Back in my day Halloween was a simple affair.

You grabbed a sheet from the airing cupboard, cut a couple of holes in it, threw it over you head and went out searching for apples and nuts.

You could nearly guess what beds the sheets had come from by the stains on them.  Large oval stains means the kid's bed and a splattering of small stains all over usually indicated teenage brother's bed.  I won't go into the parent's one.

Then television came along and slowly but inexorably Halloween became Americanised and became "trick or treat" with pumpkins everywhere and kids just dressing up in any fancy dress that took their fancy.  Somehow the spirit had gone out of the occasion and commercialism filled the resulting void.

Then everyone got in on the act and there are fancy dress parties everywhere with people deliberately trying to shock and offend.

Now I don't give a flying shite what people do to amuse themselves.  They can dress up as pregnant nuns or they can walk around bollock naked for all I care.  It doesn't affect me and I just completely ignore the whole affair.

No so for the Politically Correct though.

They are having a field day being offended by just about any and every costume out there.  We have reached the stage where people are urged to run through a checklist first and are given guidance as to what may potentially be offensive.

I presume that those dressing up in "shocking" costumes will be going to private parties?  They are hardly going to go knocking on people's doors so who is to be offended apart from others at the same party?  So how are the PC Police [PCPC?] going to find the non-PC costumes?  Are they going to go undercover and gatecrash parties?  If so what will they disguise themselves as?  If they want to fit in, I would assume they would have to wear something very non-PC which sort of defeats the whole purpose?  

So what am I going to do tonight?

Well, I might spend a quiet evening at home with a few whiskeys.

Or I might wander down for a quiet pint, being very careful how I open my electrified front gate.

And if I do wander down and some little snot-gobbler chucks a banger at me I'll smile and chuck a stick of dynamite back.

I believe in getting into the spirit of the occasion.