My mother used always to
adore a visit from the Jehovah's Witnesses.
They used to tackle our road in Sarf London at regular intervals. My mother would regularly check through the net curtains if word was around that they had begun at one end of Criffel Avenue, S W 2. The excitement of the conflict to come! What an opportunity to bear witness for the Lord!
Ready and waiting on the hall table would be a book written by a JW who had got away. It was a fearsome looking red volume entitled "Thirty Years A Watchtower Slave". Just in case of emergency, there'd be the backup of The Holy Bible ( King James version) and a few tracts, written for those who had gone Astray listening to the wiles of Satan.
It would usually be two nice-looking women to begin with. But my mother was never fooled. "
Are you a Christian?" one NLW would enquire pleasantly. Then battle would commence, or as one says nowadays "Game On!" References from the Watchtower Slave Book would swiftly be backed up with underlined passages from the Bible, followed by finely-honed questions regarding the NLW's potential personal relationships with their Lord and Saviour. It would be maybe ten minutes, even a magnificent furious quarter hour before the poor NLW would be backing down the path to the front gate; rendered pale and shaking.
The next day, there would be a follow-up visit by a man and a woman, and finally, two men - albeit palpitating with nerves. Once - and this was a major triumph - a poor couple were lured into the drawing room, and given the full treatment - although it did strike me as a bit unfair that, at that time, my mother was even more eloquent after the Billy Graham London Crusade.
What chance did a Jehovah's Witness stand when confronted with a little Queen Mother lookalike chock-full of evangelical fervour?
No chance. Absolutely no chance at all.

"Baldrick, you wouldn't recognise a cunning plan if it painted itself purple, and danced naked on top of a harpsichord singing "Cunning plans are here again.""