It’s November the 5th, and all I can hear – and it was worse yesterday, being a Saturday – are blooming fireworks exploding everywhere. The weather forecast says that tomorrow’s expected fog will be thicker because of the amount of bonfires around the country today.

For international visitors, Bonfire night celebrates the failure of Guy Fawkes to blow up the houses of Parliament in … wait for it … 1605. A few years ago, then. Native Americans were running around the United States, unmolested, certainly not drunk and not playing in casinos. Mr Fawkes was caught, tortured and executed (see the below blog on Saddam and capital punishment!). That night on November 5th, 1605, bonfires were lit all over England to celebrate the safety of the King. We’re still lighting them. Let’s face it … the King is dead. He’s been dead quite a while, too, has James the first.

We sell these fireworks to … anyone, really. Kids end up with them. They mess about with them and injure themselves and others. Innocently organised home firework parties have tragic endings too … not many, but enough. One is more than enough. When I was at school, some wag threw a firework in my class and it buzzed around under my seat. It’d have caused damage if I hadn’t lost control of my bowels and covered it with a fire resistent layer of excrement.

I’m going to state the obvious now: “Let’s stop selling fireworks” and “Let’s stop ‘celebrating’ a failed terrorist incident from 401 years ago.” If we celebrated failed terrorist incidents, we’d have firework night many times a year.

Fireworks are stupid. (Unless you’re watching the 4th July display over Manhattan like I did in 2005, which was amazing! (but safe))