Bangers, indoor fireworks, and sparklers - those were the days
Thursday, November 2, 2023 at 9:43 The fun police are coming after fireworks.
Nothing new in that, of course. Fireworks have been on their hit list for decades but, according to a report in New Zealand, even the general public is moving in favour of prohibition:
53% of those surveyed want to see fireworks banned for recreational use, with a further 20% wanting to see them banned altogether.
Meanwhile, in the UK, the Independent reports that, 'There are strict rules about where and when you can let off fireworks - but some think that isn’t enough'.
How did it come to this?
When I was a small boy in the Sixties we lived in Maidenhead, Berkshire, and I remember the excitement of waiting for my father to arrive home from work so we could watch him unpack a box of fireworks in our back garden, before lighting each one in turn.
(And, yes, Bob Mortimer is right, they were called Standard Fireworks!)
Rockets attached to a long wooden stick were placed in empty milk bottles. After the fuse was lit they would shoot up into the sky, exploding several feet above the house.
A rogue rocket might develop a mind of its own, but no-one I knew was ever hit by one.
Roman candles were my favourite, while Catherine wheels were arguably the most unreliable, partly because they had to be nailed to a fence or a post so they could spin round.
If it was too loose it might come off as it was spinning. But if it was nailed too tight it wouldn't spin at all, so the effect was ruined.
As small children we were never allowed to light fireworks ourselves, and if there's one piece of advice I remember it's this: stand well back and never return to a lit firework that hasn't gone off.
The problem was, if a firework failed to go off, everyone would stand there unsure what to do, and precious minutes would be lost until it was agreed it was safe to continue.
Arguably the best moment was being given some sparklers which we would wave around, creating patterns in the dark.
What my parents didn't know is that, at the age of just seven or eight, my friends and I would buy small boxes of bangers from the corner shop and take them to school. Hard to believe now, but that's just the way it was.
Aside from sparklers, bangers were the cheapest firework. They looked innocent enough, a small paper tube not unlike a sherbet fountain.
Inside however it was packed with gunpowder and when you lit the fuse with a match (yes, we were allowed to buy those as well) you had no more than a second or two before it exploded with a loud bang.
I don't remember anyone getting into trouble but what I do remember – very clearly – is a story that appeared in the paper.
It featured a boy (a similar age to us) who lost his, er, wedding tackle (as it was then called) when a banger went off in his trouser pocket.
Apparently, it had over-heated and exploded with no need for a match.
I remember reading this and thinking "That could have been me" because we used to sit in class with bangers in our trouser pockets too.
I stopped buying them after that and eventually the law changed to prevent the sale of fireworks to anyone under 18.
Reading this – 'A brief history of bangers: fireworks of legend' – does make me feel nostalgic though:
Bangers … The name of these once-delightful nuisance fireworks still casts a flash of sentimental mischief across the eyes of people of a certain age.
In my teenage years the magic of fireworks began to wear off to the point where I remember standing in our garden overlooking the River Tay in Fife, shivering, while my father laboriously planted each firework in a pot of soil or sand before lighting them, one after the after, with a suitable interval between each one in order to make sure the previous one had gone out.
And that's the problem with organised firework displays as well – far too much hanging around before the action starts!
When my children were young we would watch the village firework display at the local sports ground, but the largest display I have attended in person was the night before the wedding of Charles and Diana in 1981.
It took place in Hyde Park, a short walk from my apartment (I was sharing a flat near Marble Arch), and was accompanied by music performed by, I think, a live orchestra.
It was a huge event attended by tens of thousands of people, and while I saw the fireworks I was so far away I couldn't hear any of the music, which was unfortunate because the fireworks were supposed to complement the score, and vice versa, so some of the pauses didn't make much sense.
Anyway, I must confess that fireworks don't thrill me in the way they once did, but further restrictions or prohibition? Why would you do that?
Like smoking, the recreational use of fireworks is a personal choice, surely? As long as you don't harm anyone else, what has it got to do with government?
The most important factors here are 'courtesy' and 'common sense'. If people over-step the mark we already have laws designed to regulate against anti-social behaviour. Why do we need more legislation?
Anyway, if, like me, you feel nostalgic for 'the old days', do read this – Bonfire Night in the 1950s and 1960s.
Oh, and the story Bob Mortimer told on Would I Lie To You? referred to an incident in which he inadvertently set off fireworks in his own home as a child.
I've never done that, but as a student I did burn a hole in a formica table when an indoor firework turned into a mini Mount Etna, with burning lava (or whatever it was) pouring on to the plastic surface.
(I know, indoor fireworks. Those were the days.)
