" Don't do that," said Mark, "they'll see you."

Louise was peering through a gap in the curtains. Outside it was cold and dark, the moon hidden by clouds. "I can't see anyone. Are we really going to spend the whole evening cowering in the dark?"

"There's no way I'm letting those little monsters know I'm in here."

"It's only a harmless tradition---"

"It's hardly traditional. Five years ago no one had even heard of "trick or treat" in this country and just ask all the terrified pensioners "cowering in the dark" how harmless it is."

"Pensioners do that every night. They must enjoy it. It's not like they do anything really bad and most of the groups have adults with them."

"So it's a great night for the local paedophiles."

"Everything's paedophiles with you, isn't it?"

"It's our version of it I object to. It's a naff and vaguely sinister imitation of, I admit, a rather colourful American tradition. Which they stole from the Celts, incidentally. You can't deny that Halloween was imported to fill the annoying October slump in the plastic crap market. We'll be celebrating the fourth of July next."

"You don't celebrate anything, Mark."

"On the thirty-first of October 1517, Martin Luther nailed his ninety-five theses to the door of the Wittenberg church. I'd rather celebrate that."

"Luther was no more English than St George. Besides, I don't think you'd be impressed if the local kids went around dressed as Lutherans, nailing faeces to your door."

"Theses. Tee aitch, not eff. It has much more relevance to this country. Without it we'd have no Henry VIII, no Elizabeth I---"

"No Bonfire Night."

"Ah, now there's a perfect British tradition. A celebration of religious intolerance; cold, wet and dangerous."

"At least you've researched this prejudice---"

There was a knock at the door.

Mark froze.

Louise smiled. She enjoyed this sparring as much as he did. Besides, she could tell he was going to let her win. "Go on. Join in. I've got a box of choccies in the kitchen. Don't knock what you haven't tried."

Mark sighed. "I'll do it. If you let me celebrate Isaac Newton day this Christmas."

"I'll think about it, Mr Grumpy. Now, tell them how scary they look and put a couple of sweets in each bag."

Mark opened the door. They didn't look scary at all. Some had cracked plastic masks. Others were wearing stockings over their heads. "Tr---" said Mark.

The tallest lifted his foot and stamped on Mark's knee. He hadn't known there could be so much pain in the whole world. He collapsed. The "kids" ran past him, grabbed the mobile phone from the table by the door. Another found Mark's wallet. Others picked up anything that looked valuable. One randomly broke Louise's ornaments.

The leader announced the raid was over. On the way out he paused to take the chocolates from Mark, spit on the back of his head and stamp on his hand. Then he shouted something obscene and ran out into the street to join his friends. The whole incident had lasted less than five minutes.

Louise had taken the cowering in the dark option after all when she heard the commotion. She came out of hiding and screamed when she saw Mark trying to close the door. "Oh my god! Are you hurt?"