It must be the proliferation of wannabe journalists that’s responsible for the ridiculous attention given to the American festival of Halloween – in shops and in the meeja. Because if nobody wrote about such rubbish, nobody else would find it interesting to participate in such childish games.
How much healthier to celebrate the grand ole English Gunpowderfest! Lots of smoke and undercooked sausages, sparklers and dads losing the matches. Dress code optional, letter boxes off limits. But of course our old f(r)iend Elf ‘n Softy has put the damper on family highjinks of that kind – so Guido Fawkes’ gruesome demise now has to be imagined in public places suitably patrolled and sanitised for our delectation. Luckily a timely new tv series will soon remind us of the bloody fate in store for those traitors in 1605 – portrayed in graphic detail in the comfort of our homes. Meanwhile at Cambridge (always the wimps) students are warned that Shakespeare carries a health warning – and lights out please before the tv watershed at 9 o’clock.
Again, the Yanks are ready to entertain us with the promise that Don the One will allow the release of the JFK files which the forces of law and order have kept locked away for 50 years; subtext: the truth will finally be known. Yeah, really? I rather suspect the critical papers will have been chucked on the bonfire decades ago – to protect the innocent, naturally. We’ll see.