I'm going to fire off a few of my favourite pyrotechnics before we're overcome by the wowsers peddling their misery. I love fireworks. Always have and now my kids love them. So lock up your animals and let the kids out because this year we're going to enjoy our crackers just like we did last year, and the year before and for as long as I can remember. There were days of expectation, enduring the queues at Wah Lee's as we purchased, counting the crackers over and over again. And then the terminal wait for darkness before we can light up and let off. You haven't had fun until you have seen the mighty $8 ‘Newscaster' launching with all the expectation of Apollo 11 from your own backyard and the deafening airborne explosion echoing off Mount Albert. We all hooted – even the olds living on either side of the launch pad. You haven't had fun until a skyrocket peters out and crash lands on the neighbour's tin roof. The relevance of Guy Fawkes is immaterial. The fireworks are damned good fun.

Short Fuse, Otumoetai.