IF there is one time of the year guaranteed to get right up my hooter it is the month or so which precedes Bonfire Night.

In theory, of course, November 5th is a date of historic importance in that, annually, people of these islands celebrate the fact that someone dedicated to blasting Royalty and Parliament into Kingdom Come was caught before he could light the blue touch paper.

Guy Fawkes, a Roman Catholic convert, was an English conspirator in the ill-fated Gunpowder Plot to blow up King James the First and both Houses Of Parliament on November 4, 1605.

Every subsequent November 5, except when the UK was involved in world wars, the event has been marked by giant bonfires, fireworks and the burning of an effigy of the treacherous 'guy.'

We never even considered setting off those precious fireworks in advance or pre-empting the celebration in any way. We just prayed it wouldn't rain!

Sadly, how times have changed. And, yet again, not for the better I fear.

These days teen yobs with the brain capacity of a gnat, buy fireworks - mostly bangers - several weeks before Bonfire Night and set them off, usually when most civilised folk are safely tucked up in bed, asleep.

These neanderthals don't know the history of Guy Fawkes, having bunked off school or slept through history lessons. They no doubt believe he's the latest Premier League, multi-million pound import from Italy's Serie A - or the lead 'singer' with some execrable pop group, earning zillions mumbling unintelligible 'lyrics' to repetitive, computerised backing tracks.

Bonfire Plot, its historic significance and the community spirit it generated in my youth mean nothing to these modern day yobs. In fact, the word 'civilised' was expunged from their restricted vocabulary before they could talk!

The people I feel most sorry for are parents with young children and the elderly, for whom fireworks represent a threat; just one of any number of threats senior citizens have to face these days.

Come back Guy Fawkes. All is forgiven. And we've got plenty of targets for your Gunpowder Plotters. They drink lager, wear baseball caps back to front, are heavily tattooed, wear earrings, converse in grunts peppered with profanities and bear an uncanny resemblance to a footballer called Paul Gascoigne.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.