Remember, remember the 5th of November. In the UK, the 5th of November is bonfire night, an annual celebration of a group of anarchists, historically but not actually led by Guy Fawkes, who plotted to blow up the King in Parliament, but failed. Like really, we celebrate this every year! This actually happens! Only in Britain would we celebrate the attempted murder of our monarchy. I won’t mince my words here, if somebody successfully blew up the Palace of Westminster today, I’m pretty certain us peasants would rejoice. The Daily Mail would celebrate with clickbait titles about draining swamps, and the Express would run a instant poll on who should be the face of the new £20 note.
Quick fact, every time the Queen does visit Parliament, a group of soldiers still check the cellars of Westminster for gunpowder, just in case some nostalgic terrorists fancy a pop at our Elizabeth II. So far all they found was the ghost of Tony Benn.
As with all bonfire night celebrations, pyromaniacs come out in force. Often, people attend a professionally produced bonfires (stacked wooden pallets, with a wooden effigy of Guy Fawkes in the middle of the fire), where the cold November evening eventually closes with a colourful fireworks display. Much fun can be had.
But…where the real fun lies are those who choose to do their own amateur bonfire night festivities. Dad’s around the country are tasked with finding wood to burn for the bonfire. As always, they find a few logs, maybe a pallet, and then decide this is the ideal opportunity to burn an old mattress and Nan’s broken sofa, to “BULK out the bonfire a bit”. After attempting to light their bonfires with matches, Dad’s eventually choose to light their bonfires with petrol…the fire quickly turns to smoke and fills all the guests lungs with thick black smoke, almost killing 80 year old Nana. Mum glares in Dad’s direction, with a stern face they says “I told you so”.
What can really set an amateur bonfire apart from a professional one, is not the wood or the size of the bonfire, but the effigy in the middle. Though professional displays traditionally go for Guy Fawkes or a scarecrow like, wooden stick creature. Amateurs are MUCH more adventurous! Some choose to burn a printout of their bosses face, or a rival football team player…or as the case three years ago…a tasteless but quite hilarious cardboard cut-out of Grenfell Tower (the concrete tower that set on fire in London, killing 72 people). British humour is unrivalled. When the clip of Bonfire Grenfell went viral, British police didn’t see the humour and charged bonfire’s owner with a “criminal offence”, which was eventually cleared by the courts. Freedom of expression is rather vigorously policed in Britain.
Mum’s are tasked with keeping the bonfire night guests happy, which translates to sandwiches, naughty chocolatey treats and sparklers. Every year, when those sparklers come out, theres one person who can’t get theirs to light, another who burns their hand by holding it too long, someone who finds the sparklers the most magical thing they’ve ever seen and takes 20 photos for the “gram”, and someone, usually me who is wholly underwhelmed by the whole thing and questions why we do this shit every year!
Amateur bonfire nights draw to a close in the same way the professional ones do…fireworks. However, unlike professional firework displays, which use spectacular rockets, timers, safety goggles and last a good 10 minutes. Amateur firework displays are a short but hilarious yearly tradition. Dad’s around the country open the £20 box of fireworks they bought from LIDL, dispense of the instructions, set up the firework on a stick 10 yards away, grab a match, light the firework and…run for their fucking lives! After a short wait where nothing seems to happen, Dad looks perplexed, the firework falls over in our direction! OMG TAKE COVER! Mum goes behind a tree, Dad drops to the ground, I find the nearest child to use as a human shield. Then the FIREWORK GOES OFF INTO THE CROWD. It goes straight into a window, shattering the double-glazed frame. The evening is ruined.
But…We’ll be back next year! Bonfire night everybody. Enjoy with caution.
TLDR — Britain celebrates the attempted murder of our King every year. Us peasants love burning things and breaking all fire codes.
