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Our Crack Little Crack
It’s sodding Halloween on Wednesday. How do I know that it’s sodding Halloween? It’s because every shop I go into is festooned with plastic spiders, cobwebs and other such tripe (although, to be fair, the cobwebs in my local paper shop are usually there all year round). Even when I was a child I didn’t care about Halloween. Back then we thought Halloween was for kids – and that’s when I was 10. We were far more interested in Guy Fawkes shenanigans. But these days Halloween has spread – rather like Christmas – so it encompasses a full week; a full week of arseholes dressed like arseholes. What makes it worse is that adults – grown people with mortgages – also think it’s appropriate to get dolled up as sexy zombies etc. But like all fancy dress events, Halloween falls down on the fact that participants have a laugh for about 10 seconds, but then have to spend the rest of the night looking like complete tits. So, no: anyone that’s old enough to vote who gets dolled up like an extra from The Walking Dead on Wednesday deserves to be booted into the very shallowest of graves.