Everything is Halloween. The next horror to hit the shops is Valentine’s Day, forever associated with a massacre and carte blanche for every creepy stalker out there. Send a card but don’t sign it. Just write something romantic such as ‘I’m always watching you’ or ‘You smell different when you’re asleep’.
There is an old love spell that involves piercing a lamb’s heart with thorns and nailing it to the door of your crush. I would love to know if that ever worked. You can get lamb hearts in most butchers, even supermarkets – they make a lovely romantic Valentine meal. I mean, lambs, right? It’s the very heart of cuteness. How can it fail?
Easter, of course, is already in the shops. The Brexit scare that there will be no chocolate for Easter is giggle-inducing because the shops are already full of it. I think that was a ploy by the chocolate companies to induce panic buying.
Ah, Easter, the time of the Hollow Bunnies and rampant dental caries. See? That’s Halloween material for sure. Add in stories of people nailed to crosses then rising from the dead and hey, that is definitely another Halloween.
Christmas? A strange old man with a bulging sack sneaks into children’s bedrooms when everyone is asleep and if they are good he leaves them a gift – but it’s their little secret. Come on. What could possibly be creepier and more horrifying? Christmas is another Halloween.
There are normally spaces between all these Halloweens of course but Brexit has kept the festival going for ages. No breaks, no breathers. It’s relentless.
Lately, Gary Lineker, ex-kickball-player and the man blessed with ears that so resemble huge crisps that Walkers Crisps saw advertising potential, has been putting around a fake NHS leaflet claiming that we won’t have any medicines after Brexit. Even the NHS has responded with ‘can it, dickhead’ although they were rather more diplomatic.
A country isolated with no medication… Halloween. See? I might be the only survivor because I have a pack of 12 aspirin and that should last me for the next five years. I don’t take anything else.
Gary the Glum has been a prolific purveyor of Brexit-based Halloween stories. He is convinced the country is heading for the abyss but even though he can easily afford to move to another one, he isn’t even trying to. Just like that other horror master, A.C. Grayling. They are determined to ride the roller coaster to Hell but really, we all know it isn’t going there. So do they. They just want us to do as we are told.
Well that’s not going to happen.
‘There will be no NHS after Brexit’. It was there before the EU existed and if we stay in, harmonisation of health provision across the United States of Europe will shut it down. Since it seems to do little more than nag us about the way we choose to live, whatever shuts it down won’t bother me. Perhaps it can then be reformed to employ doctors and nurses rather than Puritan lifestyle Nazis.
I haven’t yet heard that Denmark will ditch the lucrative UK bacon market, nor that Germany is happy to never sell another car here. I’m sure those things are coming – we’ll all be back on eating pig’s trotters and driving Vauxhall Vivas and Morris Minors after Brexit.
Perhaps we’ll be back to horse and cart and feasting on gruel. Won’t that be fun?
This Brexit crap is a goldmine for horror writers. If they just got on with it, there’d be nothing to write about. Good old Tessie Maybe, the Queen of Indecision. A sensible Prime Monster wouldn’t have provided anywhere near this level of fun.
Well, tomorrow is another day.
I bet it’s also another Halloween.