I know this Guy...who knows a Guy...

I flew back to Blighty last week to build a bonfire. And it was worth it. Had the flight been twelve hours instead of six it would still have been worth it. Because in a world that seems to change by the minute, traditions warm my soul like…well…a crackling fire on a cold November night. For thirty years my family has built a bonfire and sent fireworks skyward on November 5th. Every year, my father hurls poor old Guy into the flames, his own eyebrows singeing as he recites an ancient rhyme:

Remember remember the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot...

For any Americans wondering what the pagan hell I’m going on about, here is a brief history of a momentous English event:

After Queen Elizabeth I died in 1603, English Catholics who had been persecuted under her rule hoped that her successor, James I, would be more tolerant of their religion. He was not. And so a small group of moustached malcontents decided to blow up the Houses of Parliament, hoping to kill the King and give the Members of Parliament a bigger raise than they could ever dream of giving themselves. The conspirators got their hands on 36 barrels of gunpowder (presumably from a man down the pub) and stored them in a cellar that…oh… just so happened…to lie beneath the House of Lords.
Perhaps some of the plotters began having second thoughts, because one of them sent an anonymous letter warning his friend, Lord Monteagle, to stay away from the Parliament on November 5th. (Dear Monty, you’ve been looking a bit peaky recently. Your beard, once the envy of all God-fearing Englishmen, has lost its lustre and that old cloak of yours was out of fashion when Henry VIII could still see his own toes. Frankly, people are beginning to talk. You work too hard, my dear fellow. Why not give yourself a well-deserved day off? A duvet day? Maybe fix that squeaky floorboard the missus has been moaning about. Do some gardening. Get some exercise, man. Enjoy some ‘you time’. Yours advisedly, a concerned friend. P.S. Seriously mate, don’t go to work on Nov 5th).
This letter found its way to the King (kings are nosey) and a chap called Guy Fawkes (now regarded as Britain's most notorious traitor) was discovered in the cellar when the cops stormed it in the early hours of November 5th. Unfortunately for him, he was tortured and executed most horribly. Put it this way, no one could accuse him of having no guts - not after the steaming pile was held up for all to see.
The Gunpowder Plot struck a very profound chord for the people of England. Even today, the reigning monarch enters Parliament only once a year, on "the State Opening of Parliament". Prior to the Opening, the Yeomen of the Guard search the cellars of the Palace of Westminster.
On the very night that the Gunpowder Plot was foiled, on November 5th, 1605, bonfires were lit to celebrate the safety of the King. Since then, November 5th has been known as Bonfire Night and is marked every year with fireworks and burning effigies of Guy Fawkes on a bonfire. Nevertheless, there has been a clamour from many sectors for Bonfire Night celebrations to be banned. In fact, this year, York, the birthplace of Guy Fawkes, did not hold a fireworks event. For years, huge crowds have gathered for official fireworks displays at sites including York Racecourse and the 13th-century Clifford's Tower. But this year the annual celebration was cancelled by the health and safety police, who blamed soaring safety costs.
Now, I imagine we are all aware that fire, and indeed gunpowder, can be dangerous. So can jumping from a very great height or putting one’s head in a lion’s mouth. Surely, as human beings, it is our recognition of and respect for potential danger that helps us survive. Yet, the way our society is going, all such judgments, and consequently decisions, will be taken out of our hands. What is the logical extension of this? That we will no longer recognize danger ourselves but will have to rely on a committee to advise us. We will also lose long-held and valued traditions (like Bonfire Night) and life will become ever more sterile.
‘Ah, but terrorists might get hold of fireworks and use them for evil,’ I hear you say. Well what was Guy Fawkes if not a would-be terrorist? Should we not celebrate his failure to cause death and destruction? If we were to end a tradition through fear of terrorism, then Guy Fawkes and his felonious fellows may as well have lit the match and waited for the boom.