By my definition, political campaigners, of all parties, are scum.

This is because they insist on coming to my house, knocking on my door and telling me things. Failing that, they post leaflets and ‘news’ letters through my door which clog up my entranceway and always, without fail, go directly in the bin. It’s ‘canvassing’, and supposedly it’s one of the most important parts of the run-up to an election.1

Other groups I would describe as scum include, but are no means limited to, Jehova’s Witnesses, ‘Charity’ collectors, Avon representatives, envoys from gas, electricity or media companies (yes, Mr. Branson, that includes you).

Lumped in with them is anybody in the street who collars me in the street for any reason, be it to tell me that Jesus is the only way to love and salvation (or that smoking/having long hair/going to a Deftones concert/living is the quickest way to damnation), that I need to go to see ‘Dead Kill Napalm Skulls‘ or DJ Pubic Hair at the flea pit on Wednesday night, that animals are dying in laboratories (oh please), or that you have 25 copies of The Big Issue you need to sell.

People: get this into your thick skulls. My time is valuable (even if only to me). My attention is valuable (even if only to me). I don’t have to put up with your crap, nor with your rudeness. I don’t care how much money I could save, nor how complete my life will be as a result of 30 seconds spent talking to you. Leave me alone. A rule of thumb:

If you don’t know my name, don’t knock on my door.

A friend of mine once gave what I consider to be the epitome of perfect responses to a man who leapt out in front of him and asked “what kind of music are you into?”

“None of your f**king business.”

  1. In a future post, perhaps we could go into ways that politcal campaigners can legitimately attract my attention and deserve my time []