What's worse than the Mormons?

Recently I've had visits from do-gooders. You know the sort of people I mean. They turn up just like the Mormons, in their pretty pairs, and they chatter at you the moment you open the door. It all seems pretty innocuous, especially having established that they're not Mormons from the outset, but that just makes it worse.

They start their chatter by telling you their names, these appallingly upbeat children, Becky and oh-dear-God-I-forget, and then they launch into telling you that they're from (in this case) a charity called Every Child, and that you might have heard if them. Your insistence that you don't know them from Adam having no effect, they then proceed to tell you that they've just been chatting to your neighbours, and reel off a couple of names of people you've never heard. All the while, wittering on about how they're walking leaflets for the charity, and isn't that more eco-friendly than all those paper ones?

And THEN they want to come into your house, just a small flat area where they can show you their slides and, presumably, beg you to donate a regular not-very-much-every-month to make sure that the children are safe! At which point I told them I was very sorry, but I was also very not-interested in their appeals. Confused, hurt, bewildered - these looks raced across those pretty young faces, before Becky rallied, reminded me of her name, and dropped that last bomb on me, "And you are...?"

At which point my wits abandoned me, leaving me stuttering, "Living here, goodbye!" as I firmly closed the door. Seconds later the correct response sprang into my brain - "Not interested in being used as bait for my poor, unfortunate neighbours!" should have dripped from my smirking lips, as I closed the door, softly. Bugger!

Now, this is the second lot of similar people to have bothered me since the beginning of the year, although I can't for the life of me remember what the last lot wanted, so let's hope that I'll actually have a better response to hand when I'm next pestered. Sadly I wasn't on the ball at all that time, and gave my name.

Clearly as a woman they expect me to disintegrate into a pathetic donation-giving heap at the mention of "the children" (as in, "Wont somebody think of the children?"), but these tactics are obviously being taught as a standard trust-gaining method for doorstep beggars. I mean, you can imagine the scenario:

"But what if they say they're not interested?"
"Well, at that point, you want to say, 'If you change your mind, I'll be in the area for a bit. My name's Becky, and you are...?' That way you'll be able to use their name when you call at the next house. It'll make people trust you, because you've clearly been chatting with their neighbours!"

While I do support charities, and I get that they have to use stronger tactics in these credit-crunchy times, the fact is that there appear to be more charities than people to donate, and one ends up having to be a whole lot picky about it. And anyway, I hate these charities which want a regular donation every month. "It's only £15 a month - you'll barely notice it!" Except that it requires more of me. It requires that I take an interest in your charity, and having been persuaded to give once, maybe I can be persuaded to give more. And actually, £15 per month works out at £180 every year.

Nah, you can keep your regular giving - I'll pop some change in the collection boxes (except those people from the Rotary who come round with their ghastly speaker systems, blaring "seasonal" music every year - but I've already said that before) when I see one, I'll gladly spend at your charity fete, especially since someone's baked a great cake I can buy from you.