None of the kids come to our door. I think their mums and dads tell them to stay clear of the funny men with long hair that are never out. Besides, I usually have a nice big pot of chip fat on the hob, just in case I need to ummm...wash the step by the front door, you know?
Anyway, I remember sitting one night with Run To the Hills by Iron Maiden blasting out my speakers on a Friday night and some wee bastards started chibbing stones at my window, I switched the music off and I ehard them shouting "TURN THAT FUCKING OFF...WHAT ARE YOU, A FUCKING GOTH OR SOMETHING?!".
I've probably already mentioned this on here.
Naturally I ran out and gave the entire 25 of them a right good fucking kicking.