How to scare off the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Actually there’s a couple of ways, as I found out this morning. The first thing that seems to put them off the pace is opening the door. These two seemed happy to spend the day knocking on doors for no response and then to turn to their God and say “sorry, but everyone’s at work.”

They appeared more than a little surprised that I was in at ten o’clock on a weekday.

Of course this could have been partly down to my appearance. I was dressed and even shaved off the sort-of beard earlier in the week, but having not had a hair cut since August it now seems to be growing out of control. Gone is the bird’s nest Highway 61 era Dylan-esque look and it’s now like a hybrid of Jesus and the Mary Chain and a drunk mammoth.

I probably need a cut. Well, it does, definitely, need a cut, but I can’t really be bothered and I don’t know in what style (using the word loosely there) to get it cut in.

Anyway.

I think my opening comment really freaked them.

“Oh great. I’m glad you guys have come round. There’s thirty-two boxes of Jehovah’s Witness literature in the attic someone left here in the eighties. Could you take it away with you?”

Honestly. It’s true. Trevor-the-odd-job-man discovered it fixing yet another leaky pipe last year.

They didn’t believe me, though.