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JEREMY CLARKSON
The first real upside of this Covid business is that Halloween’s dead this year
A MAN called Vincenzo De Luca is my new favourite politician.
Earlier this year, he said that if students continued to flout the coronavirus restrictions, he would instruct the police to use flamethrowers.
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And now the 71-year-old governor of Italy’s Campania region is at it again.
He announced this week there would be a new total lockdown in his region beginning on the evening of October 31.
Many were surprised by this and asked him why he’d chosen the night of Halloween to start the curfew.
They pointed out that many children had been looking forward to putting candles in pumpkins, and trick or treating on the streets of Naples.
So he went on television and this — word for word — is what he had to say:
“Halloween is this huge piece of nonsense, this huge stupid Americanism that has also been imported into our country. Halloween is a moment of idiocy.”
He’s right. In the olden days, when people had warts on their faces and died at the age of 23 from something disgusting, religious leaders decided there should be one day a year when fires would be lit to stop the souls of the dead falling back down to Earth.
They also ran around pouring molten lead into the nearest river and no one knows why.
Some say it had something to do with the harvest. Others argue it was like a giant Remembrance Sunday, but for everyone who’d died. Not just the soldiers.
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Whatever, it became known as Hallow’s Evening and pretty soon, after people had grown brains, it died out.
I certainly never did anything on Halloween when I was a kid and I bet you didn’t either.
But then, the Fancy Dress Outfitters Association of America decided they could drum up a bit of business if they brought it back.
So, they teamed up with the Pumpkin Growers Society and urged children to knock on their neighbours’ doors, saying “Give me some money or I’ll vandalise your car.”
What this has to do with an ancient Irish festival where they poured lead into the village stream, I have absolutely no idea.
It’d be as daft as commemorating the crucifixion of Jesus by eating eggs made from chocolate.
However, the good news is that if the current UK regulations are still in place on October 31, I will be able to watch a boxset without having to answer the front door every three minutes so I can tell a bunch of scruffy urchins to bugger off.
It’s the first real upside of this whole Covid business.
Of course, my bitterness might have something to do with the fact that I have a whole field of pumpkins which I planted to cash in on the Halloween festivities.
And now, no one’s buying them.
Sensible motoring
WE all know the score.
If someone drops a glove on the motorway, a speed limit of 12mph is imposed while a “specialist glove retrieval unit” assesses the situation.
If there’s a breakdown, or an accident, or any kind of incident at all, the people in the control centre are always quick to flash up lower limits on the gantries.
Well. I used the M40 on Wednesday afternoon and I’ve never seen conditions so treacherous.
The rain from Storm Barbara was so heavy I couldn’t even see my own windscreen, let alone the end of my bonnet.
But despite this, no one had thought to impose a 50mph limit.
Mind you, that might have something to do with the fact that people had decided, all on their own, to slow right down.
Perils of the jet-set
WE were treated this week to the incredible sight of a Royal Navy marine with a jet pack on his back, landing on an “enemy” ship to prove that this James Bond gadget could have a real role to play in the military.
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Hmmm. I’m not sure about that because if I were on the enemy ship and I saw jet-pack man approaching, I’d wait for him to slow down, which he must do before landing. And then I’d shoot him in the face.
Or, if I wanted to warm myself up, I’d shoot him in the fuel tank.
It’s not like you could ever launch a surprise attack either.
Those jets may be small but they make even more noise than the full-sized jobs you find in an English Electric Lightning.
Basically, you would hear one coming from about 4,000 miles away.
Still, at least they’re completely safe.
No, wait a minute. I’ve spelled “massively dangerous” wrong.
Goofed on Reg
A FORMER schoolteacher called Spencer Davis died this week at the age of 81.
He could speak German, French and Italian but was perhaps better known for a string of hits including Gimme Some Lovin’, I’m A Man.
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And Keep On Running, a song which knocked the Beatles off the No1 spot.
To me though, Spencer was known most of all for two acts of carelessness.
First, he allowed his genius singer and keyboard player, Steve Winwood, to leave the band.
And second, he turned down a proposed replacement called Reg.
Which was a shame because Reg went on to become Elton John.
Haunted hedgehogs
RESEARCHERS have decided that there are now only a million hedgehogs left in Britain and that in three years, all of them will have been run over.
They blame this on “driver behaviour” but I’m not sure they have thought that through.
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Because no driver is ever going to run over a hedgehog if there’s the slightest chance of avoiding it.
Partly this is because everyone loves hedgehogs and partly it’s because you’d get a puncture.
And there’s another flaw in the researchers’ argument.
Because the real reason for the dramatic and worrying decline in hedgehog numbers is: They’ve all been eaten by badgers.
Busybody volunteers
VOLUNTEERS are being given speed guns so they can stand at the side of the road, trying to catch people driving too quickly.
If you see one of these people, ring the police immediately, and say he’s just “touched” you.
And that he wasn’t wearing a mask.
Taking stock... of Bambi
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MONTY DON, the smooth-voiced gardener with the voluminous corduroy trousers, reckons that Britain is home to far too many deer.
He says that Bambi is eating all the trees and that if nothing is done to check the numbers, Britain’s woodlands will soon be completely destroyed.
I agree with that but I’m not sure that his suggested solution will work very well.
Because he wants us to reintroduce wolves.
Now. I like a good wolf as much as the next man but only so long as it’s in Canada or Finland.
Not hiding in the hedge at the bottom of my garden.
If I want to stop Bambi from eating my trees, it’s better to shoot him.
And then put him in a pot with some small onions, a stick or two of chopped celery, a bit of red wine and some stock.
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