You're a what?

Halloween night round my way is usually a fairly explosive affair. Considering fireworks are illegal in Ireland, a hell of a lot of them seem to go up in the few days leading up to and culminating on October 31st.

It must be a sign of encroaching old age, but every year, the ordinance deployed in my neighbourhood sounds louder and louder. If you have ever considered pulling a bank job, holloween night would be the perfect time to stage the caper. Nobody would notice the shotgun blasts.

Last night, the usual gang of kids pulled up to the door, scrounging chocolate, but one kid stood out. He didn’t have the best costume, no, but he had the best script. As I doled out the goodies, he stood at the back of his group of mates, and I asked them what they were dressed up as. The answers came back – batman, a ghost, a witch and as I looked at the kid at the back, who could only have been about eight years old, I thought he was a cowboy or something.

“What about you kid, what are you? The lone ranger?”

“No, I’m a Brokeback Mountain Gay!!”

“What?????”

“Yeah, I love you!!”

Somewhere, there’s an adult with a great sense of humour with a lot to answer for.