Home is a sacred place. It's where we recover from society. We deserve protection.
From crocodile-filled moats to fingerprint scanners, unannounced guests may soon need more than a friendly knock to get inside. Picture: iStock
I recently discovered that there are places in the world where visitors are strictly forbidden.
Entire islands. Secret vaults. Military zones. Underground bunkers.
Apparently, there’s even a place in Norway where seeds are stored for the apocalypse and random people can’t just wander in asking for coffee.
And it got me thinking: why can’t I apply this system to my house?
Because, frankly, some people arrive at my front door like medieval invaders. No warning. No invitation. No concern for the fact that I may currently be wearing pyjamas from 2007 and am emotionally unavailable.
I want restrictions. I want my property classified as a highly protected international zone.
I want to shout to the world: “Access denied. Clearance level insufficient.”
Naturally, I’ve already begun considering security measures.
Firstly, signage. Not your weak little “Beware of Dog” nonsense.
No. I’m thinking more in the region of “Biohazard Area”. “Quarantine In Progress.” “Government Experiment Underway.”
Too hectic? How about “Relatives Will Be Prosecuted.”
I am also considering physical deterrents. Moats are underrated. People laugh until they have to cross a crocodile-infested trench to borrow sugar.
If this is impossible, I may install one of those airport-style security systems where visitors must remove shoes and explain why they arrived unannounced.
A fingerprint scanner to gain access to my house would help, too.
Then there’s repeat offenders. Every neighbourhood has them. The Pop-In Specialist. That person who says “I was just in the area…”
No, you weren’t. Nobody is ever “just in the area” when they arrive exactly at supper time.
These people require advanced measures. I’m thinking motion-activated sprinklers. Or perhaps hidden speakers that suddenly play Gregorian chanting when someone approaches the gate.
Most visitors would flee immediately, believing they’ve interrupted an exorcism.
Home is a sacred place. It’s where we recover from society. We deserve protection.
Meanwhile, I’m expected to allow Cheryl from three streets over to appear without warning and stay for two and a half hours discussing air fryers. No.
My home should have international visitor protocols. Possibly even armed guards. At the very least, a drawbridge.
And if anyone asks why? I’ll stare into the distance and whisper: “National security.”
