Much is made of the pointlessness of celebrating the failure of an incompetent gunpowder plot, hatched half a millennium ago and 20,000km away, to blow up the Houses of Parliament. The anachronism argues an end to Guy Fawkes Day here.
The Catholic conspirator - who gave his name to the day that in New Zealand has been the delight of small boys and the terror of animals since the beginning of our European history - was tortured and executed. But only now, 500 years later, can we say Guy Fawkes as we know him, is dead.
Environment Minister David Benson-Pope has given us one last warning: Behave this year or Sir will ban the sale of fireworks completely.
First they took away our explosives because hand-held Mighty Cannons, homemade Double Happy muskets and thrown Jumping Jacks were simply tempting cruel fate. Then they reduced the season for selling fireworks after confiscating our skyrockets, those magnificent free-spirits which, despite being pointed skywards, would soar just as often into the neighbour's spouting. In that way has Guy Fawkes ended, not with a bang but with a whimper.
Today the backyard anniversary isn't worth a cracker after being snuffed in a pincer movement.
On the left flank is the unrealised (and unrealistic) expectation that folk might have been expected to behave responsibly when armed at night with incendiary devices that in these times of absolute choice have grown in majesty to exceed the wildest dreams of even the most imaginative young pyromaniac of generations past.
There were always larrikins but what has changed is that few brakes are evident on stupid behaviour. There is no confidence that good sense or parental disapproval might prevail. We are accustomed to expect the worst in the young (and not so young) when they have access to dangerous toys, and we tend to get it. To those who complain that all should not have to suffer because of the folly of the few ... well that's just the way it is: Kids aren't allowed to drive and everyone who wants to own a revolver, can't. On the right flank is not only the declining appetite for antisocial behaviour but for danger.
The New Zealand Fire Service, understandably, considers Guy Fawkes idiotic in the extreme: Last year emergency services turned out to nearly 1200 fireworks-related incidents. The SPCA also regularly pleads for an end to the torment of animals and damns the noisy, meaningless ritual.
But also, as society becomes more risk-averse, Guy Fawkes makes increasingly less sense. No matter how slight, every hazard in the workplace is required by law to be reported, analysed, discussed, minuted and either removed or clearly signposted. Thus has Guy Fawkes become an OSH person's living hell and by definition, to defend the setting off of explosives in our back yards has become the height of contemptible irresponsibility.
EDITORIAL: Time to toss Guy Fawkes on bonfire
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