Freaks unite: the rules for scary season fancy dress

Well, that's what some would have you believe I am anyway, Halloween or not.

So when darkness falls across the land and the midnight hour is close at hand, I'm off to where creatures crawl in search of blood to terrorise this neighbourhood.

Yes. I am going for a night out in Wolverhampton.

How scary is that?

There'll be some freaky looking characters, some blood-crazed nutters and an army of zombies roaming around Queen Square.

Fill in your own punchline.

I know it's not actually the day until Thursday but tonight, Matthew, I'm going to be – Gomez Addams.

You know. Duh-duh-duh-duh . . . click! click!

He's the dad in the famous sixties comedy; pin-stripe suit, shirt and tie, pencil moustache, smart hat, snappy wisecracks. I'm not exactly stretching myself here.

It should be an easy win in the fancy dress stakes but I fear I look like Bernie Winters and just about as scary.

I had the same problem last year when I went for the full dracula effect, but only ended up looking like Ray Reardon.

My other half is going as Morticia, milk-white skin, black rings around her eyes and looking like something from the Evil Dead.

For some inexplicable reason, she's bought make-up to achieve a look she manages effortlessly at 6am every other day of the year.

A few years ago, she turned up to a fancy dress do as Dappy from N'Dubz in garish adidas top, shades, silly hat and drawn-on (I think) facial hair.

I'm not sure it was meant to be scary, but I was horrified all the same. Especially as it clashed with my Tulisa outfit.(I hope that's a joke – Ed)

But at least she'd stuck to one of the key principles of dressing up – the dafter the better.

There's unwritten rules to these dos and number one on my personal hitlist is this: do not try to be 'sexy'.

Ladies: St Trinian's outfits make you look like a tart. French maids are for naff hen parties.

Oh and naughty nurses bring back memories of Benny Hill so unless you want to be chased round the garden by a bespectacled old perv, avoid.

Gentlemen: Comedy outfits are OK – for the first 10 minutes. If the party becomes a bit flat and you've got to spend the next five hours perched on the arm of a settee in just a loin cloth, you're going to regret the Captain Caaaaaveman approach.

Also, be careful of anything that includes a facemask. You're going to need beverages throughout the evening and without the Freddy Krueger head, you're just going to look like a bloke in an untidy red jumper.

The multi-knifed glove isn't going to help as the evening progresses either (think beer, women, getting the key in the front door, operating the microwave, putting Match of the Day on, etc).

But most of all, remember to let everybody know exactly who you are supposed to be.

A female friend once turned up in full 1960s outfit, mini-skirt, plastic boots, roll-neck jumper, blonde wig.

After enduring an evening of funny looks, someone finally sidled up and asked her who she'd come as.

"I'm Dusty Springfield, of course," she explained to much relief in the room.

"Thank God for that," came the reply, "We thought you were Myra Hindley."