A plot thwarted, our Sovereign Parliament is safe, poor old Guy, hung, drawn and quartered, a celebration, bonfires, oohs and aahs as the rockets, Roman candles and sapphire crown jewels zoom high into the night sky.
But what happens to the launch tubes that are left back on earth and to the rocket sticks and tubes that fall back to earth when the colours and flashes are dead, just like Guy?
Let’s drive up to Percy Rigg to set them off. Don’t have to walk at all. Only £70 for 98 pops, bargain, we’ll can buy a couple, and after a few beers who will care. What a laugh. Someone else can tidy the mess.