A knock on the door. Two young men with lapel badges being very earnest about premature babies. I didn't wait to find out where they were from, or what they wanted, but I did ask them what they thought they were up to knocking doors at this time of night, because I know that several of our neighbours are elderly women living alone whom these night-knockers probably frighten half to death. "We're licensed by the local authority until 8:30", one replied, defensively yet belligerently.
Oh, so that's OK then. They are licensed by the same local authority which says that we are entitled to enjoy the peace and quiet of our homes to frighten old ladies by banging on their doors until 20:30 hours.
And it isn't that I'm against premature babies - far from it. In 1968 the first of our two boys was born six weeks early, and it was a nerve-wracking time for both of us, particularly as the hospital in which our baby was in intensive care was 12 miles from where we lived, and his mother was at home recovering, and expressing milk twice a day for me to race off with to the hospital on my Lambretta. My wife didn't hold the baby until he was six weeks old.
So please don't tell me that I am prejudiced against premature babies, or, for that matter, Lambrettas.
But allow me to be prejudiced against any brace of tough-looking young men who bang on my door at 8:20pm when dark night is well advanced, whatever their excuse, and whatever their lapel badge might say. Heavens, I could make you a laminated lapel badge saying whatever you wanted it to say in five minutes, and so could anybody with a computer, a printer and a cheap laminater. They are no longer worth the plastic they're sealed in.
There is a particularly nasty form of moral blackmail that the outfits who send people to knock uninvited on people's doors use, and it's of the "have you stopped beating your wife?" variety. They play tricks with your fears, and they play tricks with your guilt. They make beggars out of perfectly decent young people with disabilities, and you give them money so that they will go away. If the cunning people who send people out on door-knocking missions were legitimate outfits, they would have more sense, because their tactics are inevitably counterproductive. These night-knockers taint what might be inherently a worthy cause with the stink of corruption, because people are inherently suspicious about causes which have to do their business skulking in the dark, whether or not such skulking is sanctioned by their local authority.
In our area residents are being advised by the police and, yes, the inevitable local authority, to put up signs saying "no carol singers." Funnily enough, I am actually solidly behind the police and the local authority on this one, but in the interests of the carol-singer, for if they dare to venture into this house with their squeaky two lines of figgy pudding, I promise you they will not emerge until they are capable of singing in the best Bach choir in the land. But I don't think that's quite what the police (and the local authority) have in mind.
It is quite obvious that if the authorities regard carol singers as a dangerous and threatening nuisance, they should also regard trick-or-treaters and opportunistic drive-renewers and collecting-tin wavers as inhabiting the same category. And while they're at it, political canvassers. After all, we can block rude intrusions into the peace and quiet of our homes by phone by signing up to the Telephone Preference Scheme, so why shouldn't we also be able to protect our front doors from intrusive knockers?
So here is something you can do for yourself, quite legally.
Made a small poster with something like the following words on:
THIS IS A SELF-EMPLOYED HOUSEHOLD
Cold-callers are welcome, but please have your ID and VAT registration number ready for checking.
Our rates are £50 for ID and VAT confirmation, then £25 for the first minute of doorstep consultation, and £10 per minute thereafter.
Please ensure that you have sufficient money (cash only) to meet your obligations before you ring the bell.
You never know, it might just work.
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