Picture this: A warm cosy room, uber comfy sofa all to yourself, slab of chocolate, Gin & Tonic mixed just right and dear lord… Your neck hairs prickle – a sure sign that your fossilised brain is about to spit out that elusive word to complete tonight’s fiendishly tricky crossword… when all hell breaks loose! A rap at the door, the dogs explode into action howling as though they’re auditioning for the hounds of hell – the last magical mouthful of G&T flies from your hand, soaking the paper, leaving the sofa reeking of alcohol fumes. The nightmare is only just beginning.

Because tonight gentle reader, is All-Hallows-Eve. AKA Halloween, or Trick or Treat. Or let’s dress the kids up in skimpy rags and throw them out into a cold winter’s night for an hour or two to knock on strangers’ doors and beg for sweeties. And if the killjoys won’t cough up – to threaten ’em.

‘Gimme treats or I’m gonna give you tricks. You old fart.’ OK I made that last bit up, but you can see ’em thinking that.

And so, all over the country mothers trip to Tesco and spend their hard-earned child benefit on barely there fairy outfits or sexy witch gear then encourage their offspring to roam the streets demanding sweets with menaces. And these little ghosts and goblins and Harry Potter wanna-bes aren’t after any old sweets. Everyone must enter the spirit of things and lay in specially prepared ‘Halloween Treats.’ Even Marks and Sparks heaves with specially packaged chocolate and other goodies, cunningly crafted to resemble snot and blood and vomit. And none of this comes cheap. Apparently the great British public now spend more on Halloween Night than Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day. Think about that. We spend almost twenty million more pounds on throw away tat, mutilated pumpkins and overpriced sweets than celebrating our own Mother’s special day. Halloween – £55m: Mother’s Day £37m. Makes you proud to be human.

Fellow Old Farts – fight back! You’ll still have to jump up and down from your perch like a jack in the box, but if you can persuade just one child that not everyone appreciates their efforts to out ghoul Stephen King, then we’re winning. Do not feel guilty. You didn’t ask to have your precious leisure time hijacked.

My strategies to trick the treaters:

Smile delightedly, as though your evening is now complete on seeing the 36th kid dressed as a witch/zombie.

Congratulate them on being so original in their plastic capes and vampire teeth.

Tell them they are the best yet, and to wait while you get the goodies. Close the door. Continue with your crossword. Or painting the bathroom ceiling, or writing your new bestseller. After ten minutes or so, you may hear a timid knock on the door. (They still think you’re so impressed, you’ve gone to get something extra special for them.) My advice is to wait for the third magical knock. With luck, they’ve now wasted at least twenty minutes, and that’s twenty minutes in which they haven’t terrorised some other poor old fart.

Open the door again. Express surprise and delight etc. at their costumes. They are now a little confused, but still willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Go and get the goodies. Or rather the baddies. Yes. I’ve spent the past month squirreling away the coffee crème chocolates and other rejects no-one in their right minds wants to eat. When they run out I turn to my trusty jar of coppers. A handful of this shrapnel wrapped in a bag feels satisfyingly heavy, but will cost you an awful lot less than those overpriced sweets. If all else fails, bribe the teenager to stay in. A quavery ‘go away’ will only result in an onslaught of trickery. A gruff ‘get lost’ from a six-foot something ex-life-guard come rock climbing teacher will have the desired result every time.

If I sound like an old fart, remember I am one. But harmless. On October 31 millions of kids will be knocking on strangers’ doors. Anyone could be lurking behind those doors. Now that isn’t scary.

It’s terrifying.