Gertsamtkunstwerk

More on fireworks

In response to a commenter who buries their head in the sand and seems more bothered by swearing than by physical maiming...

You might want to know how my good wholesome entertainment was ruined two years ago - take a look at this photo . My rheumatologist says that may well be the cause of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which I've suffered for nearly two years. And I would like to know how letting off loud, frightening bangs at two o'clock on a Monday morning can be seen as wholesome.

I would wager that, along with Halloween, a good half of people 'celebrating' do not have a clue what they are celebrating, and why.

I say 'ruin it' for the good kids who cower in fright at the repeated bangs. I'm sorry, when I was a child, it happened on two or three nights at most, early evening only, and not with bangs that ricocheted for miles.

GrocerJack refers to Baghdad. On Saturday evening I had made reference to Basra. I think we are both making undue light of the terrible situations out there; however, there are numerous people traumatised by explosions who don't need reminding every night for a month. You might have a different view, including of my language, if you had witnessed me trembling in tears on the sofa at midnight on Saturday.

And the accident in Kettering is a reminder that even a well organised event by an apparently experienced reputable company can go horribly wrong.

The DTI has statistics on firework injuries that show over a thousand each year 2001 - 2004 just in a four week October - November period. My injury was relatively minor, with scarring on my neck that is only visible with sleeveless tops in certain light, but the mental scars lie a lot deeper. I don't understand why I have to live with that for the rest of my life, nor why hundreds of people each year should have to live with more noticeable, deeper or wider-spread scars just so that some people can get their rocks off in an orgy of violence. I think it has been proven that the new legislation (although a step in the right direction) is virtually toothless. Reputable shops refuse to sell fireworks, or refuse to sell to children, or won't sell the illegal ones, but *everybody* knows which anti-social nutter in their neighbourhood is happy to sell illegally imported fireworks to children.

When I heard the gunshot-like bangs at 2 am this morning I momentarily considered contacting the Noise Squad or the Police, even though I knew instantly it would be quite the most asinine pointless phone call ever made "Erm, someone's letting fireworks off somewhere in South London. It's illegal innit?"

In Northern Ireland, it is illegal for anyone to let off fireworks, except sparklers and indoor fireworks, without a licence; an unlicenced person so doing can be fined up to £5000.

The worst week

Whenever Alex Ferguson has a bad week, so does Tony Blair. And vice-versa. I find it extraordinary how closely their careers run in parallel. Both are dogged constantly by media questions about their imminent retirements. Blair has had his Blunkett problem this week; for Fergie, it was Keane. Where Blair escaped a Commons defeat by just one vote, Fergie went down by a lone goal away to Lille.

Looking at the Premiership, it looks all over. United had that humiliating defeat at Middlesbrough. It will take a long time to recover psychologically from that. Sure Chelsea lost to Charlton in the League Cup, but it was on penalties, and they will, no doubt, write it off as one of those things. And I'm sure they will regard the midweek European loss as just a minor setback from which they can easily recover.

Frankly, they look invincible in the League: it's difficult to see who can stop their relentless unbeaten progresion to omnipotence. For me, the only matter of interest left in the Premiership is how long can Wigan keep it up; might they qualify for Europe. I decided after Manchester United's humiliating loss at Lille it's probably best not to follow these things. Sad though it makes me to say it.

But I do like that Darren Fletcher.....!

Seven bloody hours

It is driving me fucking mad.

What bloody right have those fucking arseholes got to bombard and bombard and bombard us with their moronic "Whoosh! Band! Weeh!"

Fucking moronic arseholes every single last one of them.

Without exception.

Tough bloody shit if you bought fireworks

Leave a comment.

Argue with me.

Rest assured I shall not approve that comment. And rest a-bloody-ssured, not only only will you be de-blogrolled, you'll also be banned as a commenter.

Fucking bloody terrorists. The whole bleeding lot of you ought to be ASBO'd forthwith.

How fucking dare you? I've had it non-bloody stop for two fucking weeks. I'm goiung to get it non-bloody stop for another fucking week.

Some arsehole at work took her bloody child out 'trick and treating' on Monday (hello? what's that about?) and said it was a bit worrying, because the sticks from the fireworks 'might have hit the children'. Oooh, lah-di-dah. My bleedingheart bleeds. Try getting hit by a fucking live firework. And don't tell me about cultural sensitivity. It's five to bloody twelve. Setting off bangs at this time is not about anything but BULLYING. And if you do it, take a long hard bloody look at yourself, examine your conscience - if you have one - and fuck off from this Blog because you ARE ABSOLUTELTY NOT WELCOME here.

A couple of years ago I read Frizzy Logic who had to comfort a terrified toddler night after night. Lyle D4D has a hound on sedatives.

Leave a comment. Try and justify it. Just remember, I shall laugh and scorn you. And ban you. And name and shame you.

Oh, and by the way - if you happen to work with me, and let off a party popper anywhere near me around Christmas, take this as fair warning that

a) I am never game for bullying, especially when disguised as a practical joke;

b) You will get slapped across the face AND your hair pulled. And your balls kicked; and

c) I shall file a formal complaint and demand dismissal; I shall simultaneously report you to the police. This is non-negotiable. I shall be sending an email around all Conference delegates to this effect.

Teenage diaries

When I was thirteen I kept a diary. Well, actually, I kept a diary from the age of eleven until well into my twenties, and then intermittently until - great irony here - I got a computer, when I was thirty.

I've just been flicking through my diary from November 1981, when I dutifully recorded that I was thirteen and three quarters. I kid you not - absolute proof that the whole Adrian Mole thing was stolen from me. (Note to self, must get round to reading the Weapons of Mass Destruction)

Amongst other comments in my diary were the following

I went to orchestra practice. The only thing I played in was the occasional Handel oratorio.

I think I meant Handel's Occasional Oratorio, rather than, what I suggested, we played many different ones in one reherasal and I just played in a few...

A few pages later I wrote

I watched Nationwide. Placido Domingo was on! He has made a record with John Denver.

Only one exclamation mark...? Bit of a part time fan, I think.

The Chopper

Blunkett admits 'I made mistake'

No question, he had to go. As Malcolm Rifkind said yesterday on the radio, it's not a hanging offence, it's not even an offence, but it showed misjudgement. And you know when Malcolm Rifkind and I agree, it's probably because it's self-evident.

From the day BLunkett resigned last year, I knew he would be back in Government following the election . I can assure you I do not have a direct line to Tony Blair, so if I knew, surely Blunkett knew, so I don't really understand why he considered it necessary to get involved in the murky business world. The main thing that brought down the Major governemnt, even more so than general incompetence was this underlying sense of sleaze.

There's been a helicopter hovering all morning somewhere over Westminster. Between the Abbey and Trafalgar Square. I saw it just a few minutes ago, then went back inside and saw obviously helicopter-shot footage of Bliunkett's ministerial jag en route to the Palace. I expect that the chopper's there for another reason and the BBC is just hitching a ride. Otherwise it seems a little bit of an unnecessary expense just to show a disgraced soon-to-be former Minister off to hand in the seals of office.

This creates a vacancy in the Cabinet. If I were obliged to place a bet I would wager a modest amount on Hazel Blears. If, however, Yvette Cooper gets it, you know that Gordon Brown's in control. Other names to bandy about are Douglas Alexander, or the longshot, Stephen Timms, current MoS for Pensions.

I reckon. WTF do I know?