I'd fervently celebrated the occasion since earliest childhood, with memories of sitting atop my fathers shoulders (RIP), sparklers in mittened hands, a backgarden bonfire with a potatoes wrapped in foil & baked in the dying embers, parkin cake, toffee apples, hot chocolate drinks (later replaced by mulled wine)... it is only in recent times I've realised the irony of celebrating failure of The Plot and death of the man who some say is the last person to enter the houses of parliament with honest intentions.
Would we be in the position we are now, ie the 1% situation with the parasites claim to having being 'born to reign over us' if they'd succeeded ?...
I can feel a song coming on.
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