I see my neighbour's three kids approach the door last night with their costumes and bags at the ready to accept all the goodies they could hold.

*DING DONG*

There is silence. They remember what happened last year. They're not going to be caught out again.

"Help the hallowe'en party!", they cry as they hold open their sacks already half full with sweets, monkey nuts and satsumas.

"Certainly", I say. "I could fashion some bunting perhaps or make those lovely sandwiches with the crust cut off and cut into perfect little triangles?"

"Oh Jaysus, not this shite again. Just give us some treats".

"You know what, mini-Bono, you're really going to have to work on your lines. You asked me to help the hallowe'en party and so far I've suggested two ways that I could make this soiree, wherever it might be, a resounding success. Naturally if you already have somebody to perform those tasks I could do something else".

"Ahh just give us some fucking mini mars bars you old bollix!"

"I hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth, zombie corpse of Charlie Haughey. I am more than willing to help the hallowe'en party. In fact I could sort out the music as I know many famous DJs. In fact I have a direct line to 2FM's Rick O'Shea. How about that?"

"Ah here, we might be little kids but we're not stupid".

"Good point, well made, Lindsey Lohan's minge. How about I provide security so no undesirables get in? I could make the punch and I promise not to spike it. I make mean Rice Krispie cakes. I could help organise the party games. I could hire a clown for the party then beat the shite out of him when he arrives because I hate clowns. There are a million things I could do to help".

"Come on, this old prick is as big of an old prick as we thought. We'll get something somewhere else. Thanks for nothing you old shite".

They walk towards the gate.

"Wait", I say. They turn around.

"After what happened last year I felt kind of bad and I knew you'd be back again this year because kids don't learn their lessons quickly. I got something especially for you. The rest of the kids that call are getting fruit or root vegetables. You get something special."

I give them each an extra large sherbet dip.

"Wow! Thanks mister. You're not so bad after all".

I watch them skip happily down the garden path. I smile at their innocence, their youthful exuberance.

I hope the neighbours have got plenty of toilet paper.

50% sherbet, 50% double-strength laxative is going to rip the arses out of those little fuckers and they'll blame it all on eating too many sweets.

The perfect crime.