Tonight, I find myself staying in away from the depths of society, in favour of more blowing up of digital make believe people and then watching hard core erotic episodes of “Location, Location, Location”. The only reason is that this weekend falls one of the most pointless events of the year, Halloween. Now before I’m condemned as being a witch and burned at the stake, let me explain.

Halloween is yet another one of those wonderful events where the various enterprises of the world can make some extra money out of something which doesn’t even really matter, like Valentine’s Day or No Pants Day, a holiday I celebrate every day in the privacy of my local supermarket. What is surprising is that there are a lot of people more than happy to indulge in such things.

For most Halloween is an excuse to “trick or treat” (the trick being your house being egged), wearing costumes (bin liners) and attending some “well to do” tw*t’s party in said attire where you basically do the same thing as you would any other day of the week. Well perhaps with the exception of apple bobbing, in which case you find out which of the drunk women are what we call “gifted.”

Maybe you’re also perfecting your combat knifing skills by slicing open big orange things to have a slightly more scary look about them (or as some may know them as; people who have fake tans). Perhaps you’re also going on complete wastes of time like “ghost” tours, visiting so called haunted attractions, or basically getting bombed while watching the Evil Dead series.

But cut to central London and it turns into something, so fowl and more ugly than a group of fat people being let loose at an all you can eat buffet. After a certain time at night, the sheer level of violence, vomiting, or for that matter the different amount of fluids released in general and shouting in anger that occurs on the streets reaches a level that if a nuclear holocaust were to occur, it would come as something of a relief.

The darling children seem to have lost any sense of wonder about the whole affair too, as they seem to just go to the effort of stealing a 59p skeleton mask from Asda and then wandering around all the pubs, asking the punters for their hard-earned money, effectively doing the same thing as what most homeless people do, except they are smaller and they’ve not discovered the joys of cheap bottles of cider from an Off License just yet.

At the end of the day, does anyone truly know what the point of this “wonderful” day is meant to be about or what relevance it does have for us? I suspect if I were to ask that of anyone at this time, the response would involve a park bench, a bolt gun and my ass.

If we are to take a step back for a moment and forget about the silliness of it all, maybe in a strange sort of way, this little event provides much needed distraction to various problems that we have occurring in our daily lives. That we can forget for a short time about the bills that need to be paid, the pain and misery of working in dead-end jobs and of course the ultimate question, why can’t I fit into those 34″ jeans with my 44″ waist?

But given the liberal sprinkling of bunny rabbit quote marks in this little muse, the ominous sound of police sirens wailing all night outside and Facebook will be smerred with endless pictures of how much of a sh*t time everyone had, shall we just call it a day for this one?

Instead, do something more scary, like go round to the homes of Jehovah’s Witnesses to inform them about the joy of sex, and provide them with a magazine, just like they do? Maybe go out on a date with someone that has a face that could force planes to crash? There are alternatives people, let’s see what we can do.