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Bah Humbug Its Halloween
Part One of Lego Indiana Jones' - End of Year Survival Guide -

I may risk sounding like scrooge mcdracula but for the first time in around eleven years tonight I opened my door to a trick or treater. You’re probably thinking, “no biggy” (if you happen to be Cedric the entertainer); but for me it’s not just ignoring a knock at the door; it’s a whole deep undercover stealth operation which lasts from now to the end of the year and which causes me to sneak around the house in complete darkness until these six and a half year olds have to be in bed and then it’s full power to the only 25 watt bulb at Jones towers.
You’re probably saying to yourself, (get the fuck oudda here) if you’re Eddy Mumphry. Well I can tell you Cedric and Eddy it’s a complex operation. First you have to angle the blinds or curtains at a vantage point so you can see out but no one can see in. (I usually find a home made periscope helps - see Blue Peter, episodes 2 to 250,000). Once the coast is clear it’s time to do a barrel roll past the front door to the kitchen; I usually like to stand there for a moment and look around like spiderman (it also goes with my pyjamas) Then you’re almost free to do what ever you please, if you happen to want to open a cupboard or drawer that is. Running a tap is too noisy so if you haven’t deactivated the fridge light you’ll have to make do with your own urine; and unfortunately that’s when I made that rookie mistake. Half a second later my door was descended on by an old gypsy woman and a child. Having remembered to have removed my outside light and post it to myself to arrive after Christmas (ie 1st. Class) There was still a chance the shroud of darkness that surrounded them would scare them off; but no, not even the human poo I’d smeared on the path could turn them away; so I had little option. Thwarted by an old woman and a six year old child (again), I admitted defeat and opened the door. As I looked down to the little child she looked back through the darkness and poo and called to me, “Twik or tweet”. What was this, some Machiavellian fiendish ploy to tug at my last remaining heartstring. “No”, I yelled. “Avast thee young sprite, I cast a hex on thee and thoust old crone. How could you both twixt the pentagram of salt on my very boundary this hallows eve. I banish thee, banish thee both to the bowls of Cannon and Balls jokebook” - But instead I just kind of groaned, “hang on a minute” and closed the door. Not prepared for this situation I walked round in a circle a couple of times wondering what to get the girl. I didn’t think she’d appreciate the experimental drug I’d created, ‘Um Bongsprin’ a subtle blend of old um bongo cartons and even older aspirin packets (for that smoky texture with a hint of mesquite). So I had no other choice to get her the ‘sticky pound coin’.
The sticky pound coin lives in the kitchen and in our time together has been in several fires, (usually caused by cooking on Halloween with the lights out). Thus rendering it sticky and un-pocket able, (I also hold it personally responsible for all my recent bad luck). So I reached for a pair of tongs; peeled it from it’s perch and handed it to the girl. “Fankyou”, she called as the old crone whisked her away into the darkness.
After all that excitement it’s great to be back to just me and the old woman’s corpse who lives in the attic; tonight we’re watching broke back mountain… she’ll be sat in her rocking chair and I’ll be sat on her knee dressed as a sailor eating sweets…

Just kidding; I have a beanbag…

(p.s. I was working on a scary picture to go with the title but thought I'd enclose three Brosnon Pinchotless stills from 'Blame it on the Bellboy' instead for you to enjoy...)


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