There is one good thing about the American-led commercialisation of Halloween. Yes, of course it's a bitter irony that this most Irish of festivals, which was brought to the new world by our dirt-poor emigrants, is now being repackaged and sold back to us by their offspring, at a 50 per cent mark-up. Hard to stomach, indeed.
But the amusing thing, surely, is that it is also being sold to the English, and that they are just as powerless as we are to resist. When Halloween was merely an Irish (and Scottish) phenomenon, our more powerful neighbours could safely ignore it.
And of course they had their own excuse for fireworks on November 5th. After the peak in interest caused by last year's 400th anniversary, however, Guy Fawkes Night is now again heading for oblivion, doomed by the twin forces of political correctness and commerce. "A penny for the guy" was never the sort of retail margin that would interest big business. By contrast, Halloween's celebration of the spirit world was ideal for generating physical-world profits during the mid-autumn retail slump.
There is thus a grim satisfaction is seeing our former colonial masters, who once prided themselves on exporting British administration and the rule of law, being forced to celebrate a Celtic day of the dead, the keynotes of which are mischief-making and anarchy.
It is not before time, either. Despite the long entanglement between these islands, England has been remarkably impervious to Irish culture until now - even that branch of culture in which we are supposed to be so persuasive. For a famously assimilative language, English has so few words of Irish origin ("galore" is a rare example) that you have to conclude it was deliberate. And language apart, who among us has not occasionally been shocked at the depth of English ignorance about Ireland?
When their rugby team runs out at Croke Park next spring, many English fans at home will be learning of the stadium's existence the first time. Perhaps their credulity will be stretched when the commentator suggests that this is home to the All-Ireland "hurling" and "Gaelic football" finals, played annually by amateur sportsmen before crowds of 82,000. Or maybe the name of Kevin Moran (with the stress on the wrong syllable) will ring a bell.
More likely, none of that will register. They will instead marvel at how quickly Lansdowne Road has been redeveloped, and will regret that a sponsorship deal with some company called "Croke" has forced the renaming of the ground.
The English may not have heard of Croke Park yet. But, by God, they've heard of Halloween. For the next two weeks, they will experience imperialism in reverse, as the rampaging armies of globalisation march through England, terrifying the locals with face-masks and witches' uniforms, and then bombarding them into submission with pumpkins, nuts, and other agricultural produce that they couldn't normally shift in such large quantities.
The Irish and Scottish regiments will be safely in the rear, meanwhile, planting their flags everywhere from Tesco to Harrods food hall. It's not much. But it's a revenge of sorts.
My own closest encounter with the spirit world came during a tour of the Jameson Distillery a few years back. Very moving it was too. But there are plenty of people who believe in this sort of thing, and many will be heading to Cork next week for the sixth annual World Ghost Convention.
The event, on October 27th, also kicks off the week-long Irish Ghost Family Festival. Which, despite its rather confusing name, is not primarily for families of ghosts (although these are of course welcome). It's more a festival about ghosts, with events suitable for all ages.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that most of the spirits and banshees once common in Ireland disappeared around the time of the rural electrification scheme. The decline in poitín consumption appears to have been a factor too. But ghosts have also faced ever-increasing competition in the communications sector, from mobile phone-calling, text-messaging, remote e-mailing, and so on. If you're trying to contact us from the other side now, you'll be lucky to get through.
There will be no such difficulty at the ghost convention, however, where many of those attending will be equipped with the psychic equivalent of satellite dishes. Moreover, the event is taking place again in Cork City Gaol, which promises to provide more than just an atmospheric backdrop. According to the organisers, ghosts "have been seen by members of the audience and speakers" during previous conventions there.
Speakers this time include a range of mediums, channellers, and at least one "spiritual cleanser". They also include Dr Margaret Humphreys of the Folklore and Ethnology Department, University College Cork, who will discuss the poignant subject of "emigrant ghosts".
In the days before the telephone, Margaret says, telepathy was the only quick way to make contact across the Atlantic. Many of our emigrants believed that feelings of foreboding alerted them when something bad happened at home.
Perhaps in honour of the old Irish tradition whereby the dead were remembered by being allowed to vote in general elections - as often as they liked - the ghost convention will be formally opened by a politician: the Lord Mayor of Cork. Tickets are available from 021-4271659, and are priced from €17 (medium) to €20 (large).