British Halloween
Halloween has come and gone in the UK, and like the last few years was bit of a non-event. The British populace’s approach to the holiday is as lackadaisical as the Australian one. Blockbuster may have a “Spooky Colouring In Contest” and the local bakery may whip up a few cookies shaped like Witches – but that’s usually about as involved as the city gets. If anything, the festival seems to be an opportunity for the local thugs to put rubber masks on their kids and go around the pubs yelling “Trick or Treat” and demanding money from the patrons.
I was at a pub during Halloween last year with Mule and some other guy who had been dossing on our couch for a week (and I’ll be damned if I can remember that fucker’s name) when a ten year old kid came up and sat at the table we were quietly drinking beers at. The kid told us “Trick or Treat”, and that he was dressed as a Vampire (which consisted of a black T-shirt and jeans. No make up. No fangs.) and that if he told us a joke we were to put five quid in his “Goodies Bag” (which was in fact a plastic jug). We weren’t interested in any school yard humour, and politely told him to fuck off.
Then he told us the joke anyway. I can’t recall the actual joke, but I distinctly remember thinking at the time “you unfunny prick”.
Vampire Kid then held his hand out and yelled “5 Quid!” We reminded the little bastard that we had declined his God Awful offer and asked him to go away. The kid didn’t budge, pushed his hand further out, and said while glaring his evil little eye balls at us “I told you the joke, now pay me. 5 Quid”.
Now we started to get a little nervous. Because if there’s something to be scared about in London, it’s the children. Not the Muggers, not the Hooligans, the Let’s-go-and-slash-somebody’s-face-and–film-it-on-our-mobile-phones children. And we had one of these Godless little British Bastards in our face demanding money, and he wasn’t looking like he was leaving any time soon.
I only had a Tenner on me, and was about to nervously ask for £5 change (but would have accepted a second joke if the kid couldn’t break a ten) when a scruffy looking woman came in demanding where Tim had got to with her plastic Mixing Jug. Vampire Kid (aka “Tim”) shot us one last death stare, skulked off with his irritated parent, and we were saved.
And that, my friends, is my British Halloween anecdote.
(Side Note: At time of writing, the Vampire Kid’s joke had a cost price of 9.5US Dollars, 12.3AU Dollars, 34.6 Malaysian Ringgits).
I was at a pub during Halloween last year with Mule and some other guy who had been dossing on our couch for a week (and I’ll be damned if I can remember that fucker’s name) when a ten year old kid came up and sat at the table we were quietly drinking beers at. The kid told us “Trick or Treat”, and that he was dressed as a Vampire (which consisted of a black T-shirt and jeans. No make up. No fangs.) and that if he told us a joke we were to put five quid in his “Goodies Bag” (which was in fact a plastic jug). We weren’t interested in any school yard humour, and politely told him to fuck off.
Then he told us the joke anyway. I can’t recall the actual joke, but I distinctly remember thinking at the time “you unfunny prick”.
Vampire Kid then held his hand out and yelled “5 Quid!” We reminded the little bastard that we had declined his God Awful offer and asked him to go away. The kid didn’t budge, pushed his hand further out, and said while glaring his evil little eye balls at us “I told you the joke, now pay me. 5 Quid”.
Now we started to get a little nervous. Because if there’s something to be scared about in London, it’s the children. Not the Muggers, not the Hooligans, the Let’s-go-and-slash-somebody’s-face-and–film-it-on-our-mobile-phones children. And we had one of these Godless little British Bastards in our face demanding money, and he wasn’t looking like he was leaving any time soon.
I only had a Tenner on me, and was about to nervously ask for £5 change (but would have accepted a second joke if the kid couldn’t break a ten) when a scruffy looking woman came in demanding where Tim had got to with her plastic Mixing Jug. Vampire Kid (aka “Tim”) shot us one last death stare, skulked off with his irritated parent, and we were saved.
And that, my friends, is my British Halloween anecdote.
(Side Note: At time of writing, the Vampire Kid’s joke had a cost price of 9.5US Dollars, 12.3AU Dollars, 34.6 Malaysian Ringgits).
posted by Beef at Saturday, November 04, 2006
6 Comments:
Scary little fuckers aren't they? My old flatmate was a teacher in London and I came home to find her hiding upstairs in the dark as all of her pupils were banging on the door demanding candy.
Cracker night is even worse.
I just walked home from the pub on cracker night. Noisey, dangerous little fuckers.
Holy Hell, 5 quid is almost 10 bucks? For a freaking joke? I know the UK is expensive but you must be kidding me. What is this cracker night of which you speak?
Cracker night or Guy Fawkes night, used to be a annual celebration steeped in history.
Now it is just an excuse for snotty little shits to try and blow their mates fingers off. It is no longer for a night, it now builds up over a week or so, reaches it crescendo on cracker night and tapers off after that.
You can read more about it here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes_Night
Needless to say, I am glad it is no longer widely celebrated in Australia.
And now uncle beef is no longer living around the corner, I have to walk my own way home in this insanity. Selfish bugger.
You want to see fear child? Let me introduce you to my fist of hatred.
Thats what I tell them pesky kids. I dont care if they are under 5 either.
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