Can’t you hear me knockin’?

The lights are low, the feet are up, the kettle has cried and somebody has kindly tended to its pleading call. You know what, why not?

Tea and tranquility.

Home, sweet home.

Then, like a pint of ice water down the back of a sleeping man’s collar, three loud, obnoxious knocks violently disturb the peace.

Who could it be? Is it (a) members of a small, anorak-wearing religious order, or (b) a few travelling GAA ‘stalwarts’?

Why the binary choice, Emmet? Couldn’t it be one a of a myriad of people or organisations? Maybe, however, relying on my own experience, no, it’s one of the two aforementioned.

In today’s world, only these two otherwise unassociated groups seem to be free of any inhibitions against the much-denounced practice of ‘cold-calling’. In fact, both are extremely fond of it.

If you are unfamiliar with the term ‘cold-calling’, it might be because, in recent times, through a series of highly successful campaigns, cold-calling has almost been eradicated… Almost.

Cold-calling is the technique whereby a person pays an uninvited visit to your house in order to acquire something or other from you which they deem of value.

A typical example might be the dodgy salesman who tries to sell you a knock-off TV.

The teary-eyed con-artist who pleads with you to donate to his fraudulent charity. Or, like Joe Pesci in Home Alone, the crafty burglar who concocts some pretence so he can get close enough to your house in order to scope it out for a ‘job’.

For the door-rattling religious sect, the item of value they wish to acquire is your immortal soul. Like Ronan O’Gara of old, they’re looking to score a conversion.

For the GAA stalwart, on the other hand, they’re after cold hard cash.

Within this article I deliberately use the word ‘stalwart’ as distinct from your run-of-the-mill ‘clubman’. The distinction between these two types of GAA personnel is analogous to that between the casual Catholic and the eucharistic minister. Just as, every Sunday, the eucharistic minister is willing to reach into the mouths of strangers in search of his own salvation, the stalwart is willing to kick in your door to help pay for a new stand.

To determine if one these cold-callers is more worthy of opening the door to than the other, we must ask; what is to be lost and gained by entering into the respective transactions they propose?

Beginning with the Holy Folk, we must acknowledge that they are asking quite a lot; the essence of our eternal being, to be precise.

However, in return, if they’re to be believed, striking a bargain with them might just guarantee you a spot at the high tables of Heaven, where, of course, the food is good and the wine is wonderful.

GAA fellas and felletes, on the other hand, aren’t asking quite as much; usually about twenty pound, give or take a fiver.

However, not their lottos, raffles, galas, nor golf classics (wherever they came from) are as seductive – for me anyway – as an eternity revelling in the cloudy vineyard.

So, with consideration to the risk involved in the Godly gamble, I still have to give this one to the matching-satchels-and-windbreakers brigade.

But it is not over yet.

Another question which must be asked is this: Which of these doorsteppers are more inclined to perform this most unreasonable of actions during the more unreasonable of hours?

This, unfortunately, is a no-brainer, and, once again, goes against the Gaels.

Now, in their defence, if the GAA can be considered their messiah, these boys do not have the luxury of serving the Lord on a 24/7 basis.

By day, they work, and by night, they serve.

It’s the only way, and I understand.

However, in spite of these mitigating conditions, I must stare the facts in the face, and, when I do, I cannot help but shutter as the owlish eyes of a night-crawling Aughabrack man peer back at me through my own letterbox.

And, finally, from here I come to the easiest question of this case: Who is easier to get rid of?

Hands down, the answer is the smiley samaritans.

With them, your best bet it is to proclaim your devotion to another.

They are looking for the lost. Tell them you’ve already been found and watch them bless you and bail.

However, tell a GAA person that your heart belongs to another club and they’ll tell you who the chairman is.

It is true to say that in all my time and through all my best efforts, I’m yet to find anyone who has discovered an assemblage of words fit to banish, appease or dissuade the determined GAA stalwart when he/she is stood on your doorstep.