Who would want to be a cat... or a dog, or a firefighter, on this (allegedly) historic day of the year?
The day when the skies and the earwaves are filled with burning money.
It is Grant Fox Day... I mean Guy Fox Day... or something like that.
A day of ignition as another year winds on through and talk and whispers of banning the explosive devices which form its foundation continue to spark... with no sign of extinguishment in sight.
I'm not sure what it is.
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Is it (fireworks) maybe up there on the taxation rate alongside tobacco?
Is the government making a small fortune out of the stuff being sold, and burned?
If so, how much of the tax and GST cut does the fire service get because, inevitably, they're usually the devoted bods who get to see displays of the stuff they would rather not.
In the wake of last year's annual recognition of a failed gunpowder plot in 1605 that had nothing to do with us, there was a lot of talk about a need to try and harness the purchase of what effectively are legal explosives... and believe me, I've heard plenty already, they are explosives.
But like trying to reign in the plague of drugs and those who spread the plagues nothing really happens, but it gives the many unknown faces of parliament plenty to stand up and raise as "an issue we must confront".
On that note... who are half those faces who emerge on Parliament TV, or whatever the live "reality" show is called?
They sit and watch and listen.
Which I have been known to only very occasionally do but I don't get paid a wheelbarrow full of money to do so.
Ooh, I can hear some of you out there whispering.
He's in one of his moods.
He either lost his discount card at his local "beverage" outlet or another old tooth has splintered under dashed tasty attack from a handful of cashews.
One must have nuts, the doctor once told me... but we'll leave it at that yeah?
So yes, I am perplexed and bewildered somewhat that another year has burned its wick and the "fireworks for all" question just keeps on simmering away.
Meanwhile, the pets have another night in (under whatever furniture they can find) and those who get startled early and can't be rounded up have to endure the madness.
I have likely been down this path before but am I right in assuming that the devices which burst into life today are extraordinarily loud... far, far louder than the rather modest old things we used to "light and stand well back" from?
And, as is also a tradition in itself these days, they continue to get let off for months afterwards.
Mind you, we're not alone in the world when it comes to selling explosively loud things for "home use".
In some parts of Aussie you can still buy them but they are heavily regulated in terms of where and when they can be set off.
And you can still buy them in Blighty, although some national shopping chains have now taken them off the shelves.
As I scribe this I see the weather forecast leading into Guido Fawkes night (yes, he was once known as that when he fought with the Spanish) is warm and pleasant... and dry.
Now that can be a worry.
Not in Blighty though for the autumn is well in place and the grounds are therefore less agreeable to sparks.
It's getting very dry out there to the point where burn-offs and barbies have the potential to create issues but hey, doesn't seem to be anything wrong with selling items of fiery ignition.
Which in the right hands and sensible guidance (in a perfect world) can work but it doesn't work that way.
I had many a memorable Guy Fawkes night back in the ancient times when phones were used simply for making calls and Coronation Street made sense, but then so did the firefighters and animal owners for that matter.
For them, memorable for the wrong reasons.
Age has accordingly nudged me along a path that maybe a huge big public display, all free and all spectacular and all within a specific time frame and boundary, would be the most appropriate form of what, at the end of the night, is effectively a celebration of a disgruntled bloke attempting to blow a big building and those inside it up.
But we're not there yet so, if you've got an arsenal in a box, please take care.
Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.