, Mayo, Clare, Limerick, Roscommon and even Leitrim)

Singing for your supper

It's Halloween night, the culmination of every gurrier in the neighbourhood firing off bangers and fireworks at dogs, cats and anything else that moves for the last fortnight. I realised that I wasn't really prepared for it when a couple of little munchins in Scream masks arrived at the door demanding treats.

Um, I don't have any sweets. Erm, how about some fruit ?"

"Want sweets". [Underneath the mask, a lower lip was beginning to tremble.]

"Well, I don't have any. I could throw in a few vegetables if you like".

"WANT SWEETS". [Very soon, a foot would be stamped]

"THEY'LL WARD OFF SCURVY, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SODS"

They flounced off, but I knew defeat when I saw it, so I drove up to the petrol station and bought a couple of big bags of sweets.
Ten minutes later, another motley crew arrived at the door, each carrying a shopping bag full of a dentist's mortgage repayments. When I opened the door, they held out the bags expectantly.

"Not so fast, kids. You going to have to sing for your tooth-rotting sugar buzz. Or dance."

Much shuffling and muttering ensued before one little Goth started off with "I love you, you love me-"

Oi! Absolutely no Barney! And no Britney either."

Blank stares and silence. I paid them off anyway.

Of course, the word soon went out that number 21 was a soft touch, and two minutes later, another bunch of miniature Marilyn Mansons arrived, expectantly.

I informed them of the conditions. This bunch were even less talented than the last. They didn't even know any songs - not unlike the real Marilyn Manson, then. Doesn't any kid spend their time gawping at MTV anymore - what’s the world coming to?. Finally, one kids faced brightened.

"I'll sing you a Mickey Harte song!"

Playing dirty, eh? I paid them off hurriedly and sent them on their way.

I stopped answering the door when I ran out of goodies. I had a tub of Ben & Jerry's in the fridge but I would have demanded the first hour of Riverdance before any of the little squirts were getting their mitts on that. The last bunch summed up the night. A trio of Draculas arrived at the door.

"No, we don't know any songs".

"Ah lads, you'll never make it to You're a Star at this rate"

"From the smallest of the three (all of two foot tall) came the grumble,

""We're better than you anyway"

Quick as a flash, one of the others bundled him out of the way, and held out his goody bag.

"He's being cheeky - I'll take his share."

Now that's showbiz.

PS Judging by Dervala's account of Halloween in New York, I got off lightly...

Posted by Monasette at October 31, 2004 08:00 PM