I hate Halloween

It’s pointless


It’s that tacky, terrifying time of year again

Just face it – Halloween is shit. It means nothing to anyone over the prime trick-or-treating age, yet we all go along with it every October.

Be honest – It’s tacky,  with stupid costumes and the not-really-scary-at-all decorations that litter the city. Why do we bother spending an ungodly amount each year to dress up as a weird zombie or half-arsed cat with fake blood covering our faces.

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Just leave me be

Do you really want to repeat it for another year? Trying desperately to look like something from The Hills Have Eyes while attending one of those nights that promoters make out will be “THE BIGGEST EVENT EVER MAN.”

Like every Halloween, as the night goes on you’ll just gradually start to dispose of the outfits you’ve spend 20 quid on. The paint drips off your sweaty face as you walk around Concert Square looking for a taxi home, while you and your mates desperately try to convince yourselves that it was all worth it.

If zombies are what you’re looking for, just go and attend Carnatic breakfast on a Saturday morning.

Wow what inventive costumes

The picturesque street of Smithdown is an interesting place to live on Halloween.

People walk around with blood on their face every day anyway, how are we supposed to work out whether a strange man hobbling around Bargain Booze is about to or ask for a fight or a sweet? There’s always that dreaded sense of inevitability when a gang of kids who look like Nelson Muntz and his goons start wandering round the street with a few dozen eggs. They’ll probably come knocking on the door fifteen minutes later after destroying the house begging for their obligatory sweets even though they’re 16.

Someone ran across this scene dressed as a condom just after we took this

Someone ran across this scene dressed as a condom just after we took this

Every year it feels like we go through the exact same thing, waiting till the 30th October to sort out a costume, unintentionally giving off the vibe that you’ve just been stabbed in Sefton Park after walking home at 2am from a shite night out.

Ironically, at the house party, the one that stands out is the person who hasn’t put much effort in, while the guy dressed as an inflatable cock doesn’t get a second glance. Why am I the idiot for not putting the effort in to dress as someone like Jimmy Saville? “Yo mate, let’s go back to mine and make a costume of a raving paedophile, we’ll deffo get at least 20 Facebook likes”. It’s these Dapper Laughs worshipping twats that push Halloween over the edge of intolerable.

And don’t get me started on pumpkin carving. What is it even about?

I have no fucking clue what this is

There’s no denying Autumn is beautiful. The trees in Abercromby Square go a stunning, honey drenched orange, the fireworks paint the sky sparkly over Chester’s, but instead we choose to celebrate death and horror.

Maybe we could move all the people who want to celebrate Halloween to Toxteth Cemetery for the night, where they can enjoy all the horrific thrills they clearly crave.

John Keats described autumn as the “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”. Think of that next Saturday when you see a MDMA fuelled cat grinding a bloodied human-sized sanitary towel in Medication.